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Synopsis: Two romances in one book!
What if you went to sleep plain and woke up beautiful--or vice versa? An "Ugly Betty" and a Popular Beauty wind up trading faces--and lives--and the situation is not what either one expected.
When 15-year-old Darcy Doane wakes up as Cybil Sheffield, she is thrilled. Cybil is everything Darcy has ever wanted to be. Pretty. Popular. Only all the attention isn't exactly what Darcy expected. Especially when her own brother, Joey, is crushing on her. Gross. But then there's
Cybil is shocked when she looks in the mirror and sees a face she totally doesn't recognize. She thought not always being the center of attention might be a good thing, but being invisible is hardly bearable. Even her boyfriend,
With the school play, potential boyfriends and an A-List party coming up, Darcy and Cybil have a lot to work out. There's a learning curve for both of them, especially after they are caught fighting at school and forced by the principal to help her at a Return-to-Work project for displaced women. Trouble is, how do they get their own lives back? And who ends up with what guy?
Brrrr. It's cold in here. I must've left a window open. Uuuuh. I hate to get out from under the covers. One, two, three, fling.
My teeth chatter as I hunt for my slippers. Where’s the carpet? It feels like … like wood under my feet. Maybe I'm still dreaming that I'm in Silas Marner's cottage. I pinch myself.
What's going on? Why is it so dark in here, anyway? Did the hall nightlight burn out or something? Where's the lamp?
Where's the nightstand?
What's this? The wall? Okay, I follow the wall and find the light switch. Ack! I've run out of wall. Did I leave my bedroom door open?
Where am I?
There’s a nightlight here reflecting off a mirror. Somehow, I find myself in a strange bathroom with a granite floor. I flick the light switch on and see myself in the big, full‑wall mirror. I take a good look.
I lean in close and blink. Cybil blinks. I smile. Cybil smiles. Her smile is dazzling.
I nod. Cybil nods. I touch my nose. Cybil touches her nose.
Wait a minute. I can feel my nose, and it is cute and round and small enough to fit under a dime! I've morphed into Cybil! Wow! Is this for real? Maybe I should pinch myself again. Ow!
I take another look. Yes! I am Cybil. Even in the morning, without makeup, she looks beautiful. Her hair's barely even messed up.
I look at my hands. Instead of large hands with thick fingers and clipped fingernails, I've got little hands and oval fingernails painted with Cybil's trademark Pink Opal Glaze nail polish. Hey, my toenails are painted Pink Opal Glaze, too. Who knew?
Upon further examination I also detect a pair of pointy, perky breasts, way bigger than mine even when I'm bloated, peering through the semi‑sheer nightgown I'm wearing instead of my over‑sized T-shirt. Wow, I'm not even sure what to do with these babies. I'll have to learn to use them wisely.
What am I thinking? Okay, for some reason, I look like Cybil, and I’ve been transported to some bedroom that must be hers. But how? Why? And, anyway, even if I look like Cybil, can I possibly pull off being Cybil? I don’t know how to act popular. I don’t even know to talk to most people. It’s not as if I grew up looking beautiful and wearing great clothes, which must make everything much easier.
Clothes! Maybe I should get dressed. Maybe I could think better with clothes on. I certainly can’t run around in this … this nightie all day.
What day is this, anyway? Friday? Yikes! I've got an algebra test—
No, wait. Darcy has an algebra test. Wait, a few days ago Cybil was moved into the class. Does she study? Huh? Why am I even thinking about algebra?
What am I going to do? What about Mom and Dad and Joey? Do they think I'm missing? Am I missing? Are they frantically searching the house and the woods for me? Or am "I" still home? Maybe "I'm" sitting at the breakfast table eating Grape Nuts, as usual. Maybe "I" have turned into an android.
Or. Maybe Cybil has been turned into me?
The Perfect Guy
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Synopsis: Can Rebecca turn her new stepbrother into her new love?
Rebecca's not so sure about her relationship with her new stepfather. She knows he can't replace her real dad, but she thinks she can break through his cool surface by helping him with the school play. But things don't go as planned, and as friendships start to change, Rebecca faces surprising truths about herself and her friends. Will she find happiness in her new family and find The Perfect Guy?
"I don’t think of Pres as a brother, but I don’t have to tell you that. You know how I’ve felt about Pres ever since we saw him starring as
when the school put on The Pirates of Penzance last year." Frederick
"Yeah, that started it." Celeste sighed.
"When Mom started dating Pres’s father a few weeks after that, I decided Pres was the perfect guy—blond, handsome, absolutely drool-worthy. One look and I … I just knew."
Celeste placed the back of her hand on her forehead and struck a melodramatic pose. "Ooooh, and the fact that Pres is president of the student council, a good athlete, and sings in the school choir just reinforces your conviction that he's the 'perfect' one."
