Trading Spaces

By Kathleen Bacus

Sibling rivalry run amok

Jonas Kragen and his twin sister, Jillian, have been going at it since before they were born: launching fierce kick-boxing matches in their mother’s womb, turning walkers into bumper cars, grade school recesses into blood sport, and puberty into pistols at ten paces.

Jillian thinks Jonas is Exhibit ‘A’ in the case for man’s evolution from the ape and what brains he has are all in his biceps. Jonas is convinced his sister is a shallow little drama queen with a gift for getting under his skin.

Fourteen and still feuding, this dueling duo is in for a rude awakening when they undergo a shocker of a switcharoo and discover they’ve inexplicably changed places! Jonas is suddenly sporting toe rings, and wearing gunky mascara and candy apple red nail polish. Jillian’s got Jonas’s hairy legs, humongous feet, and tidy whities.

And Jonas wants them back!

With cheerleading tryouts and the big football scrimmage coming up, these traumatized twins must find a way to peacefully coexist long enough to figure out how to reverse the surreal swap before someone discovers they’ve traded spaces.

It’s a battle of the sexes, sibling-style, where Freaky Friday is child’s play and “walk a mile in my shoes” takes on a whole new meaning.

How do you say “gender gap”?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathleen Bacus
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476116402

Kathleen Bacus

Kathy's unconventional path to publication can certainly be described as the "road less traveled." A pioneer for women in law enforcement, she was one of the first female state troopers in Iowa, and she learned two valuable lessons that have served her well in her pursuit of a professional writing career: never give up and never stop laughing.Kathy is the award-winning author of the Calamity Jayne Mystery series. She's been a Romantic Times American Title finalist, a Golden Heart finalist, and a finalist in the prestigious Daphne Du Maurier Award of Excellence contest, among other writing accolades.

Book preview

TRADING SPACES

By Kathleen Bacus

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Kathleen Bacus on Smashwords

TRADING SPACES

Copyright © 2012 by Kathleen Cecile Bacus

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

*****

Dedicated to my very own set of multiples, Katie, Erick, and Ashley. Let’s see. What’s that saying again? Triple work, but triple joy? Hmmm. About that…

Okay. Just kidding! Triplets rule!

*****

TRADING SPACES

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Chapter One

Stop banging on the door, jerkwad!

Get out of the bathroom, horse face!

I still have to put on my makeup!

Use the other bathroom, Your Royal Highness! Jonas Frederick Kragen ran a hand through his hair and pounded on the door again. This time lots louder. Get out! I’m gonna be late for football practice and the coach said he’d bench me if I was late one more time. Jonas looked around to make sure their grandma was out of ear shot before he added a swear word that would earn him a ten minute lecture on his language and a week’s grounding when their parents returned. Now, Jillian!

Drop dead, Jockstrap! his sister yelled. You use the other bathroom.

My clothes are in there, moron! Jonas pounded on the door again. I left them in there when I went to grab a towel. While I was gone you stuck your fat butt in ahead of me. You’ve been in there forty-five minutes. Get out or I’m headed for your room and it won’t be a pretty sight once you finally do show that thing you call a face!

Jonas clinched his fist and felt his ears grow warm. Only his sister, Jillian, could make him mad enough that his ears would glow like red hot peppers. He pounded on the door again. I’m warning you. You’d better get out now or your iPod is history, Jonas yelled.

The bathroom door flew open. You wouldn’t dare! His sister glared at him across the threshold, her face covered with a drippy, white goop. Jonas found himself wishing she’d wear it all the time so it covered her ugly, selfish mug. Jillian, better known as the Teenaged Drama Queen, always thought she had it so bad.

Oh yeah? Why wouldn’t I dare? Jonas asked.

Because I’d trash that video game system you always seem to have your nose glued to, his sister challenged.

Oooh. I’m real scared, Jonas said, performing an exaggerated shiver.

No. You’re clueless, that’s what you are, his twin told him. And why not? You’re just a stupid guy. All you have to do is shower, roll on some deodorant—if we’re lucky, that is—brush those bucky beaver teeth of yours and you’re good to go.

Oh, boo friggin’ hoo, Jonas said. "So it takes you a little longer to slap on your war paint. Big deal. It’s not as if it makes all that much difference. You still look like something out of Night of the Living Dead."

His sister stamped her foot. You are such a Neanderthal. You don’t get it. No one cares what you goons wear or how you look when you get to school. You have no idea what girls have to do merely to look passable. It’s four times what you bozos do. When we get to school, it’s like we’re under a microscope and everything has to be just perfect or we’ll be like totally rejected. So, it only stands to reason we need quadruple the prep time.

But you don’t have to be at the weight room at six-thirty this morning, Jonas replied, reaching out to grab his sister under each arm pit, lifting her and depositing her outside the bathroom, surprised by just how light she was.

You worm! his sister screamed and reached out as if to grab his throat. With her white, oozing face and wild eyes doing this freaky, rolling back into her head number, she really did look like something from a monster movie. You parasitic micro-organism! You—you pig-headed protozoan! You couldn’t last a day in my shoes!

Right. And you’d be a weepy puddle of tears if you had to walk a mile in my footsteps, sister, Jonas yelled back. Now beat it, brainiac.

