Page 109 of Switch!

Trixie snorts. “Because you’d have instant access to girl parts?”

I can feel the blood rushing to my face. Luckily that’s not as easy to notice, thanks to Patrick’s dark complexion. “Yeah. It seems disrespectful.”

“And you’ve never taken an interest in what your male hosts are packing?”

I refuse to answer until a mother and her two children wander farther down the aisle, where they begin debating which cereal to buy. “That’s different,” I hiss. “Except for Jesse, I wasn’t interested in guys while in their bodies.”

“Chances are, once you’re in the body of a woman, you also won’t be interested in seeing her naked.”

She’s right! It depends entirely on my host’s preferences. “Fair enough. I’ll try next time.”

Trixie smiles and bites her bottom lip. “Or you can make your best friendsuperhappy by possessing her.”

I laugh. “Seriously? Why would you want me to do that?”

“To see what it feels like.”

“Okay. Why not?” I notice someone watching us. The older woman who was behind the register when we first walked in. She’s probably wondering if we’re going to buy anything or if we’re here to hang out. “Do you have black pepper?” I ask her. “The kind you grind?”

“Next aisle,” the woman snaps, expression still unfriendly.

“Can’t wait to sign up for your loyalty program,” I murmur under my breath as we walk in that direction. We stop by the produce section at the back of the store to grab some loose potatoes and a bag of carrots.

“Maybe we could swap bodies,” Trixie says. “I want to know what it’s like to be a man.”

“You mean what I did with Caleb? No way. You’d have to sever your silver cord!”

“I don’t think so. You swapped bodies with him andthentook off in his truck, remember? The cord only snapped once you got far enough away.”

“Huh. That’s true. Might be worth experimenting with.”

We’re standing in front of the spice section when I notice the woman staring at me again from the end of the aisle.

“Found it,” I tell her, grabbing a disposable pepper grinder off the shelf and holding it up so she can see. I even smile. The gesture isn’t returned. Instead she narrows her eyes. She only returns to her register so another customer can check out.

“What’s her deal?” I grumble. “She’s almost as bad as the guy at the hardware store.” We went there to buy a bucket to use as a drum, so I could accompany Trixie on something more substantial than a container of raisins, and an employee tailed usthe entire time.

“No idea,” Trixie says. “I’m used to being ignored, even when I want help.” She stops walking. “Oh.”

“What?”

She grimaces like bad news is on the way. “I don’t get the same level of customer service that white people do.”

“That sucks,” I reply. Then it clicks. “Wait, you’re saying that people are following us around because I’m black?”

Trixie shrugs sheepishly. “I have a black friend who told me that she always gets treated like a shoplifter. Which is dumb because she’s ridiculously straight-laced. I couldn’t even get her to take a sip of beer on my sixteenth birthday. A sip! She wouldn’t do it. Me? I’ve stolen all sorts of things.”

She’s not quiet when she says this, even though we’re approaching the register. The cashier doesn’t seem to hear. She’s peering solely at me. I squirm under her gaze as we check out and pay, feeling both confused and frustrated, because I haven’t done anything to deserve this. Patrick is no different from any of the other bodies I’ve inhabited. His skin is dark brown instead of beige. That’s it. Why should he be treated poorly because of a minor variation in pigmentation? I don’t have to delve deep into his memory to see that he’s experienced racism plenty of times before. The realization turns my stomach. How could anyone be so petty and cruel?

“Hold up,” Trixie says. “Let’s get some eggs for breakfast tomorrow.”

Before I can say anything, she runs to the back of the store. This leaves me alone with the cashier, whose nostrils are flaring like I disgust her. The feeling is mutual. By the time we leave the store, I’m angry instead of uncomfortable.

“What a bitch,” Trixie says. “We won’t be shoplifting there again.”

“That’s right! Wait… What?”

When I look over at Trixie, she’s waving a handful of protein bars in my face. “I was too hungry to wait, but don’t worry, I’ll still want dinner. Try the caramel crunch. Or the sour lemon tart. It’s not bad.”