Disclaimer: Me no own Mighty Ducks. Me sad. Me own Becky and everyone that goes with her. Me happy. Me think me is Tarzan… Me dork.

After 45 minutes of rummaging around for Adam's wallet, I sat on his bed, cradling it in my hands. My guy hands. The hands I still wasn't used to; therefore, I ended up knocking over too many things on the dresser.

I opened it up and saw something I was accustomed to, for once. There were credit cards filling every slot in the fine leather wallet. I slowly took them out, examining them. Most of them were what I had – some I'd never even heard of. I lowered my eyebrows, a little confused. Was this guy loaded or something?

I found his bank card, getting a little excited. The truth was soon to come out. Grabbing his laptop, I set it on my lap and went to the bank's website, typing in his card number. When the page came up, my jaw dropped and my eyes widened.

"Holy… he's THAT rich? He's that rich and he doesn't buy Ralph Lauren!" I said in astonishment, getting ready to wipe drool from my face. Speaking of my face, I felt so carefree and light now that I wasn't wearing a pound of make-up. It was wonderful, to say the least.

Suddenly, I realized something. "I'M that rich."

"Yeah, you are." I jumped a little, looking beside me to see Charlie rubbing his tired eyes.

"Oh, did I wake you?" I asked, concerned, but not really. When he shook his head, I turned back to the computer, the huge number staring back at me still.

I exited the page and searched around his computer more. I found his e-mail and couldn't resist. Thankfully, his password was saved. There were a few new e-mails – some from friends, one from his dad, and then some hockey newsletters. I opened one and began to read.

Suddenly, I felt a weird feeling… like, a tingling. My eyes widened once again and I bit my lip. Oh, no. Please, God, no. I thought to myself, realizing what was going on. I. Have. To. Pee.

I just wanted to break down crying right then and there. What was I going to do! I couldn't hold it in… who knows how long I was going to be stuck in this body! But I sure as hell didn't want to even attempt to… well, you know!

I sighed, reading the e-mail but not comprehending any of the words. After a few minutes, I started doing what I always do when I have to pee but can't at the moment. I uncrossed my legs, letting them hang over the side, and I started bouncing.

"Dude… what are you doing?" Charlie asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Uhm… I just have to go to the bathroom." I replied, nonchalantly.

"Well, why don't you go?"

"Because." I stated, using the phrase I used most in my daily life. Usually, I got my way and was left alone. But, now…

"Because, why? Just go!" Charlie said, scoffing.

"Fine, fine." I said, standing up and opening a random door. Definitely wasn't the bathroom. I opened another door, which was, and rushed in. "Oh my gosh. What do I do?" I whispered, panicking. Then, I couldn't take it anymore.

I closed my eyes. And I did my business, whimpering in the process.

When all was said and done, I squirted a ton of hand sanitizer on and went outside, greeted by a disturbed expression on Charlie's face.

"What?"

I sat in the backseat of Becky's huge SUV, shifting around in the leather seat.

"Honey… what's wrong? You seem uncomfortable." My new mom commented, sitting next to me.

"Nothing, mom. I just have this huge itch in the middle of my back." I said, trying to reach it, but failing miserably.

"Here, let me help." She said, scratching my back with her long, perfectly manicured nails. "Oh, Becky, you silly goose – it's just your bra strap." She said, taking her hand away.

"What?" I asked, before shaking my head and remembering that video they showed us in 5th grade. "Oh, that's right. My…thing." I replied awkwardly, scratching my ear.

I sat still the rest of the ride, but my back still itched horribly. God, being a girl – especially this girl - sucked to the max. First of all, there was so much hair that it kind of hurt. Second, WHO WORE THIS MUCH MAKE-UP! I've seen some girls put it on in class, but it's not this much. And last… this bra will be the death of me.

When the car stopped, my door was opened and I stepped outside, my sunglass covering at least half of my face. Paparazzi sunglasses. Got it.

After being rushed into a moderately large, stone building, I was ushered into a huge conference room where everyone who was already in there, stood up and greeted me like I was some huge celebrity. Oh, wait…

Anyways, after too many minutes of shaking hands and smiling uncomfortably, I sat down at the head of the table. A man who just looked like a big shot thrust a stack of papers in front of me, a nice ball point pen resting on top.

I didn't have to be famous to know what to do – of course, I was supposed to sign it. But, being who I really am, Adam Banks, that is, I decided that I should read through it first. I mean, Becky Conners would probably do that, right? I'd assume that she's not that stupid.

I flipped through the pages, skimming through each paragraph. During the middle of the 3rd page, I heard someone next to me clearing their throat.

"Anything wrong, Ms. Conners?" Mr. Big Shot asked, his hands neatly folded in front of him.

"No. Just reading through it." I sat there for about 5 more minutes, just scanning on through. I finally decided it was worthy of signing and autographed the dotted line – thankfully, I wrote "Becky Conners" instead of "Adam Banks". Maybe I was getting used to it by now.

When I was back out in the huge car, my mom looked at me as if I'd grown another head. "What's wrong?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"…What happened in there? Why did you take so long to sign it?" She inquired, looking genuinely confused and befuddled.

"I just wanted to make sure I knew what I was signing." I explained, noting to myself that I was signing it FOR Becky. Not as her. Ok, maybe people in Hollywood weren't as wise as I thought. That's very sad, actually.

We arrived back at the house (which I was still getting used to the size of) and my mom enlightened that I had a semi-free afternoon. I only had to make a small appearance at some new café down the street and that was it.

I ran upstairs, searching for a computer. At the end of a long hallway, I saw a big, oak door with a sign on it. Actually, it wasn't a sign. It was perfectly cut wooden letters spelling out "Becky". And they were pink. I sighed, opening the door. But, I didn't too much further.

I was officially standing in the biggest, most expensive, most spoiled room ever. Not only did she have three couches, but a ceiling-to-floor fireplace, real oak floors, a TV that basically took up one wall, and the plushest bed I'd ever seen.

Walking around in awe, I took everything in. The floors and bookshelves were spotless with not a speck of dust in sight. She's either a neat freak or has a really efficient maid…which kind of makes me jealous. I wish Charlie and I had a maid. I shook my head and began to look for a computer. Then, I spotted a folded up hot pink iBook sitting neatly on an oak desk.

Rushing over, I opened it up and turned it on in a flash. I had to book me a flight to Minnesota and fast.

Yay! I'm so glad that I updated even though spring break is over. Cross your fingers and hope that I don't get too swamped with work. crosses fingers

My Dog Ate My Penname: Thanks for your review/constructive criticism! It really did help me! yeah kool okay bye

Hotashell99: Thanks so much! I'm glad to hear that you like it

Sinbin05: No… I've never transformed into another person before, but I'd love to! Thanks for the compliments!

Eldrid: Yes, some very disgusting thoughts, as you can see… Hope you liked it!

Queen of the Cake-Eaters: Thanks! Keep reviewing, por favor?