"True," I said, ignoring her theatrics. "Don’t forget, he’s going to be a devoted lawyer some day too." I mean, wasn't stuff like that important? Unlike Celeste Sullivan, who had an endless stream of boyfriends, I’d dated only occasionally. The day after we’d finished sixth grade Celeste had instinctively learned the fine art of charming every guy she met. She obviously had natural talents that I lacked. I decided that I was the type of person who needed to wait for just the right guy to come along, and then things would work out. In the meantime, I’d been content to mostly daydream about boys, rather than actually deal with them. Celeste said I was "innocent," but I think she really meant "naive." I think I'm, you know, practical. What's wrong with that?
"By the way, Celeste, Josh is like a brother to me and he doesn’t get upset when I tickle him," I said, feeling that I should defend my right to tickle Pres, even though, well, I doubted I ever would. At least, not until we’d established the perfect romantic relationship. I knew one would evolve once we were living in the same house and we had the opportunity to really get to know each other. "Josh just tickles me right back. He knows it leaves me helpless."
"But Josh isn’t really your brother," Celeste said seriously, "much as I’d sometimes like to donate him to you."
"Pres isn’t my brother either."
"He’ll be your stepbrother," Celeste reminded me. "You’ll be living in the same house with him."
"And that," I said with a triumphant smile, "will give me the chance I need to get close to him."
"It'll also give you time to drive each other crazy, just like Josh and me," Celeste said.
"Hey, you and Josh get along great," I said. But Celeste’s implication got me thinking. What if Pres and I didn’t get along? What if we wound up bickering constantly like some brothers and sisters I could name? That would never happen—would it?
Hey, Nobody's Perfect
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Synopsis: Insulting a guy in a wheelchair--is that any way to start a romance?
Life was complicated enough for Sivia before Keeley came into her life.
Her parent's divorce did not wipe out their traditional family values. Dad is still way too self-centered, Mom is still resentful, Russ is still shoving food in his mouth and Sivia doesn’t need any more drama. But when the new student, obnoxious and legless Keeley, becomes her project partner, her life becomes even more complicated.
Family friction, peer pressure and her overly controlling father are threats her budding relationship—but prejudices she never knew she had and doesn't want to acknowledge are the biggest hurdle of all.
"Brad put his hand on my shoulder. The vibrations zapped straight to my heart, among other body parts. "You going? We need all the support we can get if we're going to beat Springfield."
"Of course. Sure. I'll be there! I wouldn't miss it for anything," I babbled. Why did I have to suddenly be conversationally challenged?
"Great." Brad winked at me. "See you there."
I nodded and gulped, so uber-excited I couldn't speak. Where were my always-get-an-A-in-Language-Arts skills when I needed them? I watched Brad stroll off to class. Class! I had thirty seconds to get to the absolute other end of school.
My shoes squish-squashed as I walked as quickly as possible without breaking into an actual run. Running was a cardinal sin at Willamette City High, and there was nothing Vice Principal Whipple liked better than to lurk in the shadows just before classes started and pounce on unsuspecting violators. His speed and quickness in collaring students earned him the well-deserved nickname, The Whip.
I race-walked into the Home Arts room just as the bell rang and took a seat at a table by the window. Except for not wanting detention, I really had no reason to hurry to this class. I signed up for Holiday Cooking only because I needed a Home Arts credit. I could've waited, but I decided to take it now in my sophomore year and get it over with.
"Ah, Miss Groner. Nice of you to join us," said Ms Baker, an aptly named Home Arts teacher if ever there was one. "But please store your books over on that counter." She glanced at the clock. "I'm expecting a new student and he's going to need to sit at the end of the table right where you deposited your books."
I grabbed my books and trudged over to the counter, wondering why this new student just had to sit at the end of my table.
"Ah, Mr. Parrish. You're late," I heard Mrs. Baker say. "But since it's your first day at Willamette City High I'll excuse you this one time. You may take your place over there."
"Oh, thank you Mrs. Baker." The voice was faintly sarcastic and remotely familiar.
As I sat down I recognized the messy dark hair, the lopsided smile, and eyes that took in the whole room. "You're the jerk—"
"Hello again." He stuck out a bike-gloved hand. "I'm Keeley Parrish. Sorry about splashing you." Briefly, he flashed a grin. "It was purely unintentional, I assure you."
I didn't want to stare. But I was afraid to look away. I was so surprised to see him that it'd taken a couple seconds for it to register that he was in a wheelchair.
Then I saw his legs. Or rather, I didn't see his legs. I mean, he didn't have any legs, except for these stubs that ended a few inches above where his knees would have been. That explained parking where he did. I felt myself shrinking. "S-s-s-o you're Keeley," I finally managed to whisper as I reached over to shake his outstretched hand. With a nervous glance at Ms Baker, who was thumbing through some file cards, I added, "I-I'm Sivia Groner."
"You're friendlier than I thought from our first encounter." One corner of his mouth twisted upward. "Why is that?"
I studied his face for a moment. He completely didn't strike me as someone who was looking for pity. "Because you're not as much of a total jerk as I thought you were."
Keeley threw back his head and let out a deep laugh.