Titolo: Boy Swap
Autore: Kristina Springer
Genere: Young adult contemporaneo
Trama: Research shows that seven out of ten girl fights are over a guy. The Boy Swap Club fixes all that. In an effort to spread around male cuteness and minimize fights and backstabbing, they just share boyfriends. And Brooke Thomas, consummate band member, has been asked to join the super secret club because the president of the club has the hots for her guy.
Brooke doesn’t want to share her boyfriend. I mean, who does? But how can she say no? She, a second chair flutist in the school band, finds herself sitting between the Varsity Cheerleader Captain and the Homecoming Queen at the first meeting. Her friends will never believe this in a million years. Too bad she can’t tell them. But she knows. This one event can change her entire life. What if she becomes actual friends with one of these girls? It might be worth sharing her boyfriend.
Besides, he’ll always love her best, right?
Trama: Research shows that seven out of ten girl fights are over a guy. The Boy Swap Club fixes all that. In an effort to spread around male cuteness and minimize fights and backstabbing, they just share boyfriends. And Brooke Thomas, consummate band member, has been asked to join the super secret club because the president of the club has the hots for her guy.
Brooke doesn’t want to share her boyfriend. I mean, who does? But how can she say no? She, a second chair flutist in the school band, finds herself sitting between the Varsity Cheerleader Captain and the Homecoming Queen at the first meeting. Her friends will never believe this in a million years. Too bad she can’t tell them. But she knows. This one event can change her entire life. What if she becomes actual friends with one of these girls? It might be worth sharing her boyfriend.
Besides, he’ll always love her best, right?
Kristina Springer is the best-selling author of
THE ESPRESSOLOGIST, MY FAKE BOYFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS, JUST YOUR AVERAGE
PRINCESS, THE PAPARAZZI PROJECT and BOY SWAP. She has a Masters in Writing from
DePaul University and she resides in a suburb of Chicago with her husband and
children. Read more about her athttp://www.kristinaspringer.com.
Capitolo 1
Raise your right hand and repeat after
me:
We, the members of the Boy Swap Club,
being of totally sound minds and rockin’ bodies, do here forth promise to be
true to the following rules:
Never hog your boyfriend all to
yourself.
Never get mad at a sister member for
dating your guy.
Don’t go all the way with any of the
swapped guys.
And never, ever, fall in love with any guys involved in the swap.
I put down my hand and smile at the
group of girls I’ve just joined. I can’t believe that I’m really here. I don’t
totally understand what it is that I just agreed to but who cares? I’m hanging
out with the “it” girls. Cassie Deegan and Caitlyn Ray, the two most popular girls
in our entire school, run this club and I about died when Cassie invited me to
attend. She slipped me a note after Biology this afternoon that said, “4 p.m.,
Bookends Bookstore, Travel section. Be there.” At first I thought, oh great—I
pissed somebody off and now she’s going to lure me into an empty corner of the
giant bookstore so she and her friends can kick my butt, film it on their
cells, and post it on YouTube. But curiosity got the better of me, and I
couldn’t believe it when I showed up and found ten of the prettiest, most
popular girls at my school sitting in a circle waiting for me.
Well, except for, blech, Delaney Adams,
the only girl who might actually want to kick my butt. She stands a few feet
behind the C2, scowling and appearing generally unhappy that I’m
here. Not that that’s new. Obviously she was the “Nay” in the Yay or Nay vote
on my invitation. But Cassie and Caitlyn must really want me here so she can
just go ahead and deal.
“Okay,”
Cassie bellows to the circle, interrupting my thoughts, “I need to make it
clear that not just anybody can join Boy Swap. This is a super secret elite
club that you have to be tapped into. So don’t like, go running off and telling
your friends or anything. Because we’ll deny it all. You were chosen to join
our club because you have a desirable boyfriend.” Cassie looks directly at me
and gives me a tight smirk.
Hmmm…Chris is a hottie. With his
adorable dimples and dive-right-in ocean blue eyes, I think he’s irresistible.
But they really picked me because my boyfriend is cute? How weird.
