Switch by Tish Cohen

and releasing it all relaxed. “Just settle down. Everything is fine, you’re fine, I’m fine, right?”
    “Are you freaking insane? Nothing is fine, you imbecile!”
    “I’m trying to help you, Joules. Just take a few deep breaths and get a hold of yourself. Passing out is not going to help!”
    She gulps in air as if drowning, makes sharp yelps with each swallow. “What do we do now? Tell me that. What? What?”
    “We have no choice. We live each other’s lives until we can switch back.”
    “If
we can switch back. This is all based on one big fatty of an ‘if.’”
    “Of course we’ll switch back. I’m completely sure, almost nearly certain that we can probably switch back. Totally.”
    She makes a face like death, but at least her cheeks have color again. “Great. That’s reassuring.”
    “Well, what do you want from me? You think I like this?”
    “You like my boobs.”
    “I said they were in the way—I never said I like them. Anyway, none of that matters. We have to get each other’s lives straight so no one figures out what’s happened.”
    “How do we do that?”
    “I don’t know—we just play the roles. At school. At home. My mom is going to expect a few things from you. Help with the dishes and the kids. Don’t mix lights and darks when you do the laundry. Stuff like that. You have to be prepared or she’ll know something’s up.”
    Joules groans. “I do
not
do laundry.”
    “Too bad. Andrea Birch does.”
    “Fine, then you have to, um …” She looks away as she tries to come up with one negative thing about her life. “Oh God, you have to keep Will from finding out about me and Shane. Seriously.”
    “How’s he going to find out? He thinks it was me.”
    “I don’t know. I’m not sure he really believes it. Last night he was acting all weird.”
    I roll my eyes. “Last night when you were yelling at him? Of course he was weird, he was being howled at.”
    “No, I mean in general. I got the feeling he was maybe going to break up with me. He was all distant and stuff.”
    Could that be why he called me? To question me about Shane and Joules and who, exactly, was in the bushes? “He’s crazy about you, Joules. I saw that kiss.”
    “Yeah, but later he seemed different. I don’t know,maybe Shane said something. Just promise you’ll keep him from dumping me.”
    “I’ll try.”
    “Promise!”
    “I can’t promise …”
    “Promisepromisepromisepromisepromise!”
    Okay, this girl is hugely annoying. “Fine. I promise to try.”
    Just then my mother’s station wagon pulls up and mom herself climbs out, sets her hands on her hips. “Andrea Jane Birch. Get yourself down here pronto.”
    Joules gets up. As she starts down the slope, she says, “And around my dad, just act normal. Kind of lazy, not too interested in school but keep my grades up and you work out every night at six on the elliptical in the back room. And don’t forget the flossing. I’m manic about my teeth.” She shoots me an aggrieved look and stomps down to the car. I watch her climb in all sulky and rude and wonder how Mom will punish her for it. Joules has no idea who she’s up against. Maybe she should be in the military coat, if only for protection.
    Which is when it hits me for real. Joules is in my life. I’m in hers.
    And Will Sherwood is my boyfriend.

chapter 8
    J oules and Nigel living in a house like mine makes no sense. Her house is in a more expensive area, Skyline, with views across Orange County—but in terms of the actual house, it’s your average tract home. If it was the only one in the neighborhood, it would seem decent enough, but with dozens—maybe hundreds—that look nearly identical (including my own), it’s not remotely special enough for a guy like Nigel Adams to live in. Either rock gods don’t pull in as much money as people think or they don’t bother to put their money into their homes.
    The other thing that is strange, I realize, is that a burglar alarm didn’t