Page 10 of Switch!
What aboutmybody though? After a jolt of concern, I return to check on it and find myself slumped over to my left. The seats nearest me are empty, thank goodness. I probably moved when wanting to kiss the girl. I’m not gasping for air or anything. My eyes don’t sting from remaining open, so I must have kept blinking the whole time. That means my subconscious continued to take care of those basic functions, even while I was away. Excellent!
I leave the theater, but not the cinema. Once again, I wait in the lobby until I find someone else I wish I could be. I repeat the same experiment for two reasons: to see if I can exhaust this ability, and to find out if I have more luck reaching Phase Two with someone else. I possess three more bodies that night, but I never get past Phase One. I feel satisfied anyway when walking home. The more I practice, the sooner I can begin my crime-fighting career as… The Repossessor? The Silent Witness? Nope. I’m not feeling those either. I wonder how other superheroes choose their names. Most of them seem to tack “man” onto a loosely related word. Bat Man. Iron Man. Aqua Man. I guess I could be Soul Man. Wait, isn’t that a song? Eh… I’ll work on it.
— — —
I continue to obsess over my notes for the rest of the weekend, mentally revisiting the two occasions I transitioned from Phase One to Phase Two. What did the experiences have in common? Only when I write them out in excruciating detail do I find the answer, and it surprises me. Panic. In both instances when I reached Phase Two, I was freaking out. Is that the secret? I need to start with desire and end with fear? I’m willing to try anything, but I don’t know if I can make myself feel so afraid in most circumstances, especially a boring setting like the middle of class. I’m disheartened by my new theory, since it means I’ll only be able to achieve Phase Two in an emergency. Maybe that’s for the best. It’ll keep me honest. My life will mostly remain on the same course—no action-packed comic book adventures for me—but I won’t get beat up as much. Or at all, which is a nice condolence prize.
I’m walking to Calculus on Monday when I have an epiphany. I panicked before reaching Phase Two, and that brought my thoughts into a singular focus. When possessing someone, I’m usually distracted by the weird muted senses, the emotions of the host, or I’m worried about my natural body falling out of its seat or whatever.
Not so in an emergency. If someone was crossing the road and a car was about to hit them, they wouldn’t stand there pondering what they’ll have for dinner that night. Their mind would focus and urge their body to move to safety. Is that the key? Should I push Caleb into a busy street before possessing him? Worst case scenario, he ends up a pancake, and my biggest problem is solved.
The thought makes me laugh, but only because I picture it happening like in a cartoon. If I understand everything correctly, I shouldn’t need an emergency situation to make this happen. I decide to try again during class. Figuring this out feels more important than ever, considering how all three guys keep looking in my direction while loitering by the classroom door. I stare back, feeling brave, but I’m also relieved when the teacher finally shows up and the lesson begins.
After a worksheet is passed out, I slip into Caleb’s body and find myself staring down at the surface of his desk. Sharpened lead is touching paper, a number half-written on it, but the pencil is no longer moving. I intend to change that. I don’t try so hard this time. I dismiss all outward stimuli and ignore any concerns. The only thing that matters is the pencil. I let it dominate and then fill my thoughts. The entire world is reduced to a single wooden cylinder painted yellow and topped with an eraser.
NOW WRITE.
I hear a pop and the pencil moves in a random line across the paper. That’s no good, so instead I have it scribbleHow’s it going?in messy handwriting nothing like my own. I’m about to laugh gleefully when the rest of the class beats me to it. I glance around, confused, and notice that everyone else is looking toward the back of the room. Including Mrs. Dewey, the teacher.
“Mr. Anderson!” she says loudly before clapping her hands. “Wake up!”
I turn around and see myself. My body is hunched over, my forehead touching the desk, black hair spilling over the edge. How did that happen?
“Mr. Anderson!” the teacher shouts.
Time’s up! I better return. I’m about to when a thought surfaces in Caleb’s mind while we’re both looking at me.
After school today. Outside.
“Travis!”
I can’t stick around any longer. I release Caleb and rejoin my rightful body. When I sit upright, a long string of drool is hanging from my mouth, a puddle pooling on the desk. Everyone laughs. Except for Mrs. Dewey.
“Were you sleeping?” she asks, walking over to me.
I make a face, like I’m in pain. “I don’t know. I think I need to see the nurse.”
“Maybe you should!”
I gather my things. On the way out of the classroom, I can’t help notice the way Dean and Elliot exchange a look. They’re definitely planning something, and whatever it is involves me. Today. Outside the school.
Five ↔ Chapter
I need more time. There’s still so much to figure out. For instance, what happens to my body when I enter Phase Two? That faceplant on the desk… And the drool! Has anything similar happened before? I think back to the first time I entered Phase Two. That was on the bus. I managed to make Melvin turn his head and saw myself from the outside. My head was limp and my mouth hung open, like today in class. The only other time I entered that phase, I was on the hallway floor, limp as an overcooked noodle. I didn’t realize in either of those situations that I had lost control over my own body. Is that the price of doing business? I suppose it does make sense. In Phase One my attention is divided, and even though I’m not completely aware of my natural body, some part of me keeps it sitting upright. When my awareness moves completely to the host, I lose all control. Does that mean I’ll fall down if I attempt this while standing? What if I need to use the restroom and didn’t get the chance beforehand? Will I still have bladder control? Because Ireallydon’t want to wet myself while at school. Or ever, for that matter. I wasn’t gasping for breath in class today, so that implies my subconscious is still doing its job when it comes to the really important stuff.
“I spoke with your mother, Travis.”
I raise my head as the nurse reenters the exam room. I told her I felt lightheaded and passed out. She already checked my vitals, which are normal, so I claimed that I haven’t been sleeping well and asked to go home.
“She gave her consent,” the nurse continues, “but she can’t pick you up.”
“I’ll take an Uber,” I say, patting an empty pocket like I have a phone. I’m not old enough to use any of those ride-sharing services, but adults never seem to consider that.
“Okay,” the nurse says. “Let me write you a permission slip and you can get going.”
“Thanks.”
Before long I’m hurrying down the stretch of hallway I usually dread. It’s completely empty at the moment, which is why I asked to go home early. Whatever Caleb and his friends have planned for me, I don’t intend to make it easy for them. At least this way I have time to strategize my next move, but I feel increasingly disheartened as I begin the long walk home. If reaching Phase Two means my natural body becomes comatose, most of my superhero fantasies are ruined. I won’t be able to walk behind Caleb while making him do my bidding. I won’t be able to saunter out of a movie theater with a beautiful woman on my arm. Not without the silver cord yanking and potentially breaking. I’ll only be able to slip into people’s minds and look through their eyes from nearby. Big deal. I’m not even comforted by the thought of getting beat up less, because if I’d reacted a few seconds slower last week, I would have the shape of Elliot’s shoe imprinted on my face.
