Page 17 of Switch!
The plan I come up with is simple. And crazy. I’ll show up at Caleb’s house before the date. I’ll get his attention somehow and possess him. Once I reach Phase Two, I’ll throw my actual body into the trunk of his car and pick up Ashley. If she wants to do anything but drive around and talk, I’ll pretend I injured my leg playing football so we’re forced to stay close to the car… and my unconscious body. What more could a girl want? Textbook dream date!
I’m nervous the night before. An online search reveals only two McCain families in town. I choose the closest address, which is a ten-minute walk from my apartment. I can’t be sure he lives there without knocking on the door. No thanks. I promise myself to spend the night refining my plan. Instead I stay up late reading advice on how to talk to girls. From what I can tell, I’m supposed to be myself while also behaving in a way that doesn’t come natural to me at all. Ugh. Why do I want this again?
I’m a mess by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around. I keep resisting the urge to check my appearance, or put on nicer clothes, before remembering that it won’t matter. My body will be sweating it up in the trunk of a car. I made sure to research if that can be fatal. Turns out it’s not a good idea by any stretch of the imagination, but I don’t see another option. I dress in light clothing and promise myself to park in the shade.
My heart is thudding as I walk to Caleb’s address. I stop occasionally to check the crude map I drew. Must be nice to have a phone that can guide you instead. I arrive at the destination with time to spare, noticing the “proud parent” sign in the yard that boasts about a child attending the same school I go to. The house is single story with a garage to one side, and already I begin to despair, because the driveway is empty. What if Caleb went to get his hair cut before meeting Ashley or something? I stand on the sidewalk, unsure what to do. Two little kids on bikes race past and someone walks by with their dog, but nobody asks me why I’m loitering there. I keep checking my watch. Caleb will need to leave soon if he doesn’t want to be late.
I hear a rumble and turn around. The garage is opening! Red and white lights glow as a black pickup truck reverses. I imagined possessing Caleb before he got into his car. I’m not sure I can do it as he’s driving away. I can try, but if I succeed and the vehicle keeps going, leaving my body behind…
I think of Ashley. The shape of her smile and the sound of her laughter. Then I imagine her beating her fists against Caleb’s chest as she tries to fend off sexual assault. It’s enough to make me step into the middle of the driveway. The truck doesn’t slow. If it hits me, that’ll put a stop to Caleb’s date. At least she’ll be safe. The brakes squeal as the bed of the truck nudges me hard enough that I stumble back. As I regain my balance, I hear the driver-side door open and slam shut again.
Caleb stops when he sees me. His hair is freshly styled. The T-shirt he wears is olive green and tight against his body, the collar squeezing a neck bulging with veins as he scowls. “What areyoudoing here?”
“I was out for a walk,” I say, moving toward him.
“Then keep walking.”
I do. I move right past him to his front lawn. Then I sit cross-legged on the grass while facing him. He looks completely baffled by this behavior. Who could blame him? My actions might seem random, but I need to be somewhere soft when I enter Phase Two. I don’t want to fall and hit my head on the concrete driveway.
“You’re such a freak,” Caleb says, flexing a fist.
“You have no idea,” I murmur, trying to sound like a badass, even though I got the line from a Disney movie. His reaction is lost on me as I make the leap from my body to his. With Ashley on my mind, the process is effortless. I stare at my true self through a different set of eyes, at the way I’ve jutted out my chin defiantly. For once, I don’t appear so weak. Time for Phase Two. I focus on making Caleb take a step forward.
Tight thin sock, loose shoe, ankle bending, wind tickling fine hairs on leg…
NOW WALK.
Pop! I have Caleb take a step just as my actual body begins to tilt forward. I laugh as my forehead gently makes contact with the grass. I look like I’m kowtowing to an ancient emperor. My amusement doesn’t last long. I need to get my body into the trunk before— Oh. Right. I turn around to consider the vehicle idling in the driveway. Which doesn’t have a trunk.
2002 Chevy S10 ZR2.
The impression isn’t helpful. To me it’s a black pickup with oversized tires. I could toss my body into the truck bed where it would surely slide around and attract attention. The cab is extended, potentially offering another option. I pat down the brown cargo shorts I’m wearing and find a wallet but no keys. I search the truck next and discover them hanging in the ignition. Duh. When I check the rear of the cab, I see a mostly empty space with a flip-down seat. I’m not a very big guy. Or at least Travis isn’t. I should have no problem fitting back there.
I look around on the way to retrieve my body, not seeing anyone outside or in the nearest windows. Good. This part is crucial. I can’t pretend I’m helping a drunk friend to my truck. We’re both teenagers, so that won’t fly. I guess I could say I’m taking him to the hospital, but I’d rather not explain myself at all. I scoop up my body, an arm beneath my legs, the other beneath my back, and carry it to the open truck door. That’s when I notice the stray french fries and crushed soda cups on the floor. I don’t have time to clean up.
“Sorry about this,” I say as I set myself down.
I spend the next five minutes rearranging my body, which is strange, because I can’t tell how comfortable it feels. I often sleep curled up into a ball, so that’s what I aim for. This makes me small and less likely to be noticed, but it’s still not enough. If Ashley glances back there, she’ll see what appears to be a lifeless body. Even I know that’s a bad idea on a date. Or ever. I need a blanket to cover myself with.
I check the garage first, and although I find plenty of tools and an abnormal amount of flattened cardboard boxes, there definitely isn’t a blanket. Inside, maybe? If I get caught, all anyone will see is Caleb. I’m nervous regardless as I step into the cool dark interior. The air is fresh compared to my apartment. No hint of stale smoke. I’m standing in a hallway. A small bathroom is to my right. Ahead of me I can see a breakfast bar, which probably separates the living room from the kitchen. I dart into the bathroom, figuring I can use towels instead, but it doesn’t have a tub or shower. Just a toilet and sink.
Bracing myself, I walk down the hall. As I reach the end of it, the silver cord tugs on me. Hard. I don’t dare take another step, but I’m close enough to see into the living room. An adult woman with curly brown hair is sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, attention on a tablet.
Mom.
That’s what I figured, but it’s good to have confirmation. I quickly come up with a plan, still nervous about drawing attention to myself. “Hey,” I try.
The woman looks up in surprise. “Caleb? Won’t you be late for your date?”
It’s not a date, I nearly tell her, but of course he thinks of it that way. So do I, to be honest. “I’m about to leave, but I need a blanket.”
She raises her eyebrows at this. “And what exactly will you be doing on this blanket?”
“We’re having a picnic,” I explain. It’s a great excuse. I feel proud of it. Momentarily, anyway.
“Why didn’t you mention this before? You don’t have any food with you.”
Oops. “Ashley is bringing it. She just texted and—”
