Boy Swap Read Free

the back of the room to retrieve my flute. Two oboe players, Melanie and Amber, nudge each other and point at my scarf. The entire French horn section is staring at me and the trumpets, well, at least the female trumpet players, have all stopped to look in my direction too. Lizzie walks out of the band director, Mr. Shank’s, office with a handful of music and almost drops it when she sees me.
    “Oh. My. God. Brooke.”
    “Hi Lizzie,” I say. “Cute top.” Lizzie is wearing a really cute tee shirt with touristy London spots airbrushed on it.
    “Forget my top, where on earth did you get that scarf!” she says, reaching for my head.
    “Oh, this?” I say, touching my scarf again and recounting what I was told to say. “Sale at Macy’s.”
    “Shut up! Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you pick up one for me too? You know I’ve wanted one of these scarves forever!”
    Ooh. All very good questions. Why didn’t I get her one?
    “Um, well there was only one there. Or I totally would have bought you one. And I didn’t want to call and rub it in or anything.” That sounds plausible.
    “Man. I can’t believe you got one of the scarves! You’re going to let me borrow it, right?”
    Uh, what? Nooooo. I am sure that is against the rules. What’s my mom always saying when my pesky little cousin is acting hyper? Oh yeah, redirect. “Tell me where you got your shirt—I totally love it!” I say.
    “Oh, just Target. No biggie,” she says hurriedly. “So when do I get to borrow it?”
    Shoot. The redirecting thing didn’t throw her. It must only work on three-year olds.
    “Hey, Honey,” a warm voice whispers into my ear and two strong arms envelop my waist. Chris. My hero, saving me from any further scarf-borrowing talk.
    I wrap my arms around his neck and give him a good morning kiss. He’s so handsome; especially in the mornings when his dark blond hair is still a little damp from his shower. And he smells so, so good. All, I was just outside chopping down a pine forest like.
    “I’ll talk to you later,” Lizzie says and walks to her seat to warm up. Lizzie plays the tuba, which, you can imagine, is just as unsexy as it sounds. Toting around a gigantic hunk of metal that probably outweighs every boy in the room and puffing out your lips as you spit into this giant metal shaft is not so attractive. But Lizzie loves it. And she’s good at it. And no one else in band could lift it.
    “So are we going to Katie’s party after the game tonight?” Chris asks, arms still around my waist with no plans of moving any time soon. Katie Hodges’s family hosts band parties after every home football game. They are legendary in the band. Her house has excellent hidden nooks for making out. And her mom can make a mean chocolate chip cookie, too.
    “Sure,” I say. “Can we give Lizzie a ride?” Chris sighs a little but then nods his head yes. I know he hates that I always have him carting Lizzie around. But she’s like, my own personal walking talking birth control. I know that Chris is ready to have sex, but hello, I’m totally not. And I’m so not having sex for the first time in the back of his filthy little 98’ Ford Focus. No way. I’ve decided that the perfect time for us to first have sex will be on the band trip to Disney World over spring break. The Disney trip is four months away and by that time we’ll have been dating for eight glorious months. I’ll totally be ready by then, I’m sure. And we can do it on a beach at night with only the moon for light and waves crashing into our toes. It will be super romantic.
    Chris leans in to kiss me again, and I see Mr. Shank walk into the room. “Ooops, keep that thought,” I say. “I better get to my seat.” I race to the front of the room to the flute section. Chris walks over to his drum set, picks up his drumsticks, and starts warming up.
    I take my seat next Rayne, the first chair flutist. I totally hate her. Okay, that’s mean. Let’s say I