Page 85 of Switch!

“Well, if you were ever going to get it, now would be the time.” She gestures at the parking lot. “You know, when his family and friends are busy elsewhere.”

I turn an incredulous expression on her. “You want me to break into the McCains’ house while they’re burying their son?”

Trixie shrugs. “Only if they don’t have a spare key hidden somewhere.”

They do. My hand is already reaching for the ignition. Looks like I’ll be returning home again after all!

— — —

When we pull up to the house where I used to live, I park in the driveway and reach for the sun visor the garage door opener is clipped to. Or would have been if I still had Caleb’s truck. Force of habit. I’m nervous as Trixie and I get out of the car. It’s Sunday, and while the neighborhood is a quiet one, more people will be around than on a weekday.

“What are we looking for?” Trixie asks as she stretches. “A fake rock?”

I look over at her in surprise. “How’d you know?”

She snorts. “I didn’t. A fake rock is an absolute classic. It’s either that or—”

“Under the welcome mat?”

“Yup!”

There’s no key out front. The McCains aren’t that careless. We have to go around to the backyard, which will appear suspicious if anyone sees us. The chain-link fence is only waist-high. The same with the neighboring yards. We’re completely exposed as I open the gate and lead the way to the patio that Major McCain and I built together. Next to the three steps leading up from the yard is the rock.

“I would have accepted ‘under a potted plant’ as a valid answer too,” Trixie says. She turns to consider the house. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” I say, eager to get inside.

I try not to glance around suspiciously as I reach the door and notice Trixie doing exactly that. “See anyone?” I murmur.

“Nope.”

The lock clicks. I slide open the door and get a whiff of air that smells intimately familiar.

“Feels like we’re robbing the place,” Trixie whispers as she slides the door shut behind us.

“Technically we are. Did I mention that Caleb’s dad is a military man? The kind who owns guns?”

“Better not waste time then.”

She doesn’t follow her own advice. Or my lead, for that matter. I’m halfway down the hall to my room when I notice she’s not behind me. I turn and find Trixie still standing in the living room, bent over a framed family photo. I wasn’t present when it was taken, but Caleb was. He’s front and center with his parents standing behind him.

“Sorry,” Trixie says when she notices my exasperation. “I wanted to see what you used to look like. Not bad, for a caveman.”

“Ha! Do you want to see the real me?”

“You mean like your original body?” Trixie perks up. “Do you have a photo?”

“With my notebook, yeah.”

This gets her moving. Soon we’re in my old bedroom, and even I forget the need for urgency. We stand there together while surveying it all. Nothing has changed. My bed is still unmade from when I last slept in it. The only difference I notice is that the blinds have been raised to let in the light, making the trophies glow in the sun.

“How’s it feel?” Trixie asks.

“Weird,” I admit. “It never really felt like my room, but I miss it anyway.”

“How come?”

I shrug. “Maybe because I still had my independence. I wasn’t sharing a body. I felt freer than I had for most of my life.” I blink and shake my head. “Let’s get out of here.”