Page 11 of Switch!
Three more weeks. That’s when the school year ends. I just need to survive until then. If I can hone my skills over the summer, maybe I can overcome these limitations before I begin my senior year. In the meantime, I’ll keep spying on Caleb and his friends to avoid them.
I make it home sweaty and determined. I pour myself a glass of juice, empty ashtrays, open the apartment windows, and microwave some pizza bites. Then I fetch my notebook and sit on the couch to plot and scheme. I don’t get much of a start before I hear keys in the door, which is odd because it’s too early for my mother to be done with her shift. She’s a waitress and dependent enough on the income that she never takes off work, even when I have the flu. A dizzy spell at school is nothing compared to nonstop vomiting.
When the door opens, my confusion increases. My mother isn’t standing there. Instead it’s a man in his forties with a pencil-thin mustache. His brown hair is curly and thinning. He’s wearing a long-sleeve flannel shirt, his thin frame interrupted by a potbelly. Raymond. My mother’s boyfriend. I don’t understand what he’s doing here, so I ask.
“Your mother called and asked me to check in on you,” he says, shutting the door behind him.
I furrow my brow at this. “Since when do you have a key?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Raymond notices the open window and shuts it. He stops by the thermostat to turn on the air conditioner again. Then he takes a cigarette from the pack in his front pocket and lights it. “Want one?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t smoke.”
Raymond walks over and joins me on the couch. He nods at the open notebook. “What’s this?”
“Homework,” I lie.
He nods again, this time in approval. “You’re a good kid. I’m hoping we won’t have any issues.”
“Issues?”
“I’m not your father,” he continues, “but you need a man in your life. If you ever want advice, or someone to talk to about the sort of things you can’t share with your mother—stuff she wouldn’t understand—then I’m here for you.”
For one paranoid moment, I worry he’s read my notebook and knows my secret. But no. I’ve heard speeches like this before from my mom’s boyfriends. Usually when it starts getting serious. “Are you moving in?”
“I’ll be around a lot more,” Raymond answers vaguely. He sucks on his cigarette while staring at me. “Are you okay with that?”
I shrug. “Sure.” I’mnotokay with it but telling him that won’t change anything. Adults tend to do whatever they want, even when they seem to be asking permission.
“I paid the cable bill,” he says. “Everything should be working again. I bet you’re relieved, huh? A teenager without the internet…” He makes a jerking off motion with his hand and laughs. “You must be going crazy.”
I laugh too, but only to hide my discomfort. “It’ll help my grades,” I mumble, okay with how lame this sounds. Especially if it gets me out of the room. “I have a lot of finals coming up.”
“High school,” Raymond says, shaking his head ruefully. “I sure as hell don’t miss it!”
“Yeah,” I reply. “No kidding.”
“The ladies were pretty back then. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Not really.” I close the notebook and stand. “I better finish this essay. Thanks for stopping by. I feel fine now. Really.”
“No problem,” Raymond says. He grabs the remote for the television and leans back. “Like I said, I’m here for you. Don’t be scared to come talk to me.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He turns on the TV, intent on sticking around, it would seem. That’s not what I want, but I don’t really care as long as he leaves me alone. Now that I have internet access again, I have studying to do… and a war to prepare for.
— — —
Calculus the next day brings bad news. I can’t possess Elliot or Dean, no matter how hard I try. Probably because I hate them so much. They’ve made me too miserable over the years. So has Caleb. The only difference, as I stare at the back of his head, is I find myself drawn to him in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Whenever I’m inside his body, it feels good. My own has never given me a sense of security. I’ve always felt self-conscious. Guys are supposed to be strong. I’m undeniably weak. When I think of the way everyone cowered from me during the altercation in the hallway, how my gaze alone was enough to make them recoil in fear… I don’t want to become a monster, but I’d feel safer if I already happened to be one.
I also find Caleb attractive. I’ve done enough soul searching to be certain that I’m not into guys romantically. I wouldn’t be frightened to admit if I was, since people already make fun of me. I can tell when another guy is handsome though, which is something I’ve envied since middle school when a group of kids started calling me rat boy. I haven’t felt good about my appearance since then. It’s hard enough to approach girls when most of them don’t know you exist.
Being in Caleb’s body makes all of those problems go away. He’s good-looking and powerful, two things I am not. Elliot and Dean might be more athletic than me, but they aren’t nearly as big as Caleb, or as attractive, so they don’t have the same appeal.
While still seated at my desk, I slide down until my shoulders line up with the back of the chair. Then I let my body go slack. I’m not trying to possess anyone just yet. I need to find a sitting position that won’t embarrass me when I hit Phase Two. My head goes limp and my body lists to the side, so I try a few other positions, but none are stable enough. I finally have to settle for putting my arms on my desk and laying my head on them, like a grade school kid taking a nap. Mrs. Dewey won’t appreciate this behavior. I only need a minute. I slip out of my body, noticing how my soul—or whatever—automatically navigates around the two people seated between Caleb and me. Now that I’m calmer about this process, I’m noticing more subtleties like that. After feeling the impact that always accompanies me entering a physical body, I see the room through Caleb’s eyes. He’s watching the teacher write on the board. I need him to turn his head. I don’t have a pencil to focus on this time, so I think of the window to the left and make that my target. I’m unsure if it’ll work, but I release this doubt along with any other concerns. The window is all that matters. Glass marred by dried raindrops. A beam of sunlight cutting through its surface. A blue sky beyond filled with lazy white clouds.
LOOK AT IT.
