Chapter Eight:

Meeting this stranger, who was in my body, at my own house, which he currently slept in, was odd and if I ever explained this to a stranger, I would definitely get a headache. When I contemplated telling my teachers, parents, and myself that I had temporarily switched bodies with a platinum blonde self-centered jock who spent more time measuring the size of his biceps than his SAT averages to the college list he had yet to devise, I wondered whether it would be my parents or my teachers or myself that would check me, as in Blake, into a mental institution. What would I tell the doctors?

"Hey, doc, but I really am not kidding. Ask this kid, Aiden, he was stuck in my body too!"

Rolling my eyes at the thought, I looked at myself standing at the doorstep to my own house. I motioned for him to open the door by pointing at the doorknob, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, open the door," I almost yelled.

"Right," He responded. His hand went into my pants pocket and shuffled around the inside until he pulled out a lone key.

"That used to be on a keychain,"

"I'm sorry, but I am not going to walk around with a bottle of mace, a small flashlight, and a multicolored pen on a keychain,"

"The mace is for your safety along with the flashlight and since when is it impractical to always have a pen? So what if it lights up?" I loved that pen.

"Your keychain cries loser, just like the rest of your persona."

"At least my body doesn't scream tool," I retorted. I then said, "This is immature. Let's just fix it."

My mother, thankfully, was not home. I followed my body up the stairs until we were both in my room. I almost suffered from a premature heart attack when I saw what he had done. Pieces of paper were all over the walls. The pieces of paper were of half naked men and woman. He had wasted so much paper. He, single-handedly, cut down a tree. The posters were barely taped to the walls, and he had print outs of exercises messily sitting on my desk, completely obliterating the filtering system I had.

"You destroyed my room,"

"Actually, I liberated it,"

"You can't liberate a room. You can only liberate a person,"

"I'm using personification, okay? I thought that you were a nerd and all. You should know what I was doing,"

"Sorry, but I don't understand dumb,"

"Like that didn't sound retarded," He crossed his arms and leant back in my desk chair.

There were pieces of tape all over the floor. I got up and began to collect the pieces until they were all sitting on the bottom of the trashcan.

"Let's clarify something here. Just because you are living my life does not mean you have to change it in order to suit your needs. I did not butcher your room or your face or anything that was-is-was-is-ugh-whatever yours," I tried to explain. I walked around the room and tore down every poster of a man with a six pack and woman clinging onto a man with a six pack.

"Let me sit on the computer chair. I need to look something up," I said. Aiden got up from the chair and sat on the bed. Wow, I was surprised he actually complied with something. Maybe that was like how he was in bed, a little bitch.

Impatiently Aiden sat on the bed, as I heard him swinging his feet and then clicking his tongue. There was nothing to look up. If I looked up body transformations, websites about evolution appeared. Looking anything up on the internet was stupid. As if I would find anything useful. Even if I did find any site referring to a body switch, the creator of the site was clearly insane. This clearly did not happen often or it would appear on the news or something. Looking up at the ceiling and biting my lower lip, I began to wonder whether or not I was going to be stuck in this body forever. Even though it was aesthetically pleasing, I was not him. I was not used to being this tall, or having such a face, or living such a life. All of my prior memories were of me in my old body. While I contemplated the severity of the situation, Mr. Bitches-a-lot was probably just bitching to himself about how his arms no longer 17" thick.

"You know this has happened in many movies," Aiden suddenly said, rubbing his head. Usually I never had such a dumbfounded expression spread across my face.

"Well, people say life is a movie, but I'd personally love to be in a book. They're not edited like movies."


"There really is no scientific explanation for this. I hope you know that. I am just going to guess that this, whatever it may be, will run through our bodies for some time and then, eventually, we will return to our former selves,"

"I refuse to accept the fact I have to be in this body for who knows how long. I already dealt with your life for too long. Going to all of these classes are killing me, along with blind dates," he started.

I jumped up and cried, "You went on that blind date?" My voice was booming. Wow. Okay. I did not know his voice could become so loud.

"I had to. Your mother has guilt tripping down to an art. That girl was so hideous that I almost puked upon contact."

"You know life is more than just looks?"

"I can worry about that after I'm forty."

"Wait," I suddenly started, "How are my classes killing you? It's only been a day,"

"Normal people don't take AP Physics and Chemistry back to back. By the way, your teacher is such a douche. What the hell is up with this spouse and marriage crap? As if I would know anything about the G-forces of a rollercoaster," Aiden started and then added quickly, "by the way, your fuck-buddy husband has the flu or some shit so I'm supposed to do all of this work by myself,"

I cursed out loud. How the hell could I pass my classes when the dumb ass was stuck in my body? Walking in circles around the room, I wondered what I could do in order to do well without going to the class myself.

"We will exchange homework. You give me your homework and I give you mine,"

"How about you do all of our homework because you seem fully capable about it while I try to fix you up?"

"No, if you fail, then I don't give a shit," I said in a matter-of-fact kind of tone.

"Then I'll fail you. I'm the one who physically has to be in your stupid classes,"

"Don't you mean my actual challenging classes?" I smirked.

"Wow, you think you're so funny," he said in a very sarcastic and loud voice. Hearing my voice out of my own body made me realize my tone was very distinctive.

"Fine," I agreed. He was totally right. I could not believe that a dumb ass outsmarted me just now.

This kid was unbelievable. It was obvious why he had become so vain, but his entire life revolved around vanity. I rolled my eyes as there was an awkward silence between the two of us. With the pouty expression he had on my face, I felt like I had to comfort him in some way, shape, or form. He did not deserve my sympathy though. It was like he was trying to imply that his life had suddenly become so much worse while I scored the hundred million jackpot! My life wasn't that bad. Sure, it was not fun-packed like an action movie, but I liked reading, and writing, and learning how everything in this universe worked. Sure, I had an obsessive-compulsive mother who had yet to discover I was gay, but it was not like this kid had the best life in the world. All he had going for him was money and looks, both of which faded with time, while my brain will not, unless I got like Alzheimer's or something.

I sat next to him, on the bed, and rubbed his back while saying, "This will pass,"

When he saw my sensitive side, he inched away from me and glared at me. "You screwed up my date, didn't you? You're so god damn lucky that you got to tap that fine ass I picked up for you,"

"Uh, no, we were civil,"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means he was gentleman and so was I,"

"So he paid for you? Will he ever call me again?"

"Why does it matter? From the way you act, it seems like you get a new man every weekend,"

His tone sounded annoyed when he said, "So you don't think he's going to call again?"

"I'm sure he will and I'm sure we'll figure this out. This is just out of the ordinary. There is no way this switch can scientifically happen, let alone remain permanent,"

He got up and walked to the door. Before he left, he mumbled, "This is depressing. I need to go." He slammed the door as he walked out of the room. Wow. He was not an immature bitch at all.

After Aiden left the room, I read the one new text message on my cell phone. It was from Cole asking how I was doing. With a smiling spread across my face, I answered.

(Author's Note: The story came back from the dead! Actually I just tend to reappear and disappear often. I have a lot of ideas down for this story so expect frequent updates. Review please! Show some love for our little heroes.)