C
With a low sigh, I turn my head away from the screen and look out of the window. The world beyond the glass is beautiful—it snowed last night and now the garden is covered in a thick layer of white. It’s not supposed to last long, probably the only snow we’re getting this winter, but that doesn’t take away from the beauty, does it?
So then why do I feel so… Unsatisfied? Bored?
It’s only noon on a Saturday, and already I have no idea what I’m going to do with the rest of my day. I’d planned to relax today, when I did my homework yesterday on our school’s day off. I told myself that today, I was going to do no schoolwork at all, because I didn’t need to anymore. Nobody to impress. No pressure. Even beyond that, it would be obvious if Noel became too good at school too fast. I have to be careful, I kept telling myself all week.
An excuse, I’m sure, for this. Because this is what I’ve been missing all this time.
I don’t get it. I’ve only made it halfway through the third episode, and all I’m feeling is tired. Rotten. This isn’t accomplishing anything.
I even went for a run this morning, which was challenging with the weather and N’s out-of-shape body, but I did it. I took a long, hot shower. I ate a proper breakfast with freshly-pressed orange juice. I’m supposed to be in a great mood!
Turning my gaze back to the computer, I notice that I haven’t been paying attention for what has to have been at least five minutes.
This is pointless.
With a flick of the mouse, I pause the video and close the tab, then I lean back, rubbing my brow as I heave another sigh. For all my contemplations I never imagined relaxing would be the hardest part about this body swap. Everything else was so easy by comparison. I can convincingly act like Noel, I can talk to Amélie without feeling self-conscious… Okay, sitting in class and not putting up my hand when nobody’s willing to answer the teacher’s question is hard, but I can manage.
Not working is different. I suppose it only makes sense, seeing how this work ethic has been drilled into me for the last thirteen years without pause; by me more than anybody else. Working is a part of me now. Working is me. Now that I don’t have to do it anymore…
Is this a condition I can free myself from? Do I want to free myself from this? Is there any going back once I do? Will my grades slip if I slack off, just to see what it’s like?
Do I know what I’m asking for?
Maybe I should read?
Before the thought finishes materialising in my head, I get up from my chair and roll my wrists in an attempt to warm them up. Exercise is always a great way to focus yourself. A way to calm my thoughts and feel a little more fulfilled at the same time.
I do the push-ups deliberately, letting myself sink down slowly, holding the position at the bottom with only a finger’s breadth between my chest and the floor, before pushing myself up a little more quickly. I make it to five before pressure begins to mount in my head, eight before I bare my teeth with effort. I stop at ten. My body shakes as I get back to my feet, immediately rolling my wrists again, rotating my arms, and stretching my shoulders.
As the heat of exercise settles over my body, I head over to the bookshelf, and lean in to study the titles. Of course, I already know that there’s nothing here that really interests me. Children’s books I’ve already read because they used to be mine, fantasy books that seem boring, a few crime novels that look entirely untouched.
A thought flickers in my mind and I turn around, sitting back down in front of my computer. Maybe I should start getting into dark academia? Vivi reads that sometimes and she said it reminds her of me sometimes. I’m not quite sure what she means – the dark or the academia part of it, but she said I would like it. I never looked into it because I had so much to do already and already had my specific style of books I liked to read.
I go onto my go-to reading app and log in with my old data. I doubt N will have any problems with my using it, even if I end up spending a little of her money. She has enough to spare anyway.
A few clicks later, I’ve downloaded a new book and opened it on my desktop. Not ideal, I know, but N never had an e-reader and I’m desperate for something to focus me.
A story about a magical school. A snarky female lead, a golden-retriever male love interest. Of course the two hate each other. She spends the first three pages passionately telling him off for saving her life.
My knee bounces. With a frown, I force it still, then focus on the text again. A school in the void, interesting concept. A sort of lengthy introduction into the magic system—
What might N be doing right now? She and the girls went ice skating yesterday and when she called me late at night after getting home, she kept gushing about how much fun she had with them. It made me warm all over, hearing her so happy.
