N
“Okay, everybody set? You may turn the exam papers around now.”
My fingers are unsteady as I lift the edge of the three pages that lay stapled together on my desk, and flip them over. In the final exams, we’re going to get three separate exams, so that we can choose whichever suits us best.
Today, we don’t get the choice. Over the past weeks, we’ve been discussing poetry, so the test will first ask us to analyse a poem and then compare it to another one. I used to intensely dislike poetry analysis, but I’ve been studying for this. For hours. On my own and together with C. I memorised so much stuff, read C’s notes again and again, it’s got to be enough, right?
This is the first real test for me. Can I truly become Chloe? Am I able to pull this off?
C said it doesn’t really matter that much. She has a perfect grade so far, so a single mediocre grade won’t make much of a difference. But of course, I’m more ambitious than that. If she ever ends up wanting to switch back, which I still expect, somehow, I don’t want to be the reason she’s gonna have a hard time. And anyway, I don’t want to half-ass this.
Briefly, I close my eyes and take several deep, measured breaths as pens click around me and paper rustles. We have a lot of time. Three hours to analyse a poem and make a comparison should be plenty, right? We never took that long in class.
Readjusting my posture for the final time, I open my eyes and look down at the page.
Please analyse Alice Meynell’s ‘To the Beloved’ in regards to its use of symbolism and other rhetoric devices in order to portray the romantic relationship between the lyrical I and thou.
Briefly outline the romantic relationship described in Elizabeth Barret Browning’s ‘Sonnet V’ and compare it to that in ‘To the Beloved’
Below, I find the first poem.
Oh, not more subtly silence strays
Amongst the winds, between the voices,
Mingling alike with pensive lays,
And with the music that rejoices,
Than thou art present in my days.
…
I get to taking notes immediately. I suppose one upside to poetry is that you don’t have to spend forty minutes reading the object of the analysis for the first time before you can start thinking about it. Metre and rhyme scheme first — simple enough, everything regular, that was expected. Then I start looking for rhetorical devices, hunting the actual meaning of the poem. It’s a little tricky as I’m not really used to the language of the Victorian era, but by the time I’m done with the formal analysis of the poem and start the actual analysis, I think I have a pretty good grasp on what’s going on.
By the time our teacher gathers up the exam papers, my right hand is sweaty and sore. My forearm feels like it’s constantly cramping, my shoulders are stiff, and I have a slight headache. Even so, I stand tall as I get up and put my pens away, taking a final, deep sip from my water bottle to empty it. I think I did well. Probably still not as well as Chloe does usually, but maybe not much worse, either? At the edge of my mind, there’s a vague hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll get an A if not an A+ for this.
Vivienne grins at me from the desk in front of mine, also getting up and stretching like a cat in the sun. “That was nice, wasn’t it?” she asks, stifling a yawn.
I shrug lightly. Chloe isn’t the kind of person that makes light of exams; she’s too respectful for that. “The poem was cool.”
I can definitely see how people might find reading poems such as this romantic. There’s an aesthetic to these carefully crafted words that feels too elaborate to be cliché. Like genuine love.
Vivi nods emphatically. “Browning was a little too pick-me for my taste, but the first one was really pretty. I might have to put it on my mood board.” She winks.
Vivi does not have a mood board, but she likes to poke fun at people who do — even though C told me that she ‘secretly’ admires people who do.
“And then when I fall irreversibly in love, I will come to that person’s house, throw stones at their window to get their attention and then recite it to them in the moonlight.” Dramatically, she puts a hand to her chest and tosses her hair.
“Yeah,” I say drily. “Your prince charming will surely appreciate having his beauty sleep interrupted.” I can imagine it, actually. Vivi, standing in some front yard, reciting the poem with fervour, and some bleary-eyed dude peering down at her from his window, hair dishevelled and abs on display. The image makes me chuckle.
When I look up again, I find Vivi watching me, a strangely neutral expression on her face. But she quickly catches herself as our eyes meet, and raises an eyebrow, smirking. “What makes you think it’s going to be a prince? As if a man could ever appreciate the true romantic I am!”
It’s not the first time she’s joked about being queer, not even this week. And still, it leaves me with a vague uncertainty that I can’t quite place.
Shouldering her bag, Vivi hesitates. “What are you doing now?”
I pick my bag up as well, looking around the classroom. C is getting up and for a split second, our eyes meet. It’s not like we’ve been going to great lengths to keep it a secret that we’re hanging out, but for now we’re trying to make it appear low-key.
“Going home?” I say hesitantly. “Why?”
She shrugs. “We haven’t really done anything together yet this year. I thought we could celebrate by going out to eat dinner? You could go home and take a nap and we could meet later if you’re feeling better then?” She pauses uncertainly before adding, “Of course, I get it if you just wanna take it slow today.”
Something twists in my chest with guilt. I’ve been deliberately avoiding being alone with just her since C and I swapped bodies. Of course, I know that I can’t go on like that forever, but for now, as I’m still settling into my new body and identity, I’m worried she could notice something if it’s just the two of us in a room for several hours.
Should I agree, now that she’s pointing out my avoidance of her? Do I have a choice at this point?
So I give my best bright Chloe-smile, and nod. “Yes, I’d like that.”