“Look
at the girl to your left and the girl to your right,” Caitlyn instructs.
I glance to my left at Sarah Reynolds
with her long shiny blonde hair; she’s the swim team captain and last year’s
homecoming queen. On my right is Jackie Adelson with glossy auburn waves; she’s
a varsity cheerleader and the lead in every single school play. I finger my own
chin-length dark brown hair. Okay. So if the three of us went head-to-head for
a Pantene commercial I’d come in third. But Chris loves my hair. He’s always
running his hands through it when we’re making out.
“They may not be your friends outside in
the real world,” Cassie continues, “but in here, they’re your sisters.”
Wow. Sisters! I’ve always wanted a
sister. Or two.Or ten. I reach down into my purse for my phone—I want to text
Lizzie so bad and tell her all about it. Oooh, but I can’t. Cassie just warned
against that, right? Well, I know, and that is what’s important. Currently, my
school social status is kind of up for grabs. I’m not exactly what you would
call popular. Okay, who am I kidding? If we had to walk the school with our
status branded across our chests for all the world to see like Hester Prynne in
The Scarlet Letter, mine would read
“BN” for Band Nerd.
Yes, I’m totally a band nerd. I am the
second chair flutist in our school symphony as well as in the marching band.
Ack, I know, I know! The orange and black toy soldier band uniforms are
flattering on no one! Believe me, if I could convince Mr. Shank, our band
director, to let us out on the football field in cute sundresses and wedge
sandals, I would. But it is a sacrifice that I make to play my music. I love
the flute. When I play it, I feel all Tinkerbell twinkly. If you play an
instrument in the band then the flute is the only way to go. Your sound stands
out higher and prettier than all of the other instruments and it feels more
like they are accompanying you. But don’t mention to anyone that I said that.
I’ll have a bunch of pissed off clarinetists and saxophonists on my back.
Anyway, maybe I don’t have to forever be
known as a band nerd? This could really change everything for me. Maybe now
I’ll make friends with some of these girls and break into their cliques. And
that would totally piss Delaney off as well, which is a major bonus. She just
hates that I’m sitting here smack dab in the middle of her world. We’ve spent
the last five years pretending each other didn’t exist so I imagine this is
completely killing her. Her eyes are rolling so far back in her head I’m afraid
they might detach and plop right out onto the floor at any moment.
“If there are no questions, I’d like you
to sign the forms I’m passing out and…”
“I have a question,” I say, shooting my
hand in the air. All eyes fall on me. “Um, I guess I don’t quite understand
what I’m agreeing to. What is the Boy Swap Club exactly?”
Cassie sighs and rubs her temple with
her right hand.
Whoops. Did she already explain and I
wasn’t paying attention?
“Research shows that seven out of ten
girl fights are over a guy,” Cassie says quickly. “We’ve discovered the secret
to harmony and happiness at school. In order to maximize on male cuteness and
minimize on fights and backstabbing, we just share our boyfriends. ”
“And the guys don’t care?” I ask.
“Like we tell them.” Caitlyn laughs and
the rest of the girls join her. Okay, so apparently everyone here does know how
things work already, and I’m asking too many questions. But come on, it sounds
a little strange. How do you share boyfriends without their knowledge? And why
do they want to share boyfriends anyway? I don’t even like to share my fries.
Although, loaning Chris out to get to hang with these girls is intriguing. It
would be hysterical if I actually became popular from being in their club, so
popular that Delaney would beg me to be friends with her again and then I could reject her snooty butt. Oooh,
that would be amazing. And I’m sure they’d return Chris to me in the same
condition as I left him, right? Hmm. Oh, what am I saying? This is ridiculous.
“So, like I said before, if there are no
other questions…” Cassie scans the circle with an arched eyebrow—daring someone
to say something. But no one makes a peep. “I’ll need you each to sign one of
these,” she adds. A stack of papers is quickly passed around the circle of
girls, and I start to read mine. It’s some kind of boyfriend permission form.
These girls are funny!