We’re going to meet tomorrow to study for the English exam next week. But today, I told her I was going to relax, and she seemed to be happy about my excitement at the idea.
I wish I could just call her now; she should be studying anyway. But what if she’s not? Would I be annoying to her? Would it seem like I’m trying to micromanage her? And even if she is, wouldn’t that be overeager?
For a moment, I’m six again, and sitting on a rock by the school parking lot, watching the other children wait for the bus that’s going to take us on a trip.
My throat goes tight and I have to take forceful, deep breaths to reassure myself that I can still breathe properly.
I’m not that girl. People like me now. I have friends. I’m good at school. I’m going to be—
What?
My friends don’t even know who I am right now.
Well, screw that, I have N.
I have N.
This is all I ever wanted.
And soon enough, this body, this identity, will have friends if I feel like it. Making friends is easy.
I haven’t even made it through the first chapter of this book yet. This is ridiculous.
With a shake of my head, I get up again. It’s late enough that I could get a snack, maybe that’ll help me. I could cook something? How would Amélie react to that? First I bring home my almost-estranged best friend, then spend Saturday noon in the kitchen preparing a three-course meal?
No, that’s too uncharacteristic for Noel.
My steps are almost noiseless as I make my way to the kitchen. My parents are out for the day running errands in town—they said as much yesterday. It’s just Jas and me right now, and I can’t see or hear him. He must be in his room. Or has he gone out to meet up with friends?
The noise of the fridge opening seems to reverberate through the entire house, and I hesitate briefly, waiting for… I don’t know what.
My fingers close lightly around a sweetened yoghurt. I haven’t really ever eaten these, but N likes them, so there are always some in the house. I haven’t even tried them yet; I always forgot with all the things I had keeping me busy.
There was so much to do that I didn’t really notice the absence of everything I used to do in my other body. But now that the initial stress of adapting to a new environment has worn off…
The yoghurt is cool and sweet against the inside of my mouth, and I let it linger for a few seconds before swallowing.
I suppose there’s no helping it. When I get back to my room I’ll start researching for my history project—I can still just not tell Thea about it. Or should I study my lines for the play instead? I already know so much of that, though.
The sound of a door opening upstairs makes me pause. So Jas is still here. Briefly, I feel the urge to hide, but it’s not like I really can. And it’s not like he’s going to come looking for me, anyway. Probably just coming downstairs to watch TV.
So I stay where I am, leaning against the counter, yoghurt in hand, eating with slow, deliberate motions. I listen to the sound of his steps as he comes down the stairs and into the living room, and then into the kitchen.
“Noel?” The voice is small and still seems to echo in the empty space of the kitchen.
I look up. “Yes?”
He’s standing by the door, his left hand holding on to the wooden frame, looking up at me with curious eyes.
“It snowed,” he says, but the usual grin is missing from his lips, as if he was worried about something.
I give a court nod, keeping up protocol. “Yes. Looks nice, doesn’t it?” Was that too much?
Jas perks just slightly, though his expression doesn’t change. “Can you help me build a snowman?”
For a moment, I’m going to say no. N was clear about this. She never really interacted with Jas if she could at all avoid it.
But then he seems to register my hesitation and adds, “None of my friends have time, and it hasn’t snowed in forever.”
My stomach ties into a knot and I remember all too vividly what it was like to be alone. The fear of it. And I know it’s not the same, because he has friends, but what would I have given for a big sister? A person to look up to, who understood me and protected me?
Before I can think better of it, I feel myself nodding. “Yeah, sure.” It’s not like I have anything better to do.
It’s like in class when I realise that somebody needs help. It’s less an instinct to help and more the knowledge that I have the power to change somebody’s day for the better, so wouldn’t that make me a bad person for not helping?
Jas seems taken aback for a moment, like he’s uncertain he understood correctly, but then a smile spreads over his face. “Great! I’ll go get dressed!” He runs off before I have the chance to say anything more.