Vivi’s face lights up in reply. “Great! Then I’ll see you later. Should I come pick you up at seven?”
Huh. Almost like we’re going on a date. I give an enthusiastic nod. “Yes, please! Are we going fancy?”
“Whichever you prefer.” Vivi winks. “You are supposed to sleep beforehand. But if you wanna go someplace fancy, I suggest we dress the part.”
I shrug innocently. Yes, I am definitely tired, but then I haven’t had the opportunity to properly dress up yet. Just the thought of throwing on an evening gown, a fancy make-up look, my best jewellery and some heels… or is that kind of fancy too fancy even for the restaurants Vivi had in mind? She also has pretty rich parents, but, of course, that doesn’t mean that she’s willing to spend that money.
My face goes warm, and my lips curl into a shy smile. “I think I like the idea of dressing nice.”
She hums thoughtfully, her eyes meeting mine with that familiar silent laughter. “I’ll make some reservations, madam, and then I’ll text you when I leave at home, so you know when to be ready, okay?”
“Okay!”
She waves as she turns away and leaves the classroom.
I turn as well, eyes searching for C, only to fall upon Jason, standing a mere pace away, grinning his trademark grin and trying to look casual.
“How’d the exam go?” he asks. It’s funny, because it would be such a weird question to ask the real Chloe, who never struggled with these things. The circumstances are different for me, of course, but I won’t tell him that.
I shrug, putting on a polite smile. “I think it went well enough? We’ll see about how well, but I’m happy with how I did for now.”
He nods thoughtfully, scratching the back of his neck. The motion leaves his large arms and shoulders quite visible, and for a moment, my gaze strays from his eyes. The moment I notice that I’m staring, I bring myself back under control.
“What about you?”
“I don’t like poetry,” he says vaguely.
“But this poem was sooo romantic,” I say dramatically, eliciting a huff more than a laugh from him.
“Aaaaaaaaaanyway,” he says then, drawing out the vowels almost to the point of awkwardness. “I was wondering if you’d be free this weekend to go to the library and work on our project?”
Right. That’s something I’ll probably have to do, right? Not that it’s gonna be very hard, probably. I already did some research on my own. If I write down a list of books I could use beforehand, that’ll make it pretty easy to find everything we need and finish the majority of the project that day.
Thoughtfully nibbling at my lower lip the way that has almost become second nature at this point, I get out my phone and open the calendar.
"I'm not actually free this weekend, sorry," I say, staring at my phone, nibbling my lower lip. "Not even next weekend. Only after that." I look up, offering an apologetic smile. "I can work ahead, don't worry, we'll definitely get it done on time."
He raises an eyebrow. "Ooooor you could let me help."
I cock my head, surprised. "Uh, sure," I say, sounding highly intelligent. "Thanks for offering."
He laughs. "Of course. I wouldn’t want to let you do all the work, would I?”
Would he not? A little surprising, to be honest, but I’ll definitely take the enthusiasm.
“‘Preciate it. So… how much of the day are we thinking? How much do we want to push?” It’s a term Jason and Neels use occasionally. I think it’s gym-related.
Of course, depending on his reply, I'll still do most of the work on my own beforehand, so we can actually get somewhat done then. Sure, we have two months for the project, but both of us have plenty of other things to do, so it wouldn't hurt to get done early.
Another chuckle from Jason. “However much you want to do. You’re the boss.”
I hum in reply, examining my schedule for the following week. It’s not like I have that much other stuff to prepare over the weekend. My homework will very likely already be done by Friday. “Okay, so… why don’t we plan for the whole day but take a good lunch break and if we get tired of all the reading, we can rehearse for the play?” The two of us are playing the lead roles, after all. “We’d have to be early enough to get one of the quiet working rooms, but I’m sure we’ll manage that.”
“Yeah, that sounds good!” He shifts his weight, like he’s unsure what to say now. “I… still don’t have your number.”
I cock my head, confused. “I’m in the group chat.” I know he is, as well. Sure, we haven’t texted yet, but—
Jason goes beet-red. “I know, but, like… is it okay if I just text you about stuff? Aren’t you… busy?”
It’s endearing, watching the way he stumbles over his own words and thoughts. But I’m not going to make this any harder on him than he’s already making it for himself. From personal experience, I suspect this is already going to haunt him for the rest of the day if not the next few months.. “It’s absolutely okay to text me. About anything, really. Plenty of people text me questions for homework and stuff… Sure, I’m busy most of the time, but I’ll still normally reply within a day.”
He gives a jerky nod. “Right. Uh, sorry, that was dumb.”
I give him an innocent, confused look. “Huh? What was dumb?”
He squirms under the wait of my gaze. “What I said just now, that—”
I interrupt him, the hint of a grin curling at the corners of my mouth. “But you didn’t say anything dumb. Only that you’re going to text me about the exact meeting time and spot for Saturday.”
There’s a moment of hesitation as he meets my eyes, and I see the wheels turn in his head as he tries to figure out what I’m getting at. Then an awkward grin spreads his lips, and he nods. “Of course. Thank you. I’ll… see you then. And tomorrow.” He waves and walks off before I can find out whether his body is capable of blushing even harder than the first time around.