impressed with her multitasking skills.
Except I was more anxious about what she was going to do. I watched uneasily while she punched a button and lifted the phone to her ear.
“Hey, Eli,” she said in a casual tone. “Yeah, it’s Hannah … I know, it is a surprise … actually, that’s why I’m calling.” The gun wiggled as she laughed. “She’s here with me, it’s a coincidence but we just ran into other … Calm down, she’s fine, but she’s having severe stage fright so I’m giving her a pep talk. She says for you to go ahead and she’ll join you soon.” Abruptly, Hannah hung up.
“All done,” she told me, smiling. I noticed that as she put her phone away, she hit the
“So now what?” I asked warily.
“The intervention begins.” She used the butt end of the gun to gesture to her beach bag. “We’ll start with our sixth-grade science trip.”
* * *
When she started pulling out scrapbooks and photo albums, I began to think Hannah’s bag was a bottomless pit. She had each of her many books organized with labels for the year and for the events. The blue album showed Hannah and Sharayah, age eleven, grinning as they paddled canoes and trudged on hikes at science camp. It was cute how they both wore pigtails and similar clothes, and even their poses were alike as they goofed for the camera.
Seeing them together made me think of Alyce and miss her more than ever. We’d never shared science camp (well, I’d gone, but even in elementary school Alyce shunned social events), but we did camp out once in a house that was rumored to be haunted. We hadn’t met any ghosts but we scared each other by telling stories all night.
Album by album, I went back down Sharayah’s memory lane. Sharayah and Hannah had been so close that I began to understand Hannah’s motivation in bringing me here. And her resourcefulness was amazing. I mean, the “closed” sign on the bathroom was brilliant. No one would come in to disturb us.
Including Eli.
My mind wandered while she pointed to a picture of a golden, long-haired puppy that Sharayah had given her as a birthday gift when she turned sixteen. But each minute we reminisced diminished my hopes of winning the
The body switch could happen soon.
Grammy had said that once it started, there was no stopping the process.
“Hannah, I’ve seen enough photos,” I said as I closed a book from third grade. “I appreciate all you’ve done, and it’s worked. This was exactly what I needed to get my head together. You’re a great friend.”
“That’s not what you said when you moved out of our dorm. You cut me off like I was a stranger,” she said with a sniff. “That was just cruel.”
“I’m really sorry. But I wasn’t myself — it was like I was possessed by a demon,” I added for dramatic effect. Sharayah probably wasn’t the dramatic type, but it always worked for me. “I was horrible, and you’re the best friend in the universe not to give up on me. I can never thank you enough.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Absolutely. I want to be friends again.”
“Oh, Shari, that’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Her whole demeanor changed and she lowered her hand — but still held on to the gun. “I was sure all I needed to do was get you to listen to me and remember the good times.”
“You were right,” I assured. “Your intervention was a success. Since we’re done here, I really need to get back to the contest.”
“Why?” She wrinkled her brow.
“To show the judges what an amazing voice I have. Don’t you want me to be a singing star?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Um … no.”
“Come off it, Shari. You’re the most private person I know. You’ve never sung in public! You’re always teasing Eli about his secret passion for karaoke. And you never, ever brag about having a good voice.”
“So singing isn’t my dream?” I asked.
“Duh. You can’t stand pop tarts like Britney. You want to be a doctor.” She frowned at me. “Maybe you really have been taken over by a demon. But I won’t give up on you. I still have three photo albums and the scrapbook for the secret club we made when we were in third grade.”
She eyed me suspiciously and lifted the Taser.
Then, with steely determination, she picked up yet another photo album.
While she turned pages and reminded me of a trip to Lake Tahoe and a wild ride on a snowmobile, my hands started to itch. The itch heated up into a strange warmth that spread through my arms. I glanced down and had to swallow a gasp when I saw my fingers glowing. And the rest of me felt weird, too. My thoughts swam in a fog and I felt numb all over, as if I was disconnecting from my body.
Sharayah’s body.
What time was it? I tried to ask Hannah, panicked when I couldn’t hear my voice. Sounds echoed all around me, as if I were being swept along a dark tunnel.
It was happening, I realized. What I’d wished for desperately, yet dreaded, too. I was leaving Sharayah and returning home. Only I wasn’t ready yet. I sent my thoughts out to Grammy, begging for more time because I hadn’t made Sharayah a star. I hadn’t said good-bye to Eli, either. It was all happening too fast, out of control, swirling dark colors mingling with a sense of rushing movement.
Then I felt myself stop.
A jolt as if I’d crashed into a wall.
And when I opened my eyes and looked around, I realized the “wall” wasn’t made of brick or concrete — it was made of flesh, blood, and curly brown hair.
I was Amber again.
24
“Amber! You’re awake!”
I glanced around, aware of so many things at once: the hospital bed I was in, the tube running from my arm to an IV pole, the half-open curtain letting in dim light from a cloudy day, and the crying woman staring down at me. After being in two different bodies within the past week, facing Dark Lifers and almost becoming the next Voice Choice star, I was me again. Average-looking, savvy, future entertainment agent Amber Borden.
“Mom?” I whispered, almost afraid to believe this was really happening.
My mother sobbed and rushed for the bed. Crying my name over and over (which was very cool to hear again!), she wrapped her arms gently around me, tears streaming down her cheeks and falling on my arm — an arm with faint scars from falling in nettles. Memories rushed back at me but this time they were my own: the screech of tires of a runaway mail truck, meeting Grammy Greta on the other side, waking up in the hospital in the wrong body.
But now, for the first time in weeks, I was in the right body.
And my mommy was hugging me.
Soon we were both crying.
It was like someone shook up a bottle of craziness, then popped open the cork. Everything blurred in a rush of joy and tears. Dad showed up, then nurses and doctors. Mom was like a bull charging up to the doctors, insisting
