4So I read the SKOW Challenge and just decided to go for it. Here goes nothing...
Challenge #15 - Reverse, Reverse!
Plot: I was just a regular kid, in a regular school, in a regular city, and in a regular family. Keyword there? Was. One day I wake up and something really weird happens. I wake up in someone else's body. Oh no, but that's not all. This body? It belonged to my crush. What now?
Requirements:
1) Must be in first-person narrative.
2) Body-switch must be explained somehow.
3) Main character is forced to kiss someone that they're not attracted to, but their crush (whose body they are inhabiting) is currently dating.
4) Fashion faux-pas on both sides (i.e. guy-in-girl's-body wearing a skirt that's scandalously skimpy, not knowing how to walk in heels; girl-in-guy's-body wearing shirts that are way too tight, or shorts that are way too short).
5) Must show reactions
6) Must have bodies switched for at least a week.
7) Interaction with the family.
Optional:
1) Showing the switch-back.
2) Rants from main character about how he/she doesn't understand the actions of his/her crush.
No:
1) Guys aren't all the same, girls. Girls aren't all the same, guys. Stay far, far away from heavily stereotypical behavior.
2) Point of views from the crush
I awoke that morning with a sudden craving for bacon.
Even before my eyes fluttered open, I felt my stomach grumble angrily, begging me to fill it with something, anything. I hadn't eaten much dinner the night before (grilled brussel sprouts aren't really my thing), but that morning a breakfast with the works sounded pretty good. Fantastic, really.
My alarm hadn't sounded yet, and so I decided to stay under my covers until it did. The chilly air of my room nipped at my face like ice picks, and I pulled the blankets up to my neck, burrowing into my bed as deep as I could for maximum warmth. It was early February and therefore absolutely freezing.
As my face lay against my pillow, I felt an itchy sensation all over the lower half of my face. It felt like the prickly stubble I got on my legs a day or two after shaving, but the thought of me, Molly Conrad, growing a beard was absolutely ridiculous.
"David, get up! You've got tutoring this morning!" called a voice from the other side of my bedroom door
David?
My eyes shot open to what could probably only be described as a shrine to the sport of soccer. I quickly sat up in the bed. Where was I? Posters of soccer players plastered the navy blue walls. Jerseys with black sharpie autographs were framed and hung lovingly throughout the room. Across from the bed, a large shelf high on the wall held a variety of small gold plastic trophies, each depicting a boy kicking a soccer ball. There were multiple other trophies on the floor which were obviously too big for the shelf, some stretching up to four feet tall. A small wooden desk held a backpack and various unorganized stacks of books and papers.
The door to the room opened suddenly, revealing a perfectly coiffed, slightly pudgy woman in a pinstriped business suit, high-tech cell phone in hand.
"David! Let's go! I'm leaving in fifteen minutes, whether you're in the car or not."
The door slammed shut. I quickly reached up to my face and ran my hand over the stubble that was growing there. What the hell was going on?
I stumbled out of bed and felt a shooting pain through my legs. My thigh and calf muscles were screaming, pulsing with every beat of my heart. My neck was as stiff as concrete, refusing to turn any direction I tried to make it go. I ignored the pain and tried to make my way to what looked like it could be a bathroom. It was the smaller door of the two in the room.
Nope, a closet.
I hurried to the door the woman had appeared at, opened it, and scanned the dark hallway. The sun wasn't up yet, and dim lights lit the pathway of the stairs leading down. I tried the door right beside the bedroom, and it opened up to a small bathroom, complete with sink, toilet, and shower. I flicked on the light, and stared at myself in the mirror.
Only it wasn't me staring back. The person looking back at me was none other than David Hart, soccer player for the nationally ranked Shortridge soccer team, junior at Shortridge High School, and, most importantly, the current object of my affections for the past year.