When I’ve finished my yoghurt, I find him sitting by the shoe rack, fighting to put on his winter boots, already packed in his rain trousers and his warmest pullover.
He looks up when he sees me come closer, his eyes excited. “Hurry,” he urges me, “I’m almost ready!”
Of course, I’m still done before him. I only put on my coat, a scarf, and shoes before searching the glove box for a pair that fits my hands. I still have time to help him put on his winter coat because he struggles pulling up the zipper with how bulky all the layers of clothes are on him.
When I’m done, he clambers past me, pulling the door open, gloves in his free hand, hat already pressing down his dark curls.
The air outside smells cold and clean like it only ever does when snow has fallen, and I have to narrow my eyes to prevent the sunlight from blinding me. I’m still pulling the door shut behind me and Jas has already thrown himself into the snow, moving his outstretched arms up and down to create a snow angel. I want to imitate him, but I stop myself. There’s got to be a limit to this.
“Where would you like to build the snowman?” I ask, crouching next to him.
He looks up. “Over there!” he says, pointing at the edge of the driveway, where passers-by will see it despite the hedge around the front yard.
It’s not exactly hard. The snow sticks together pretty well and soon we have two big snowballs. Lifting the smaller onto the other is a different matter, though. I try to lift with my legs, but just getting the ball off the ground is tricky and I have to stabilise it by leaning against the other snowball to keep it from slipping back down. We do manage in the end, though, and then Jasper makes the head and I lift him on my back so he can stick on the carrot nose and button eyes.
I set him down afterwards, and am about to start my strategic retreat, the tip of my nose already numb, when a snowball hits me. I turn, only to find the next one flying at me, hitting me square in the chest.
Jas giggles.
“Are you sure this is a fight you want to pick?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. But I don’t mean it, of course. My chest grows fuzzy. I never really had any snowball fights. In kindergarten, the others wouldn’t let me participate, and N never really did that with me. Not that I ever displayed any interest in it. I’m sure Vivi would have had one with me, but the opportunity never came up.
Without thinking about it anymore, I drop into a crouch, turning sideways as a snowball hits my shoulder and chunks of snow slip down the back of my pullover.
“You!” I yell, hastily gathering snow in my cupped palms and throwing my first snowball at him.
It doesn’t even get close to hitting.
“You missed! You missed!” Jas cackles, jumping around excitedly before gathering up his next snowball.
We spend the next ten minutes jumping around the yard, throwing snowballs at each other, and I take my gloves off to be faster and more precise at making and throwing them.
Even though I’m definitely stronger than Jas, he’s a lot better than me at throwing. I laugh every time I get hit and even imitate his taunts a few times when he misses.
I realise only halfway through that I’ve forgotten all about schoolwork.
Afterwards, we lay in the snow next to each other, both our coats open to let some of the cool air in, our cheeks rosy and fingers throbbing hot from the cold.
“I wish it would snow more often,” Jas says then, still a little out of breath.
I give a low laugh. “Yeah, if only the right people could get their stuff together.”
“What do you mean?”
I shake my head. “Forget it.” He doesn’t have to put up with climate change yet and I won’t make him.
A natural pause ensues, where we both look up at the clouds wandering across the sky, and it feels like we’re the ones moving and not the clouds.
“You’ve changed, haven’t you?” Jasper asks suddenly.
My stomach drops. Has he already noticed? How much has he noticed? So much for keeping up appearances. So much for ‘it’s going to be fine’, so much for ‘I know what I’m doing’.
No, I remind myself. He hasn’t directly confronted me yet.
Forcing my voice steady, I shrug. “I guess so. People change all the time, don’t they?”
“But you don’t want Mum to notice.”
My face grows hot with discomfort. My thoughts are racing, but what can I even say at this point to convince him of the opposite? Sure, he’s a child, so I suppose nobody will really believe him, but won’t it be trouble if he calls me out in front of our parents?
“Don’t worry,” he says, and when I look over I find him smiling at me. “I won’t tell anybody. I like you better this way.”