Page 7 of Switch!
I’m not crazy. I really did manage to get inside Caleb’s head. Melvin’s too. This is only the beginning. Of what? I’m honestly not sure, but I can’t wait to find out!
— — —
For the remainder of the school day, I compare the two baffling experiences I’ve had and try to make sense of them. Melvin didn’t seem to remember being possessed. Neither did Caleb, or he would have thanked me with his fists. That I was still aware of my own body while inhabiting theirs implies some sort of projection. Or maybe this is what it feels like to read minds. No… It must be more than that. In both cases, I felt a physical body unlike my own. I was even able to turn Melvin’s head to look at myself, implying some sort of control.
That bothers me. Why couldn’t I get Caleb to budge an inch? What’s the difference between the two of them, besides the obvious? I need more data. I’m in sixth period when I try again. I choose the guy sitting directly in front of me and attempt to possess him. Nothing happens. I keep trying, putting real effort into it. All I succeed in doing is making myself nauseous. Figuring that it only works on some people, I try again on the bus with Melvin. No luck there either. I only end up woozy and frustrated. I’ve gone from proving to myself that I’m not crazy to not being able to recreate the experience at all. Maybe I get only one shot per day, like I drained too much of my new powers or something.
The apartment is empty when I return home. I find a note from my mom explaining that she has plans with Raymond for the night, along with instructions on how to reheat dinner. I’d enjoy the solitude more if the cable bill had been paid and I could go online to do more research. In desperation I flip through the old printed dictionary we have, looking up keywords, but it’s useless compared to the internet. My stomach is grumbling, so I microwave my dinner and watch an old DVD. The rest of the night is spent tossing and turning. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but I manage five hours and hope it’s enough to recharge my powers.
I’m careful when choosing where and how to spend my next attempt, in case it’s all I get today. I don’t try anything with Melvin on the bus ride to school. I don’t attempt to possess Caleb when he’s standing by the classroom door. Instead I wait until everyone is seated and working quietly on their Calculus assignments. Then I focus on Caleb, envying how strong and firm his shoulders are. I imagine Ashley throwing her arms around his thick neck—myneck—and it’s easy. I pour out of my body and rocket through a dark void to reach him. The next thing I know, I’m looking down at two large hands, a pencil held in one of them. My vision might be blurry, but I can see that he hasn’t solved many of the equations. I feel bored by this. No,hedoes! Like the fear I experienced yesterday, the emotion is his, not mine. What else can I do? Read his mind? I concentrate, but all I hear are the oddly muffled sounds of people working around me.
When I possessed Melvin, my senses were dampened too. I couldn’t see well or hear clearly until everything seemed to snap into place. That’s also when the paralysis stopped. If Iamprojecting myself somehow, maybe it’s a matter of getting aligned properly. I try to shift back and forth, like a foot wiggling deeper into a shoe, but with no success. It would help to know what exactly happens during this process. If I am indeed a wandering soul, shouldn’t I be able to feel that somehow? The metal poles of the desk are cold against Caleb’s knees, and I’m vaguely aware of my natural body at the back of the room, but I can’t find the part of me that made this leap. I’m no more aware of my soul now than in my daily routine.
I aim for something simpler and attempt to make Caleb’s hand clench around the pencil. Nothing. Just like yesterday, I can observe, but neither of us can get anything done. I feel frustration, both mine and his, so I decide to return to my body.
When I do, I’m leaning to the right and about to fall out of my chair. A broken pencil is in my clenched fist, the other half on the floor. So the physical commands I gave Calebweresuccessfully performed… by my own body. Huh. At least I learned something: Before I try to make anyone moon a teacher, I better make sure my own belt is on nice and tight.
— — —
I’m walking down the hall at the end of the day, carrying three books from the school library so I won’t spend another night cut off from useful information. The options were limited. The first book is about the history of folklore and superstition. The second focuses on unusual religious practices. The final is paranormal fiction, the blurb on the back mentioning demons and angels who can possess people, but I’m hoping it contains a grain of truth anyway. I’m staring at the cover on my way down the hall when a fist slams into it, knocking all three books to the ground.
I look up just in time to see Caleb. He shoves me, a foot catching one of my ankles from behind. I fall backwards to the floor, my elbows jarring with the impact. More pain is on the way, because Elliot and Dean flank their friend, all three of them grinning at me like lions who have just brought down a gazelle.
“You should look where you’re going,” Caleb says. He kicks one of the books and it goes skidding off into the crowd. A circle of students has gathered around us already, eager for a show. No teacher will notice me while I’m on the floor, but I’m too scared to stand up.
“Funny thing,” Caleb says, jerking a thumb to his left. “Elliot here says he saw you talking to Ashley after lunch. Is that true?”
I shake my head.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Elliot snarls.
“I think he is,” Caleb says. “Get up.”
“Why?” I manage to squeak out. I look around for help, but all I see are leering faces hungry for violence.
“Because I told you to,” Caleb growls. “Get up!”
I don’t move. If I do, I know he’ll punch me. At least down here, I can ball up and shield my head if they start kicking me.
“GET UP!” Caleb shouts.
He bends over and grabs me by the shirt, yanking me to my knees with a tearing sound. He keeps trying to pull me to my feet, my T-shirt ripping more, but I don’t cooperate. In fact, I’d rather be anywhere else right now. Or anyoneelse. I know it probably won’t work. I’ve already used my chance for the day, but I clench my eyes shut and try my best to escape. I don’t want to be inside this body when the punching begins.
My prayers are answered. Some intangible part of me slips free, slamming into him almost instantly, and I’m plunged into searing hot rage. Caleb’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. His left arm is pulled back, the hand a meaty fist, and I can feel how badly he wants to hit me. I try to make him release me and notice my own hand opening and closing near the floor. Caleb still has me by the shirt, my mouth a terrified grimace of anticipation. I look pathetic. I don’t understand how anyone can see me like this and still want to do me harm.
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” I hear Elliot complain. I can see him out of the corner of Caleb’s eye, looking between us incredulously. “Hit him!”
“Yeah, man!” Dean says from the other side of me. “Hit him!”
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” The chat begins with just a few students and grows louder as more take up the call, but to my ears it’s muffled and scratchy like the vinyl records my grandpa used to play.
“Leave him alone!” The voice is young and female. I don’t recognize it, but I’m grateful that not everyone in my school is so bloodthirsty.
“Hit him!” Elliot shouts. “Screw it. I’ll do it myself.”
He lifts a leg, like he intends to kick me in the face. I reallyreallydon’t want that to happen, so I gather all my willpower into a ball inside of myself and release it again with a single mental command.
LET GO OF ME!