Oh! And to think I shared a womb with you, you insensitive doofus! his sister yelled. If Mom and Dad were here—

I know. I know. You’d go narking to them about your big, bad brother. Lucky for Mom and Dad, they’re on a cruise ship far away from your waa waa tantrums. Get a life, would you? Jonas snarled. He slammed the door shut and locked it and leaned against the bathroom closet door, smiling.

He’d take brawn over brains any day.

The door knob rattled, followed by an open-palmed smack. Jonas shook his head. Jillian never gave up. Or in.

Jillian? Why are you and Jonas fighting again? Don’t you and Jonas love each other? Jonas heard his six-year-old sister, Josie, ask.

Love that…that cave dweller? Jillian shrieked. You’ve got to joking! What’s to love? He’ll never understand how hard it is to be a teen-aged girl these days. His sister backed up her assertion with another smack on the door. You are sooo lucky, Josie, Jillian told their younger sister. Just thank your lucky stars you aren’t stuck with an evil twin. It seriously bites.

But shouldn’t you two be each other’s bestest friends? Josie asked. Like Kitty and me?

Jonas raised an eyebrow at his adorable, if naïve, sister’s question. Kitty was Josie’s best friend in the second grade.

Hello! Have you met our brother? Jackass Jonass? He heard Jillian respond. Gangly, disproportionate, knuckle-dragger. All arms and legs. Oh, and don’t forget: one big…fat…mouth! Three bangs on the bathroom door accompanied her words.

Huh? Jonas heard Josie say.

Never mind, Josie, Jillian said. Just know that it would take a miracle of Biblical proportions for Jonas and me to peacefully co-exist, she said.

Huh? Josie said again.

Bottom line? Your ‘bestest friends’ fantasy? So not gonna happen, kiddo, Jonas heard Jillian say. A safer bet would be me making the football team and Jonas the cheerleading squad than us becoming friends. And I assure you I do not intend to try out for the football squad in this—or any—lifetime.

But Jillian—

Ohmigosh! Jonas’s twin suddenly squealed. I’ve got to get this gunk off my face before my pores get all clogged! If I break out in zits before basketball cheerleading tryouts and the first home football game, the Middleton Mustangs are gonna be short a very ‘oh-fensive’ offensive player: one arrogant jackass of a wide receiver!

Jonas heard the slam of a door from down the hall.

He found himself agreeing with Jillian on one thing. The chances Jonas and his twin would ever be close were roughly the same as Jonas being voted homecoming queen and wearing a dress to prom.

You’re dreamin’, dude.

Cuttin’ it pretty close there aren’t we, Kragen? Jonas’s football coach and P.E. teacher, Mr. Jacobson, tapped his watch and frowned as Jonas hurried into the weight room. I thought with the fear of being sidelined you’d be the first one here, he said. Remember. No pain. No gain.

Right, Coach, Jonas said and nodded, hustling to the closest available weight machine. And the pain he would be talking about is my sister, he added in a low voice to his best friend and teammate, Gordy Thompkins, who had already worked up a good sweat at a nearby machine.

You and Jillian still buttin’ heads? Gordy asked, flexing already well-developed triceps. You two have fought non-stop since the day I moved here.

Jonas began his first set of repetitions. Make that since before birth, he said, grunting as he poured his anger and frustration into each curl. My mom says we were constantly kicking inside her the whole time she was carrying us. And my folks had to get rid of our walkers because we turned them into a blood sport by plowing into each other.

Gordy shook his head. Man, I don’t get it. Jillian’s cool. What’s the problem?

She’s nice to you because she’s got a crush on you, Einstein, Jonas pointed out. To me, she’s Freddy Krueger in drag.

That’s brutal, man.

You’re tellin’ me. Can you imagine being almost joined at the hip with someone who is all sugar and spice and everything nice for the cameras, but the minute someone yells ‘cut’ she turns into one of those creepy things that jump out and try to off you on that Resident Evil video game. It’s like scary, Mary.

Maybe she’s just being hormonal, Gordy said, with a grunt. It happens.

Jonas shook his head. No one could have PMS that bad and that often and not be in a medical journal or scientific study somewhere. No. That’s just Jillian."

Whatever, man. Gordy finished his lifts, sat up, and grabbed a white towel—wiping his face. But I still don’t see it.

Jonas shook his head. Apparently Gordy was confused as to just who the evil twin was here. Trust little con artist Jillian to run a scam on his best friend and make herself out to be the saint—and Jonas, the sinner—in the process.

Give her time. Once she figures out you’re not interested in her, she’ll out herself to you, Jonas predicted. And then you’ll see the real Jillian Kragen in all her horror movie glory.

If you say so, Jonas. If you say so. Gordy stood and tossed the damp towel at Jonas. I’m outta here. Catch you in Algebra, he said. If I survive first period with big bad Jillian Kragen, that is.

Jonas continued his workout with renewed vigor. Everyone these days thought they were Leno.

You bad mouth me all the time, Jonas! And don’t try to deny it!

Why should I? You give me so much material.

You just can’t stand it that I’m more popular, have lots more friends, and get better grades than you do.

If your life is so friggin’ picture perfect, why are you always bitchin’ about it?

It would be picture perfect. If you were out of the picture, that is!

"You’re just steamed because you have this major