Chapter 2

Sir. She had called him sir. Emmy looked down at her hands again—Jack's hands—and felt a fresh wave of nausea. "I'm not a sir," she managed, her voice coming out in Jack's low, steady tone. It was wrong. Everything was wrong.

The nurse gave her a gentle but firm look. "Mr. Henderson, you have a mild concussion and some bruised ribs. You need to rest."

Emmy shook her head, which only made the pounding worse. "No, you don't understand. I'm not Jack. I'm Emmy. I'm a girl."

The nurse's eyes flickered with pity. She probably thought the head injury had done more damage than they'd realized. "Of course, dear. We'll have a doctor come speak with you. Just try to relax."

Relax. As if that were possible. Emmy sank back onto the pillow, her mind racing. The last thing she remembered was the blinding headlights, the screech of metal, and then darkness. Now she was in Jack's body. Jack Henderson, her nemesis. The boy she despised more than anyone.

Across the hall, Jack was having a similar crisis. He sat up too fast, his head spinning, and caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror above the sink. Long, chestnut hair. Delicate features. Wide green eyes that were not his own. He let out a string of curses that sounded strange and high-pitched coming from Emmy's lips.

A different nurse appeared. "Miss Carter, please lie down. You've had a traumatic event."

Miss Carter. Jack stared at the nurse, his mind struggling to process. "I'm not Emmy," he said, his voice tight. "I'm Jack. Jack Henderson. I'm a guy. This is wrong."

The nurse offered a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes after a concussion, patients feel disoriented. It's completely normal. Just rest, and we'll check on you soon."

Jack wanted to argue, but the nurse was already gone. He slumped back, feeling the unfamiliar weight of Emmy's body—the lighter frame, the softer skin. He flexed her fingers, wiggled her toes. It was like wearing a suit that didn't fit.

A few minutes later, Emmy made a decision. She couldn't stay in this room, pretending to be someone she wasn't. She had to find Jack. Maybe he was here too. Maybe they could figure this out together.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the ache in her ribs. The hospital gown was too short, leaving Jack's legs exposed. She grabbed a robe from the hook and wrapped it around herself, then shuffled to the door.

The hallway was quiet, lit by fluorescent lights that hummed softly. Emmy peered into the room across the hall and saw a figure sitting up in bed, staring at the wall. The figure turned, and Emmy's breath caught.

It was her own face staring back at her.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then Jack, in Emmy's body, spoke. "Is that really you?"

"Yeah," Emmy said, her voice trembling. "It's me. I'm in you."

"And I'm in you." Jack let out a hollow laugh. "This is insane."

Emmy stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "What happened? How did this happen?"

"How should I know?" Jack snapped, then winced at the sound of Emmy's voice coming out so harshly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I'm just... freaking out."

"Me too." Emmy sat on the edge of the bed, careful to keep her distance. "We have to figure out how to switch back."

"Switch back?" Jack rubbed his temples with Emmy's slender fingers. "We don't even know how this happened. It's not like there's a manual for soul swapping."

Emmy frowned. "There has to be a way. Maybe if we recreate the accident?"

"Are you insane?" Jack's eyes widened. "We almost died. I'm not going through that again."

"Then what do you suggest?" Emmy's voice rose. "We can't just stay like this forever. I have classes, a life. I can't be you."

"And you think I want to be you?" Jack shot back. "I have plans, responsibilities. I can't show up to my job looking like a girl."

They glared at each other, the tension thick. But then something shifted. Emmy saw the fear behind Jack's eyes—the same fear she felt. And Jack saw the desperation in Emmy's expression.

"Okay," Jack said slowly. "Okay. We need to calm down. Yelling isn't going to fix anything."

Emmy nodded, taking a shaky breath. "You're right. We need to work together."

"Together?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "We hate each other."

"I know. But we're stuck like this. For now, we have to pretend to be each other until we find a way to switch back."

Jack considered this. "Pretend to be each other? How hard can it be?"

"Harder than you think," Emmy said. "You have to act like me. I have to act like you."

"Fine. But we need a plan. First, we have to convince the doctors we're fine so they let us out of here. Then we can figure out what to do."

Emmy agreed. They spent the next hour comparing notes—Emmy's schedule, Jack's schedule, quirks, habits, how to walk, how to talk. It was awkward and frustrating, but they managed.

When the doctor came to check on them, they put on their best performances. Emmy, in Jack's body, tried to mimic his confident, slightly aloof demeanor. Jack, in Emmy's body, softened his voice and tried to seem warm and friendly. It wasn't perfect, but the doctor seemed satisfied.

"You're both lucky to have survived," the doctor said. "Mild concussions and some bruises. You should be able to leave tomorrow morning. Just take it easy."

"Thank you, Doctor," Emmy said, trying to sound like Jack.

"Yeah, thanks," Jack added, with a smile that felt foreign on Emmy's face.

After the doctor left, they looked at each other. "That was terrible," Emmy said.

"You think? I sounded like a robot."

"And you smiled like you were in pain."

"Because I was." Jack sighed. "This is going to be impossible."

Emmy felt a flicker of something unexpected—sympathy. She had never thought of Jack as anything but arrogant and annoying. But seeing him trapped in her body, struggling, she realized he was just as scared as she was.

"We'll get through this," she said quietly. "We have to."

Jack looked at her, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah. We will."

That night, they were moved to the same room so they could be monitored together. Emmy lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, while Jack sat in the chair by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass.

"Hey, Emmy?" Jack said, his voice soft.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. For being such a jerk."

Emmy turned her head to look at him. "You mean before the accident?"

"Yeah. I don't know why I acted that way. Maybe I was just... I don't know. Defensive."

"Me too," Emmy admitted. "I guess I was too quick to judge you."

They were quiet for a long moment. Then Jack said, "Do you think we'll ever go back?"

"I don't know," Emmy replied honestly. "But I think we have to try. And until then, we have each other."

Jack smiled—a real smile this time, even if it was on Emmy's face. "Yeah. I guess we do."

Emmy felt a strange warmth spread through her chest. It was confusing, unsettling, and yet... not entirely unpleasant. She closed her eyes, trying to push the thought away. But it lingered, like a seed planted in the dark.

Tomorrow, they would leave the hospital and face the world as each other. And somewhere, deep down, Emmy knew that this was only the beginning of something she could never have predicted.