Page 13 of Switch!
“You guys got him? Awesome!”
Elliot’s voice. Now it’s three against one. I need to even the odds. I close my eyes, but my concentration is broken when Caleb changes tactics and grabs my legs instead. He pulls and I topple over, barely putting my hands out in time to break my fall. My head hits the edge of the toilet anyway. The world goes black. When light returns, I’m still trapped in my own body, except now someone is pinning my ankles together and the world is titling. Caleb is right next to me, holding on to my waist. At least I think it’s him. I can’t see much before my head is shoved into the toilet bowl, the foul scent making my nostril flare just as my face plunges past the surface of the water. I don’t have the foresight to hold my breath. My forehead smacks painfully into the bottom of the porcelain bowl, a disgusting taste filling my mouth before I can close it. I try to wriggle free, pounding my fists against the toilet’s edge and swinging my arms in the hopes of hitting someone, but it’s useless. They’re going to kill me. I’m going to drown in old piss. My mind is too panicked to do anything useful. I can’t possess anyone. I’m trying, but much like my arms, my mind flails around without finding a target.
The hands finally release me. All of them. I smack onto the floor, the weight of my body pulling my head free as I suck in air. Adrenaline makes me roll over and scramble away from my attackers. I press myself into the corner between toilet and stall. I’d get up and run if three jackasses didn’t block my only escape route. Dean and Elliot are laughing. Caleb still looks furious, from what I can see through my stinging eyes.
I’m angry. The emotion begins deep within me, a searing hot pinprick in a cauldron of fear that intensifies until my insides are boiling. There isn’t room left for anything but rage, so I move out of my body, shooting straight into Caleb. I feel his anger too, small and impotent compared to mine. My fury dominates it into submission. Phase Two comes without effort as I focus on a singular need. Revenge. I feel the power of Caleb’s body as his hands clench into fists at my command. I make him swing around and punch Dean in the mouth. His head whips back with a crack, blood pouring from his split lip a second later.
“I’m sick of hearing that stupid laugh,” I make Caleb growl.
Dean covers his mouth with both hands, eyes wide with disbelief and fear, but I’m not satisfied. I punch him again. And again. I keep hitting him until he falls backward, revealing Elliot, who seems frozen in place. A primal shout escapes from my throat, the single booming syllable meaningless, but it’s enough to send Elliot scurrying backward. I follow him out of the stall, grabbing one of his crutches and tossing it aside. Elliot starts hopping before he shrieks and falls on the ground. I guess his ankle still hurts. I walk over to him and stomp on it. Repeatedly. The plastic of the brace has already cracked. I wonder if the rest of him will too.
“Stop it!” I feel Dean pull on me, and when I spin around in response, he lets go and presses himself against the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Blood has mixed with slobber to drip down his face. The unpleasant sight is enough to yank me back from the brink. I still want to hurt them, but if I lose control more than I already have, I might kill somebody.
“Get out of here!” I roar.
Dean is still pressed against the wall and shaking visibly.
“Both of you!” I shout.
That does the trick. Dean scurries to help Elliot, who is bawling. Part of me feels sick. The rest wants to see more blood. I’m not sure which feelings belong to Caleb and which are mine. We’re too mixed up in each other. I watch Dean and Elliot flee the room. Then I turn around and see myself in the mirror. My massive chest is heaving, my hair in disarray. I walk over to the counter and lean against it to stare into unfamiliar eyes. Caleb’s are green. I’ve never noticed that before. Maybe because he’s always glaring at me. I take a step back, fascinated by each movement of my body. How simply raising my hand to look at it is enough to make my bicep bulge.
I spin around when I hear the restroom door open again. Some random freshman walks in. All I have to do is scowl to make him flee. I like that. I don’t ever want to be weak again. But I am. This isn’t my body. The real me is in the nearest stall and might be choking to death, if I failed to clear my airway before I switched. I walk over to check and find myself crumpled up on the floor. I look pathetic. I don’t want to change back. How would I survive? As soon as Caleb is in control again, he’ll make me pay. I slam the butt of my fist against the stall to remind myself of his strength, the metal reverberating with the force. He’ll murder me. Unless…
I move back to the sink and look in the mirror. Then I make a fist and punch myself in the face. Or try to. It doesn’t work. The fist comes close, but it stops just before hitting me, my insides filling with aversion. Interesting. I turn to the stall wall and grab on to the top. Then I swing my head forward, intending to knock Caleb out, but the same thing happens. Instinct fights against me and his head never makes contact with the stall. I can gently press my forehead against it, which I do, the metal cool against the heat of my skin. But when I attempt another headbutt, I don’t succeed. I can’t hurt him. I’m not even sure I want to, now that my anger has given way to curiosity.
What else can I do? Turn myself in? Yeah! I’ll make Caleb march down the hall to the exit where the police officer is usually stationed outside and lead him back here. Caleb’s confession and the sight of my body on the floor should be enough to get all three guys suspended.
