The Ol’ Switcheroo
“Nobody likes me,” wailed Princess Pita Pertenshus.
You got that right, thought Switch. She was Pita’s personal server. Aloud, Switch said, “Sure they do. You got tons of likes.”
Sneakily, Switch spammed the ‘like’ button on the device in her pocket. Serving Pita was a lot of work.
Princess Pita harumphed. “Barely seven hundred smileys.”
“That’s not bad—“
“Hmph! Floyd Hoity-Toity got over a thousand for ‘In the cookie of life, friends are the chocolate chips.’ Talk about stale! My ‘Another selfie in paradise’ blasts it to bits.”
Switch gave her thumb a rest. “You can’t win ’em all.”
“I’m running away,” Pita declared with a flippity fling of her raven’s wing hair. The BeautyBot dyed her otherwise dishwater locks that color every month. Her name wasn’t really ‘Pita’ either. It was ‘Pia,’ but she’d earned the secret tag by being a first-class Pain In The Anatomy (which part depended on the day and the offense).
She also wasn’t really a princess; she just acted like one.
After cloning was outlawed, Switch had been hired to work at The Residence because she looked like Pia. Pia’s mother thought a duplicate of her darling dearest, her precious pet, her extra-extra-special snowflake, was the way to go with servants.
Unlike Pia’s hair, Switch’s black mane was the real deal. Also unlike Pia, Switch knew that posting a million selfies, or even getting a billion smileys, didn’t mean people actually liked you.
“You’ll be sorry when I’m gone,” Pita proclaimed.
Oh no I won’t, Switch thought. More than a little fed up with her bratty boss, she didn’t bother to try to soothe her. “You’re not going anywhere because if you do, your mummy will switch my device and she already deleted most of my accounts last time you promised — er, threatened — to run away.”
Switch’s unexpected remark worked, sort of. Pita stopped pouting long enough to get angry.
“I’ll switch you!” Pita pulled back her arm as if to throw the device, but of course she didn’t. She never let go of that thing, not even when she slept on her Princess Pillowtop platform.
Switch sighed. Princess Pita didn’t know the first thing about being switched.
Title: The Ol' Switcheroo
Genre: Children (chapter book)
Age range: 7-12
Word count: 14K
Author name: Sue Seabury
The hook: Prince & Pauper x Hunger Games. A special snowflake gets more than she bargains for when she runs away from her cushy Residence and winds up in the Heap, home to a radioactive river, killer kidnappers, and giant tiger rats.
Synopsis: Switch is the look-alike servant to Princess Pita Pertenshus who lives inside The Residence, a walled palace befitting the heiress to the futuristic sales empire, Useless Junque, Inc.
Pita is an extra-special type of snowflake, and a first-class troublemaker.
Switch’s job is to take her punishments, but she longs to return to the Heap. Even if it is made up of piles of garbage, it's her home.
What she doesn’t realize is that Pita wants to go with her.
After a particularly harsh punishment (getting her device wiped completely clean), the pair make a daring escape over the Wall. The Heap isn’t like what Switch remembers and she quickly gets lost in the maze of muck. Worse, the duo get nabbed by the baddest banditos in the Heap: SnapTrap and Minikin.
Things are looking dire for the runaways, but Switch keeps her head and devises a getaway plan. Too bad Pita refuses to go along with it. That gal can be a real Pain in the Axis! Switch manages to break free, albeit with a ball-and-chain princess in tow.
Around every crummy corner, Switch and Pita encounter more danger, as well as some unexpected kindness. But the question of whether they should stay in the Heap or head home keeps popping up like an unwanted jack-in-the-box.
In the tradition of Mark Twain, The Ol’ Switcheroo uses humor to explore important topics such as social values, friendship, and perception versus reality.
Target audience: Kids who like to read, and kids who don't, as well as anyone who's ever had an untoward experience with parents and/or pudding.
Bio: Aspiring intergalactic princess. Sadly, the one time I managed to infiltrate a spaceship, it turned out to have the permanent destination of Coney Island. As to whether I've ever had any awkward encounters with pudding or outlaws, I prefer not to comment.
Platform: I have a very nice milk crate that does the job.
Education: Life, and a BA from Conn College.
Experience: Writer/editor for many moons.
Hobbies: Reading, writing, and seeking out the world's finest dark chocolate.
Hometown: For reasons unknown, the unlikely answer is Baltimore.
Age: With three younger sisters grown up, you can hardly expect me to own it.