"Oh my god, this is not happening to me," I said softly, still not able to take my eyes off David. He was dreamy like that. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying not to freak out(which admittedly, any sane person would have done by now), but when I opened them, he was still there, those lovely brown eyes gazing back at me. My heart was thumping uncontrollably at the sight of him, er… well, me.
And then, somewhere inside of me, this huge internal scream let loose that would rival that of horror films. And that's essentially was this was: the plot of some straight-to-DVD B movie. I was stuck inside my crush's body. Godzilla would be crashing through the walls of the house any minute now.
"Ten minutes!" the business woman who I assumed was my mother called from downstairs. Shit.
I splashed my face with water, ran some of it through my hair, and dashed back into what I suppose was now my bedroom.
I then thought of my own body back in my own room, and the distinct possibility that David Hart might be inhabiting it at that very moment.
Oh my god. My room was nowhere near clean and I'm pretty sure I had a bra just lying on the floor somewhere for everyone to see.
This is so not happening to me.
I spotted a pile of freshly laundered clothes in a basket, all neatly pressed and folded, and grabbed a t-shirt proclaiming Abercrombie across the front. I remember seeing David wear this often, and so it seemed like a safe choice. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater for school, which was known for its less than comfortable temperatures.
As I pulled the long sleeved shirt David had worn to bed off his(and now my) body, a distinct smell hit my nose and made it crinkle in disgust. BO mixed with Abercrombie cologne. Gross…
As I put on the shirt, I couldn't help but notice the six-pack David had acquired after so many years of soccer. I smiled, almost embarrassed. Maybe this switch thing wasn't so bad. The shirt fit pretty snugly, almost too much so, but it wasn't uncomfortable so I left it on.
After hurriedly donning jeans and a sweatshirt, I grabbed the backpack off of the desk, shoved as many books as I could into it, and threw it over my shoulder. I saw a cell phone sitting plugged into a charger, and I grabbed that.
I rushed into the bathroom, looking for more cologne to cover up the BO. I found some Axe hidden behind some aftershave and sprayed it all over my upper half, coughing multiple times when the smell got to be too much.
"David!"
"I'm coming!" I yelled, running out the door and down the stairs. A coffee cup full of Cheerios and milk was sitting on the counter and my "mother" was rifling through her purse, looking for something. I grabbed the cereal and waited for her to move first, since I had no idea where the garage was located. The kitchen we stood in was extremely large, with counter space that my own mother would die for. It looked like it had all the latest technology in cookware and everything just glistened, not a speck of dirt to be seen.
"Mom" glanced up at me and frowned. "David, did you even brush your hair?" I reached up and ruffled it a bit with my hand. I had no idea what David even did to style it to make it look as great as it did every day.
"No," I mumbled.
"Well, we don't have time. I've got a case at 10:00. Let's go!" She grabbed her purse and click-clacked down the hallway, me following right behind, until we reached a white door that opened into the garage.
Driving to school, "Mom" rambled on about how I needed to be more careful when driving, and how I shouldn't have gotten in the car wreck, and how my insurance was going to go up a bunch. I just nodded at the right times, said "I know, Mom" every so often, and otherwise just drifted off and watched the scenery speed by, contemplating how all this could have happened.
Last night, there had been a Junior College Info Session at school where we got all this information about planning for college and what we needed to be doing in the next few months in order to prepare ourselves for the application process. That lasted until about nine o'clock, but the last thing I could remember was driving home on the dark icy roads. I vaguely remembered some really bright lights in the distance, someone who had forgotten to turn off their high beams. I had honked at them, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in David's room.
The car pulled up to the front of Shortridge High School and stopped. "Mom" wished me a good day and told me not to strain myself doing anything. Apparently, I had gotten the week off from soccer due to the accident, which was good to hear, because I had never been the most athletically coordinated person. I nodded, waved goodbye, and headed into school, ready for what was probably going to be the most abnormal day of my life.
David's phone vibrated in my pocket and a huge wave of fear crashed over me. What was I going to say? I could play it cool for only so long.
