Trading Secrets Read Online Free Page A

community.”
    â€œYou’re probably right.”
    â€œI figured I’d just wear jeans,” I admit. “I mean, I am going there to work on the farm, remember? It doesn’t make sense for me to get all dressed up. Besides, it’s a three-hour bus ride. Who wants to dress nice for that?”
    â€œGood point.”
    â€œAnyway, Zach will probably be so shocked to see me that he won’t care what I’m wearing.”
    â€œThat’s true.” She agrees. “But his mother might.”
    â€œI’m not going there to impress his mother, Lizzie. In fact, I doubt that’s even possible.”
    â€œWell, don’t be surprised if she doesn’t approve of you wearing pants.” Lizzie starts the TV playing again, and on the opening of a show we see a couple of girls walking along a dusty road looking rather sweet and old-fashioned in their long, baggy dresses in shades of blue and green and purple. They all have on black stockings and black shoes, and on top of their heads, where their long hair is neatly pinned underneath, they have crisp white hats with strings that flutter in the breeze.
    â€œI wonder how they keep those bonnets so white,” I muse.
    â€œIt makes kind of a pretty picture, doesn’t it,” Lizzie says dreamily. “So old-fashioned and innocent looking. But kind of strange too.”
    I absently nod, absorbing this sweet scene before the image fades away and suddenly it’s a completely different scene, with a bunch of young people drinking and dancing at a noisy nightclub—talk about contrasts! This particular reality show is about Amish kids who leave their families and homes to visit the outside world. Really, it’s rather sad to see these innocent Amish teens struggling to fit into what they call “English” culture. I find myself wishing that some of them had simply stayed home. I’m sure their parents would agree.
    â€œI don’t really get why these kids leave,” I say quietly. “Their home life actually seems kind of inviting to me.”
    Lizzie grabs my arm with an alarmed expression. “Please, Micah, don’t tell me that you’re enchanted with Amishland—that you plan to go there and never come back!”
    I laugh. “Yeah, sure, that sounds like something I’d do.” But even as I blow it off, I do wonder . . . what would it really be like to be Amish?

    It’s not until I’ve tried on almost everything in my closet and my room looks like a hurricane hit that I decide what to wear for my trip to Holmes County. Call me a chicken or call me a fraud, but by the time I’m getting onto the bus with my backpack, I feel fairly certain that I can pass for a guy. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. I’m wearing a pair of my old basketball shoes and Dad’s old man jeansthat I’ve topped off with a gray sweatshirt and baggy denim jacket, also scavenged from Dad’s closet. I’ve pinned up my long, dark curly hair and shoved it into a Browns ball cap. To complete my manly look, and to make me feel better about going without a trace of makeup, I’ve donned a pair of aviator sunglasses. It’s not the kind of outfit I’d wear to school or around friends, but I tell myself that it’s comfy for traveling, and for the most part it is. Except I’m wearing two very snug sports bras to hold everything in—that’s not exactly comfortable. But I feel confident about my disguise. To any casual observer, I look like a guy. Or so I tell myself.
    However, once the bus pulls into the small, charming town of Hamrick’s Bridge, I start having serious doubts. Maybe my masculine costume is just one more major mistake. As I shove my water bottle into my backpack, I realize that nothing in there is going to help much either since I only packed more of the same. Really, what was I thinking?
    As I get off the bus, I tell myself to