Megan Hart - Switch

minor advantages to life in the town where I'd grown up.

Halfway through the movie, my phone vibrated against my

thigh. I flipped it open with a sigh when I saw who it was

from…ignoring the fact that not only did I recognize the

number on sight, but that I had, in a fit of insanity, assigned

it a photo. I shielded the glare of the backlight with one

hand as I read it.

Where you @?

I didn't reply, just flipped the phone closed and slid it back

into my jeans pocket. The movie went on and on. And on.

And on some more. I never knew an hour and a half could

last so long, but since Arty stared slack-jawed in wonder

at the cavorting cartoon figures I figured he, at least, was

enjoying it.

I blame the cartoons. If the movie had held my interest I

would never have puled out my phone again. I'd never

have answered Austin's text. I know better now, but that's

what I told myself at the time.

I'm watching a movie.

Cool. What movie? The answer came within seconds.

I tried not to be excited that he'd been waiting for my

answer.

Something with elves and fairies. My eyes are bleeding.

You're with Arty?

I loved that Austin didn't abbreviate his texts. Yes. What

are you doing?

Thinking about you.

Something briliantly colored and loud happened onscreen,

but I couldn't blame the sudden thunder of my pulse on

that. I glanced at Arty, his mouth ful of popcorn, his entire

attention taken up by what was going on. I looked again at

the phone. My fingers stroked the keys, but I didn't type

anything. I didn't want this to keep going.

Or maybe I did.

Or maybe I did.

What are you thinking about me?

"Paige," Arty whispered. "I have to go to the bathroom!"

"Now? Can't you wait five minutes? The movie's almost

over." I looked at the jumbo-size drink in his cup holder. It

had been the smalest size and stil contained enough soda

to float a boat. "Never mind. C'mon."

Arty squirmed. "No, no, I want to wait."

"Dude, you'l pee yourself."

The woman in front of us gave an annoyed glance over her

shoulder. Since her own three kids had been bouncing out

of their seats and talking over the entire movie, I wasn't

realy sure where she got off with the bitchface, but I

ignored her to focus on my brother.

"No, I want to wait," he insisted, eyes glued to the screen.

With a sigh, I watched him squirm. He was totaly going to

wet himself, but I remembered what it was like to miss the

best parts of a movie because of a teeny bladder. Not that

this movie seemed to have any best parts.

this movie seemed to have any best parts.

My phone vibrated again, earning me another look from

Mrs. Grumpy in front of me when I opened it to see

another text from Austin.

I'm thinking about how good your hair always smels.

Once I'd stuck a bobby pin in an electrical socket. What

can I say? I was young and dumb and it had seemed like a

good idea at the time. Much like this text-message

flirtation. Austin's message shot the same frigid-inferno

tingle up and down my body, and I saved myself from

gasping aloud only by biting my tongue.

I was saved from myself by the movie ending. Thanking

God it wasn't one to have outtakes and jokes scattered

throughout the final credits, I hustled Arty to the bathroom

where he peed forever as he chattered about the movie.

The weight of my phone in my pocket distracted me so

much I forgot to make him wash his hands, a fact I

remembered too late when he grabbed mine on the way to

the parking lot.

"Paige, you're the best sister, ever. I love you!"

"Love you too, squirt." I ruffled his hair and helped him

into his seat belt.

My phone remained silent, and so did I. Arty talked

enough for both of us al the way home. By the time I

puled up in front of my mom's house, he'd relayed the

entire movie to me, including dialogue, and I marveled at

how he could repeat word for word eight minutes' worth

of dialogue but was unable to remember his telephone

number.

"Inside and get ready for bed," I told him on the front

porch. "No fussing."

"Okay." He was off the moment he got in the door, up the

stairs before my mom even made it out of the kitchen.

"He's sufficiently caffeinated now," I told her. "To go along with the sugar."

"Great." My mom's laugh sounded forced.

From my pocket, my phone buzzed.

Her eyebrows lifted when I didn't reach to answer it. "So

I'm not the only one you ignore?"

I'm not the only one you ignore?"

I remembered then I was supposed to be angry with her

about something. "It's Austin."

She didn't even try to hide the pleasure on her face. She

puled a pan of brownies from the oven and settled them

on top of the stove, then slapped the hot pads on the

counter. "I'm not surprised. You were crazy about that

boy for so long—"

" Crazy being the operative word."

She turned to face me. "I said I'm sorry, al right?"

I eyed the brownies, then her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why would anything be wrong?" She

rummaged in the fridge to pul out a bowl of what looked

like fudge icing.

"Because you bake when you're upset."

She held out the bowl to me. "Taste this. Is it too sweet?"

"I don't want to taste that, Mom."

"Trying to watch your figure?" She ran a finger around the edge and tasted, then grimaced. "Is this too sweet? I think

it's too sweet."

"What's wrong?" I asked more quietly this time, and this

time, she put down the bowl to answer me.

"Leo moved out."

My mom had been with countless men during my lifetime.

Some had been boyfriends. Some had been dates. Only a

few had been live-ins, and out of al of them, Leo had

lasted the longest. I didn't expect to be so surprised he'd

gone.

"Why?"

"I asked him to." My mom waved a hand as she dug in the

drawer for a rubber spreader.

Above us, the floor creaked as Arty ran around. I looked

upward and said, "I'l go."

"Thanks, hon."

Upstairs, I wrangled my brother into the bathroom to

Upstairs, I wrangled my brother into the bathroom to

brush his teeth, then into bed. I tucked him in tight and

gave him half a dozen hugs and just as many kisses. I held

him close. Now he smeled like popcorn and little-boy

sweat, not candy.

"Go to sleep, monster."

He protested, yawning, that he wasn't tired, but his eyes

were already closing as I ducked out the door. I stood in

the hal for a few minutes, my own eyes closed. I'd never

lived in this house, but it smeled the same as al the places

I'd ever lived with my mom. Dust and chocolate brownies

and, fainter, below it al, the subtle odor of never-quite-

good-enough.

Downstairs, my phone vibrated again in my pocket. I

clapped a hand over it to stifle the buzz, which sounded

like a fly in a bottle. My mom had iced the brownies and

wrapped up half the pan in aluminum foil for me to take

along. She didn't mention the phone cal, and I didn't try to

refuse the food.

She hugged me on the way out the front door, her grip

fiercer than usual. "Drive carefuly, sweet girl."

My retort to that had been, "No, Mom, I plan on driving

recklessly," but tonight I kept those words inside. I hugged

her back as hard as she hugged me. She didn't have to be

crying for me to know she was upset about Leo. The

brownies had told me that.

"I'l cal you tomorrow, okay?" I said into her hair, which