Exchanges

By Jessica Lake

“Oh? Hello.”

The front door she had answered framed her. Peering through the unopened screen door put her in soft focus. The composition was stunning.

“May I help you?” she said.

The girl was a stunner—maybe not to most boys, but to this caller.

“Is Danny home?”

There was a story in those three words. The story of a horrible row, harsh words, and a contrite boy returning for absolution.

“No. I’m so sorry. He’ll be away for some time. Exchange students.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Danny’s staying in Wellington with my family. New Zealand. And I’m staying here. You know—I’m here and Danny is gone. An exchange.”

Maybe you noticed, but her manner of speech seems rehearsed. Like this had happened in her head many times.

“That’s impossible… I mean, that can’t be true. I have something I’ve got to tell him.”

She puzzled a bit. He had misspoken his line.

“Maybe I can tell him?”

“Thanks. But no. I have to say it to him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve got to go.”

With that, he turned and fled again. The girl watched his back as he stumbled down the walkway. The farther away he got, the faster he walked.

The girl remained in the doorway long after the boy’s trail had gone cold. Nothing had gone to script.

Here let me tell you what she’s thinking.

“What just happened? He stared right through me. John didn’t even ask my name.”

And then the tears came. Not in a deluge or a torrent, but rather a select few. One for each unforced error leading to an irreversible transition. Game set.

Her last thought was a doozy.

“Of course. He said he only likes girls.”