Page 161 of Switch!

“You.”

So much for my plan. Caleb begins marching toward me, looking very much like a bull. “None of this is real!” he snarls, lifting the end of a pew as if it weighs nothing and flinging it toward me. The pew doesn’t go far. It slides a few yards forward, the people sitting on it continuing their sobbing as if nothing happened.

“This was your funeral,” I tell him. “Look how many people love you.”

“It isn’t real!” Caleb yells, striking a man sitting nearest the aisle with the back of his fist. The man’s head whips to the side and back again before he resumes sobbing.

I’m still inching backwards, but when Caleb breaks into a run, I turn and sprint toward the church doors. He catches me right before I reach them, yanking on the back of my shirt and spinning me around. I’m shoved against the doors, which don’t buckle or budge. They aren’t real either. They don’t lead anywhere… but they could.

“What happens if I kill you here?” Caleb is saying. “Will your soul die? Let’s find out!”

“If you kill me,” I splutter, “you’ll be trapped in my body forever.”

Caleb grins. “Totally worth it.”

He pulls back a fist. I conjure up another black box, right against this one, like I once did to reach Patrick. I will the doors behind my back to open and it works. I tumble through them, slipping out of Caleb’s grasp. We’re in Patrick’s childhood living room, which is still decorated for Christmas, snowflakes drifting by outside. I scramble to my feet and back away from the front door of the house, which is now connected to the church. Caleb steps through before I can manage to erase the entrance, but it gives me an idea. I’ll trap him in a separate black box. I’m not sure if that’ll work, or how long it will hold him, but I have to try.

“That’s right,” Caleb says, looking around in interest. “The black box can be anything you imagine. Where are we? Is this where my parents live now?”

“Yes,” I say, hoping to throw him off, or at least distract him.

It works. Caleb is more interested in the surroundings than in me. He walks to the mantle and picks up a framed photo. I don’t have a chance to change the image.

“Who are those clowns?” Caleb asks, holding up a photo of Patrick’s parents. He drops it carelessly. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you? Fine. My turn.”

He closes his eyes. The room around us dissolves, and when it reforms again, the space is much smaller. My stomach fills with fear. We’re in a familiar school bathroom. Two sinks, a couple of urinals, and three stalls. This is where he and his friends almost drowned me.

“Unfinished business,” Caleb says, his smile sickly sweet.

I turn and dart for the restroom door, but he’s too near. Caleb grabs the back of my neck and squeezes. The pain sure feels real! He swings me around, shoving me into the nearest stall. I struggle and try to fight back, but he kicks the back of my knees so I buckle and fall. My head is shoved toward the toilet, and I’m trying to visualize any other room but this one, too blinded by panic to come up with anything.

“If your little girlfriend hasn’t bled out yet,” Caleb hisses into my ear, “I might just keep her. I like the way she screams.”

He presses down on my head, plunging it into water that fills my lungs. This isn’t real. I try to summon the strength to resist, but this only makes him shove down harder. This isn’t real! Or is it? Maybe everything I experienced over the past few months was an oxygen-starved hallucination. I never went on a grand adventure. I never switched bodies. I’m just some stupid delusional kid on the brink of death, choking on toilet water. If that’s the case, I’d rather get back to the illusion and give myself a happy ending before I die.

Rather than alter the room, I change myself. I become a snake that slips through Caleb’s fingers and down the pipe. I can’t see where I’m going but it doesn’t matter. One way or another, this isn’t real, and I can use that to my advantage. I emerge from the neighboring sink and take human form again. I walk to the restroom door with eerie calmness, ready to summon another black box to escape into. Then I stop, knowing it won’t work. Caleb will simply make the box he’s in disappear or find a way through this one to mine. I need to be smarter than that.

“There you are!”

I turn around and see Caleb, but I’m no longer scared. If I can turn into a snake, I can turn into a ghost. I make myself insubstantial. Then I conjure up another black box to surround the one we’re in, and when Caleb charges, he passes right through me and out the restroom door. I follow him, already knowing what I’ll find. The same restroom. We’re both standing outside a stall, like we just left it.

I ignore Caleb and walk to the exit, which would have led to a school hallway in the real world. Not this one. I conjure up another black box around this one and repeat the same trick. When I walk through the door, it’s like I’ve just stepped out of the stall again. I repeat this ritual over and over, like Russian nesting dolls, each black box a copy that engulfs the previous. Caleb yells and swipes at me during this, but I don’t care. I’m untouchable now, emotionally and physically. He can no longer intimidate me. I choose not to be afraid. Once I’ve conjured up seven boxes, I decide it’s enough. I connect the final door to the very first box, creating an infinite loop, and pretend to step through it.

I open my eyes instead.

I’m in my true body again. And I’m in control!

My relief is short-lived. I’m crumpled up on the floor between beds. Maybe I rolled off the mattress. Or more likely, Jesse pushed me off so he could get to Trixie.

“No no no! Come on! Stay with me!”

Jesse sounds panicked. I push myself up to see what’s happening. Trixie is still lying on the bed, but she’s pale and unresponsive. Jesse has a pillowcase wrapped around one of her bleeding wrists and is gripping it tightly. When he sees me, he grabs the knife and points it in my direction.

“It’s okay!” I say, raising my hands. “It’s me, Jesse.”

The knife is shaking, but he doesn’t lower it. “How do I know?”

“You don’t. I have Caleb trapped in the black box for now, but you should be on guard. What’s going on with Trixie? Is she okay?”