Page 167 of Switch!

“What?”

“The paramedics managed to save me, didn’t they? I would have been fine, even if you hadn’t intervened.”

My mouth falls open before I respond. “You don’t know that! My soul is probably more resilient than yours, considering you didn’t even manage to stay conscious.”

“I was tired,” she teases. “I needed a nap.”

“Whatever.”

We’re grinning at each other before we remember to get serious.

“Music,” Trixie says, snapping her fingers. “I’ve got just the thing. Patrick has old heavy metal music he grew up with that’s—wait for it—on cassette tape!”

“No way!”

We squat in front of the stereo and squabble about how a tape deck is supposed to work, and all I can think of is how good it feels to hang out with her again. Once the wail of electric guitars fills the room, we grow somber. Trixie opens her arms with a worried expression, and I embrace her while wincing in anticipation. At least I won’t have to do any of the work this time, aside from gritting my teeth as ice shoots through my bloodstream. I forgot that she experiences the pain differently. I was braced for fire, but the cold still manages to sting like hell.

Soon we’re both on the floor, alternating between curling up into a ball and flailing around. Nothing helps. We have to wait for the pain to fade on its own. Once it does, I manage to stand, feeling taller than before, and adjust the glasses on my face before moving to turn off the music.

“We did it,” I say with a smile.

Trixie nods, looking as relieved as she brushes herself off. “These clothes are terrible,” she comments. “Hey! Tell me something, but make it a truth or a lie.”

“Caleb was a good person.”

“Excellent!” she says, grabbing her ears to wiggle them. “The tingle of deceit!”

I don’t test my own powers. I’m just happy to be in my rightful body again. It feels different than I remember, I guess because two other people have been making use of it, but I’m sure I’ll settle in nicely.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

I look up, surprised by the seriousness of Trixie’s tone. “What’s wrong?”

She gestures toward the couch, where we sit, and I can tell she has something important to say. “I keep having these crazy dreams about Caleb. What happened to him?”

“I trapped him in the black box. A bunch of them actually. Why?”

“Because in these dreams, I saw him smashing through walls. Tiled walls, like you’d find in a bathroom.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. Then I tell her what happened during our final battle.

“Do you think he can escape?” she asks when I’m finished.

“I’m not sure. I better do something before he does.”

We discuss options, and as always, she comes up with the perfect idea. We even call Patrick and consult with him. When I’m as confident as I’ll ever be, we move to the bedroom. I stretch out on the bed. Trixie sits next to me to keep watch. She’s holding an empty vase in her lap, which I can’t stop glancing at.

“It’s only if you come back as Caleb,” she says. “I’ll knock him out so you can resurface.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Then you better get it right!”

I groan. Then I close my eyes. Down into the black box I go. When I arrive, Trixie’s dreams have become reality. The bathroom tiles are smashed, the mirrors broken, and water is leaking everywhere from busted pipes. I walk through room after looping room to find him. When I do, Caleb is sprawled out on one of the stall floors, looking exhausted. He notices me but barely reacts.

“Are you real?” he asks.

“No,” I say, not wanting to upset him, “but I can still help you get out of here.”