I fished out the phone with trembling fingers and looked at the screen:
~1 NEW TEXT~
Texting. I could handle that. I clicked the Read button and a message appeared on the screen from 729-2347. My number.
~Molly? Is that you?~
Under different circumstances, I would normally be squealing in delight at the fact that David Hart texted me, but this was a slightly different, if not terribly awkward situation.
~Yeah. Is this David?~ I texted back.
The response came within ten seconds.
~Yeah. We need to talk. Meet me by Kellerman's room in five minutes~
We both had Spanish together fifth period with Senor Kellerman, a class that often bored me out of my mind and reduced me to doodling comics in the margins of my notebook.
I hurried down the halls, just wanting to sort this all out and reduce any potential embarrassment that might stem from this situation. I kept my head ducked low, the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, and my eyes on the ground.
When I reached the classroom, my heart dropped into my stomach when I saw what David had dressed me in.
"What the hell are you wearing?" I hissed as I rushed over to him. My body was wearing an extremely tight tank-top with a jean jacket, a mini-skirt that my best friend Lacey had bought for me as a joke, and four inch stilettos that I had worn to my sister's wedding. My thick blonde hair looked fine, if not slightly unintentionally wavy from me sleeping on it.
"I could ask you the same question!" he said loudly. "Why is that shirt so tight? I look-" He stopped himself before saying anything, glancing around the area to make sure he wasn't offending anyone within hearing. There must have been someone he would have offended there, because he didn't finish his sentence.
I had to stop for a moment and take the situation in. Watching myself yell at me was definitely an out-of-body experience, literally. No doubt it was just as weird for David as well.
"C'mon," I said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards a hallway where people would least likely see us.
OOMPH! David took a tumble flat onto the ground, pulling me down with him.
"These things are a bitch to walk in," he muttered, adjusting the straps of the shoes he had on. At least he'd already mastered my clumsiness. I got up quickly and started walking away.
When we had found somewhere private to talk, I found myself almost at a loss for words. It had all seemed like a dream when I first woke up, but the sight of myself dressed like a hooker brought me back to reality.
"Okay, where did you find those clothes?" I demanded. "And why are you wearing them?" It was a good thing that I had no boobs to speak of, because if I did, they would be spilling out of that tank top. Thankfully, it looked like David was wearing a bra. I had to smile a little bit when I thought about how that probably went down, but then my face turned bright red at the thought of David Hart touching one of my bras.
He just glared at me. "First of all, these were the only things you had that looked normal. Second, your closet is a mess."
"Normal?" I asked in disbelief, looking him up and down. "Normal for who? Because that" I pointed to his ensemble "is definitely not normal for me."
"This is what Amber wears most days!" he protested, gesturing to the heels and skirt.
He had dressed my body according to what his sleazebag girlfriend wears.
"Look, David, I realize that being a boy is easy and all, with your selection of t-shirts and jeans, but girls have styles that reflect their personalities. And when people see me dressed like that, they're going to think something is up and they're going to ask questions. We both have to act normal until we figure out what the hell is going on."
"And what the hell is going on?"
"I don't know!" I said loudly. If anyone had been watching the conversation from afar, I imagine it would have been absolutely hysterical. Not just because of the subject matter, but because I had David's puberty changed voice and he had my smooth soprano that tended to squeak and go higher when I got excited, which was most of the time. I smiled at the thought and took a deep breath, attempting to deal with the situation as calmly as possible. "What do you remember from last night?"
He closed his eyes to think. "I was driving home from a killer soccer practice around 9:15. The roads were really slick…That's all I got."
"Well, your mom said that you were in an accident. I don't know what happened to your car."
"Yeah, that's what yours said too. I think your car was totaled."
"Great." Just what I needed. "What road were you driving on?" I asked.
"Ford heading West. You?"