“Okay,” Cassie interrupts my thoughts,
“you are being passed an agreement that we’ll need you to sign immediately. It
is really simple. I, fill in your name, voluntarily participate in the
Interscholastic Boyfriend Exchange Program, here forth referred to as ‘Boy Swap
Club’ blah blah, of which my boyfriend, fill in his name, unknowingly shall
participate, blah blahblah, turn the page, enter into this agreement under no
force and of my free will, yaddayadda, for a period of no less than three
months, blah blahblah. If contract is broken, penalties up to and including
excommunication from entire student body…well, you get the gist. If you want to
join our club, sign now.”
Seriously, can this girl slow down? I
don’t want to give away a kidney or something. I scan the first few lines. I
don’t know. Should I do it? Part of me says drop the paper on the chair and get
the heck out of here. Part of me says don’t be a bore, take a chance, and see
what happens. What’s the harm? I raise my hand again.
“Yes?” Cassie says, narrowing her eyes
at me.
“Can I get a copy of this to read at
home?” I hear a few sighs and see several girls give each other looks. Yikes.
They’re probably all wondering who let the loser in. But I just want to gather
more information. I mean, this isn’t exactly like when I joined French club.
Stop it Brooke! This is so not going to
change your Band Nerd status. And besides, these girls are, like, the smartest
and prettiest at school. They are readily signing it so it can’t be that bad,
right? And it’s not like Chris would ever cheat on me anyway so I’m totally
getting the best of both worlds. “I mean, never mind. Sounds fab,” I add quickly
and scribble my name. “Here,” I pass my form to Sarah and try to appear
thrilled. Everyone shuffles their papers back to Cassie.
My stomach flips. Ugh. What did I just
agree to? That was rash wasn’t it? I didn’t even take time to really think it
over. Let girls date my Chris? Why would I do that? And why do they want Chris
anyway? True, he’s hot. But he’s just as big a band nerd as me. Although what’s
wrong with band nerds anyway? We’re cool. In our own way. Maybe the popular
kids are finally ready to give us the appreciation we deserve. Ah, who am I
kidding? No, things are fine the way they are. I don’t need to be in this silly
club. Now if I can just get that piece of paper back… “Um, excuse me, if you
wouldn’t mind, I’d…”
“Okay,” Caitlyn says, completely
ignoring me. “There is one last piece of business before we let you go today.”
She props her Dooney& Burke bag up on her lap and pulls from it a fistful
of the rare, extremely sought after, pale pink scarves.
A collective “ooooooh” goes around the circle
and every girl is staring at the pile of scarves with wide eyes.
“You will each be given one of these
pink scarves,” Caitlyn says but I can hardly hear her. My mind is racing.
Ohmigod! The scarves! Lizzie and I have been searching everywhere for these
scarves. All the girls have. It’s like, the popular girls started a fad and
none of us could join in because we couldn’t find the darn things anywhere. And
now I am getting one? Lizzie is going to DIE!
But wait, grasp reality here, I don’t need one. I’ve made it all this time
without a scarf. Without being popular. I’m fine. Closing eyes now.Nothing to
see here. Well, maybe just a little peek.
“You must always have the scarf on you
in some way—neck, hair, wrist, whatever,” Caitlyn says. “If it doesn’t match
your outfit that day well, then have it on your backpack or your purse in some
fashion. This is our signal to each other that we are all in the BSC. Never,
and I mean NEVER, tell anyone where you got the scarf. If you are ever asked,
tell them it was a sale at Macy’s.” Everyone is bobbing their heads up and down
in excitement. My fingers are twitching at the idea of possibly holding a scarf
in just a few seconds. Cailtyn walks the circle, dropping one scarf in each
girl’s lap.
I’m losing will power fast. Must. Touch.
Scarf. Caitlyn’s getting closer to me. What will people say if they see me at
school wearing this scarf? Matching with all of these super cool girls,
together in solidarity.A sign that I belong with them. That I, Brooke Thomas,
second chair flutist, am someone important. My right leg is bouncing up and
down in anticipation. And then Caitlyn drops a scarf on it.
Oh my God. I drape it over my left wrist and
hold it up toward the light. This is the most beautiful scarf I’ve ever seen.
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento