Page 100 of Switch!

A jolt of panic hits me. What if someone else lives here, like a roommate?

“Hello?” I say after knocking.

No answer. I try to turn the knob again, just in case it tends to stick. No luck. I add it to my list of things to figure out. Next is the bathroom, which hasn’t changed since I saw it last, so I continue to the room at the end of the hall, which is just as dark as the rest of the apartment. The mattress is large and bare except for a fitted sheet. The comforter and pillows are on the living room couch, for some reason. I check the nightstands and dresser, not finding anything surprising, although I do put together another outfit and change into it, opting for warmer clothes since Patrick is still so thin.

“Okay,” I say, tightening my belt. “Let’s brighten this place up.”

I walk around the apartment, opening the blinds and cracking the windows to let in the mild weather. The skies are overcast, a storm blowing in. Wind whips through the rooms, freshening the air. The place isn’t in bad condition. Some dusting and vacuuming would be good. At the moment, I’m more interested in taking stock. The pantry is just as bare as the refrigerator. A utility closet reveals a stacked washer and dryer. I take the blankets from the couch and the sheets from the mattress and put them inside, so I’ll have a clean bed tonight. Then I systematically search the kitchen drawers, noticing one that’s stuffed full of mail. I start to rifle through it and quickly become overwhelmed.

I could use some help. And some company. Noticing the phone sitting on the counter not far away, I grab it, knowing exactly who I want to see the most.

— — —

“Ta-dah!” I say when opening the door. I spread my arms wide theatrically. “I’m a Time Lord. And I’ve regenerated!”

Trixie peers at me suspiciously, the reference apparently lost on her. “Twitch,” she says.

“Switch,” I answer, rolling my eyes. “Who else would answer the door like that?”

“There’s no sense in having a secret phrase if we never use it,” she retorts. Then she lunges forward and hugs me. “I thought you’d never get out of jail!”

“It wasn’t jail,” I laugh while hugging her back. “Although it did feel that way at times.”

“For me too,” Trixie takes a step back and smiles up at me. “I was so worried. Jesse wouldn’t tell me what happened. Not at first. He was testing me.”

“He believes us now,” I say. “That’s who gave me a ride here. Come on in.”

When I shut the door behind her, I expect Trixie to be looking around the apartment. Instead she’s sizing me up. “How does it feel?”

“Not bad,” I say. “Almost like having my own body again because, well… I have so much to tell you!”

We move to the couch. Jesse already told her about the night we met Patrick, so I fill her in on the rest. At the end of my story, I expect a barrage of questions. She only has one.

“Do you want to order a pizza?”

I laugh in disbelief. “That’s it? After everything I’ve told you, all you can think about is food?”

“I’m starving! We can talk while waiting for it to show up. So… Pizza?”

“I don’t know if I have any money,” I admit.

“I have enough,” Trixie says, pulling out a billfold attached to a chain. She double-checks the contents. “Yup!”

We find a place by searching on her phone, agree on what we want, and place our order.

“What’s the plan?” Trixie asks while settling on the couch again. “Are we still trying to find a way to help Caleb?”

That doesn’t seem as important to me as it once did. I have more immediate problems. “We will, but first I need to figure out my current situation. I’m not sure we have enough resources to get to Cheyenne.”

“We should snoop and find out,” Trixie says. “Have you checked his computer yet?”

“Nope. Before you got here, I was going through his snail mail.”

“You keep doing that, I’ll start hacking.” She grabs the laptop from the coffee table. “Umm… Do you know his password? I can’t actually hack.”

I laugh, the answer swimming to the surface. “Janeway4Ever,” I say. “No spaces, capital J and E with a numeral four in the middle.”

“Got it,” she says, plopping down on the couch. “Star Wars is better though.”