The hall is nearly empty when I step into it, but I don’t make it far. I feel the silver cord restraining me. I won’t reach the exit without risking my life. I turn around and return to the restroom. The first thing I do is check on myself. Travis is still breathing. I mean me. I shake my head, feeling confused. That’smesitting on the floor, hair dripping wet with barely diluted urine. I don’t want to switch back and experience what that feels like. I reach for Travis to pick him up. He doesn’t weigh a thing, but he’s unwieldy as I carry him to the sinks. I set him on the counter, careful when leaning him against the mirror, his backpack acting as padding between him and the hard surface. I grab paper towels, soak them with water, and start dabbing at his face and hair. He lost his glasses somewhere. I’ll have to find them. Red welts are starting to swell on his forehead, probably from when I… Caleb. From when Caleb shoved his head,myhead…
I stop my work to pinch the bridge of my nose. This is confusing. The longer I stay in Caleb’s body, the more blurred the lines between him and me become. I need to hurry. I cup my hands and fill them with water from the sink. I pour this over Travis’s head, one handful after another, figuring it’s better to wash it all off. Then I return to the stall and find my missing glasses in the toilet. I make Caleb shove his hand inside to grab them, and even though he resists, the revulsion isn’t strong enough to stop me. After rinsing the glasses in the sink, I dry them using my shirt and place them on Travis’s face. Then I step back, debating how to do this. The plan I come up with isn’t perfect, but it’s the best I’ve got. I make Caleb take off his socks and shoes. I shove these deep into the trashcan. Then I walk to the farthest stall, lock it, and sit on the toilet seat. After reconsidering, I stand again and undo his pants. I’m hoping to discover that all of Caleb’s rage is him compensating for something, but it looks big, and I can only assume it gets bigger. Some guys have all the luck. Whatever. I’m not interested. I just want one more obstacle for him to overcome before he can chase after me. Even if he leaves his pants down around his ankles, I’ll still be faster.
I make Caleb sit and close his eyes. Then I switch back.
The second my eyes open, I hop off the counter and sprint from the room. I don’t look back. Even once I’m outside the building. My bus is gone, so I keep running until I reach the nearest neighborhood. Only then do I glance over my shoulder. When I see no sign of pursuit, I stop and try to catch my breath. I’d laugh if my head didn’t hurt. And my mouth tasted better. Yuck. But hey, I survived. Barely.
I dig a piece of gum out of my backpack, wondering if they’ll finally leave me alone, or if they’ll come after me twice as hard. I wish I knew. I’m freaking scared, but who can I talk to about this? How could I possibly begin to explain these events? I can’t be the only one. Caleb must be questioning his sanity. If not, his friends sure will.
Even though my body aches all over and I still feel like retching, I manage a smile. The terrible condition I’m in is worth it, because I finally ruined his life as much as he always ruins mine. I only wish that revenge tasted sweet. Shoving a couple more pieces of spearmint gum into my mouth, I begin the walk home, silently daring anyone to mess with me.
Six ↔ Chapter
The first thing I do when I get home is take a shower. The bump on my head is throbbing and my stomach still aches, but after wiping steam off the mirror, I’m concerned most about the welt on my forehead. That must have happened when my head smacked into the edge of the toilet… while they were trying to drown me.
I get a little shaky thinking about that. No matter what they intended, Caleb and his friends could have killed me. And yet I still feel guilty when remembering the violence I unleashed in response. I could have—andshouldhave—held back. Then again, the circumstances were extreme, and once I possessed Caleb, I wasn’t entirely myself.
Brushing my hair over the unsightly welt to hide it, I rush to my room, shut the door, and grab my notebook, intent on writing down everything that happened while the experience is still fresh in my mind. What did I learn? There might be consequences for staying in a body too long. Caleb isn’t as defenseless as I thought. His personality asserted itself multiple times, like when I couldn’t make him punch himself, or when he resisted reaching into the toilet. I’ve heard that hypnotists can’t make people do anything against their will. This might be the same. If so, Caleb must have been willing to beat the crap out of his friends. He sure didn’t resist my commands then.
I remember stomping on Elliot’s injured ankle and feel uneasy. He was already down on the floor and wasn’t an immediate threat, but I did it anyway. Repeatedly. Was that my desire, or some part of Caleb instead?
Maybe we both wanted it.
I hear the front door open and glance at the clock. I didn’t realize how late it was. I hurry to my closet and dig around for a baseball cap, which I pull down over my forehead to hide my injuries. Then I leave the room and greet my mom, who is too distracted to notice anything unusual about my appearance. That’s good. I pretend that my day was fine, which I’m skilled at thanks to all the practice I’ve had. When she tells me that Raymond is coming over for dinner, I promise to make myself scarce. She surprises me with her response.
“Don’t be silly. I’m making dinner for all three of us. When’s the last time we had a nice family meal? Try to make an effort. For me. Okay, honey?”
Raymond counts as family now? No other guy has reached this status since Dad. I’m not sure how I feel about that. When Raymond arrives at the apartment, I make small talk to appease my mother. Everything is going well until we’re seated at the table.
“Take off your hat, honey,” she says.