"Worthington heading North. I was right by Ford." I had been only three minutes away from home. Michael Jackson had been playing on the radio. My sister had just texted me moments before asking where I was.
"Well then we probably crashed into each other, which would explain all of this," he said, gesturing to our bodies.
I stared at him. "Except it doesn't…In what alternate universe could a car crash possibly cause a body-switch? And how are we still alive?" It at least explained the neck pain.
"I don't know!" He said, putting his hands up as though they would stop the questions. "I just meant that's how I ended up in your body and you in mine. If it had been some other guy, you'd be inhabiting some random stranger's body right now."
"Well thanks, that makes me feel a lot better about the whole thing." He glared at me again, not amused. I decided to move away from that topic. "Okay, tomorrow, stick to t-shirts and jeans. No, on second thought, can I come over and pick out some outfits for you?" I shuddered to think what he would put together if I described my personal style to him.
"Whatever," he said, burying his head in his hands.
"Okay, you've got rehearsal after school. I'm in the school play."
As soon as he heard that, his head shot up to alert mode, his eyes wide with fear. "You're kidding," he begged.
"I wish," I said. The performance wasn't for a while, but neither of us knew when or even if we'd be able to switch back into our regular bodies. "And your mom said that because of the accident, you don't have to go to soccer for the week." He seemed to cheer up slightly at that.
David took a deep breath and stared at the wall, probably in more shock than I was. I sympathized. Being a girl was hard.
"Okay, so breakdown of my life," he said, looking me straight in the eye now. "No siblings. My parents are Patricia and Thomas but I call them Mom and Dad. My girlfriend is Amber Ball. My best friends are Jack Slater and Christian Woodruff. I call Christian Chris. My ID for food is in my wallet, which should be in the front pocket of my backpack. I only eat food from the Pizza line." He paused for a second, as if contemplating whether he really wanted to tell me some things. "I call Sarah "babe" sometimes, not too much though, or she'll think it's weird. If anyone comments on me not being myself, say it's because of the accident and you've got a new perspective on life or whatever. If you need money, let me know and I'll meet you and take money out of an ATM. You should get a car to drive from my parents within the next few days if mine's not fixed by then. Any questions?" I shook my head, trying to take it all in. "Good. Your turn."
"Well, my best friend is Lacey Childress, my parents are Debbie and Mark, I have four sisters-"
"There's more?" He asked in disbelief.
I nodded. "Two are in college right now. The younger two are Jamie and Michelle, in that order. I don't have a boyfriend. I never eat food from the pizza line, unless there's nothing else good available. I'm good friends with Miss Tatum the drama teacher and we talk often after school when I don't have drama rehearsal. The spring play is Twelfth Night. I'm Viola. We're still using our scripts, so you should be fine. If you need some tips, let me know. And for goodness' sake, don't just stand there and read it." He looked confused and I sighed. Athletes. "Put some emotion into it. Think about if you yourself were in that situation, how would you say it?"
"Wait, Twelfth Night as in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night?" I nodded and he paled. "I'm a Math and Science kind of guy. I can't do this."
"You don't have a choice! If I have to be lover boy to your girlfriend, even though I am a girl, then you can certainly tackle Shakespeare."
"You have to help me then," he said, a helpless look in his eyes. Who knew the Bard struck such fear into the hearts of mathematicians?
"Fine, whatever," I said, just glad he agreed to go through with it. Helping him would allow me to get a leg up on the role anyways. "Just let me get my bearings on this whole…" I gestured to my new body, searching for a word to describe the situation, "guy thing. Stubble sucks, by the way."
He cracked a grin. "You got that right."
A/N: No silly pickles, that's not the end! They have to be in each other's bodies for at least a week, so there will definitely be more chapters!
Let me know what you think!(That's right, that was a subtle attempt from me to get YOU to click the review button. Did it work?)
Have a good 4th of July for all you US of A-ers, and for those of you who aren't, have a good weekend!