Switch (19 page)

W
e wrap the crystal rock in one of Sam’s leg warmers before climbing out the window. Gran is right; we can’t afford to smash this thing. It’s not like a roadside fortune teller in Africa would be so easy to find.

It isn’t raining tonight, but it’s good and dark, and we didn’t hear a train as we approached so chances are there’ll be one coming along fairly soon. We plop ourselves down in the gravel beneath the bridge, unwrap the crusty little boulder and make a groove for it in the dirt so it doesn’t roll away.

“This might not work,” says Joules. “We should be prepared for that.”

“I know. But whatever happens, it won’t be like before. We’re too … I don’t know, interconnected now.”

She tucks her hair behind her ears. Then picks at the stones. “I want you to have him. Whichever way this goes.”

“Will?”

“Will.”

“You’re sure?”

She nods.

I think about this for a moment, hardly daring to breathe. “I kissed him the other day. At school.”

“I didn’t need to know it, but thanks for sharing.”

“Sorry.”

“Whatever. It’s fine.”

“Do you mind if I tell him we’re about to switch back?”

She looks at me, incredulous. “He knows about all this? He believed you?”

“Sort of. As much as anyone else can.”

“Wow.” She throws a pebble toward the street. “You better tell him now, then. Before the train comes.”

I pull her phone from my pocket and text Will: About to wish ourselves back again. How would you like to date a girl with 38 siblings?

Just as I slide the phone back into my pocket, the ground begins to rumble.

“Should we hold hands?” Joules asks, scooting closer to the crystal. “Make sure we’re touching?”

The original wish was made while I was here and she was at Will’s—a good two miles away—but I don’t point that out. I take hold of her hands and wait. We stare at each other and blink as the train gets closer and flecks of debris start to rain down on us. Joules gets grit on her lip and laughs, spits it away. We squeeze each other’s hands tighter and pull each other close as the train bursts onto the bridge and thunders overhead. Then we both say it.

“I wish I was myself again.”

I
lift my face off the pillow. The sun is out but it’s missing the window entirely. Which means I’m facing west. Which means I’m in my old room. But I’m not in the twin bed where Michaela’s cot used to be. I’m in my own bed. Which means …

I sit up and pull off the covers.

Yes!

Yes!

I am me again! Andrea Birch, for real!

I leap out of bed and look in the mirror, laughing like a crazy person when I see my actual self looking back. And there, in the other bed, is Joules. Sound asleep. I go to wake her but stop when I see the letter from Stanford on my bulletin board. My interview with Mortimer Wolf is today—my last-ditch, if-you-cancel-you-get-no-second-chance interview. If I don’t show, I can never apply to Stanford again.

It’s okay. Like I said, Cal State Fullerton is just down the street.

A few seconds later, there’s a tap at the window.

Will.

I open it up and kneel on the floor so we can be face to
face. Our forearms touch, both resting on the sill. Grinning, I say, “It worked, Will! I’m me again.”

“I can see that.”

“It feels so good. My arms, my legs.”
My less cumbersome chest,
I don’t say.

“I’m sure.”

I tap my pinkie against his. “But weird for you, right? As in, who were you with all this time?”

Will smiles, shakes his head and presses his forehead against mine. “Nope. I know exactly who I was with all this time. I was with Andie Birch.”

Andie Birch. The Lucky One.

Thanks go out …

To the two best agents a writer could ask for: the elegant Kassie Evashevski at United Talent Agency and the brilliant Daniel Lazar at Writers House. Kassie, I’m sorry I spilled on your chair. Dan, apologies for all the whining. And fretting. And way-too-long e-mails in the middle of the night, mostly full of whining and fretting.

To my agents’ assistants, Dana Borowitz (United Talent Agency) and Stephen Barr (Writers House)—both of whom can answer a question before you ask it. To Maja Nikolic at Writers House for introducing
Switch
to other parts of the globe. To my sensational editors: Lynne Missen at HarperCollins Canada and Greg Ferguson at Egmont USA. To managing editor Noelle Zitzer and copy editor Catherine Marjoribanks—you made
Switch
a better book. To Regina Griffin and Elizabeth Law at Egmont USA, for being on my side.

To Melissa Zilberberg at HarperCollins Canada for publicity efforts that never stop. To Charidy Johnston and
Cory Beatty at HarperCollins Canada for being smart and funny and not losing me in that dark field in Calgary. To Leo MacDonald for supporting my career 1,000 percent.

To Steve for early comments and support. Most of all to Max and Lucas for giving me life.

Switch
Copyright © 2011 by Tish Cohen.
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Published by Harper
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Published simultaneously in the United States by Egmont USA.

FIRST CANADIAN EDITION

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Trophy
Canada™ is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers.

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ISBN 978-1-55468-801-2

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EPub Edition © APRIL 2011 ISBN: 978-1-443-40716-8

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