Alizè POV

I wish I had pursued a more purposeful path in life instead of making hasty decisions or selecting things at random. I feel dissatisfied with my lack of readiness, yet I can't say my life is terrible.

Despite my possessions—a house, a car, and wealth—I feel incomplete without a family of my own. It's ironic to have material wealth but still feel a deep void inside.

While I have accumulated riches, the absence of children leaves me longing for the joy and fulfillment that only a family can provide.

Regret is a complex emotion, one that can be both a burden and a source of solace. In my case, the answer to the question, Do I regret it? is a resounding yes, and yet it is also a hesitant no. Yes, because I didn't have the chance to truly live for myself and pursue my own dreams and desires. But no, because I take solace in knowing that I have provided for my family, ensuring they have a place to rest their weary heads.

Would I do it in a heartbeat all over again? Hell yeah, but to die from stress? Fuck no, I was barely even 30 years old, and I fucking died a virgin at that ain't life just a fucking peach.

The void

Strolling. That's the only thing I've been doing ever since I perished wandering in this abyss. I suppose, in this realm of the departed, there are murmurs floating around, but I can't glimpse anyone or anything.

Yet it's becoming dreadfully monotonous. Not even my own musings can engage my mind as I persistently tread on them. At long last, I glimpsed a glimmering light up ahead. "Thank fuck, about time! I'm sick and tired of this infernal walking," I grumbled, and without a second thought, I sprinted towards the light. Just as I reached out to touch it…

In the middle of somewhere*

My eyes shot open, and I found myself sprawled out in a quaint little yard. Taking a quick scan of my surroundings, it seemed like I had landed in the heart of suburbia. The houses, neatly lined up like soldiers, whispered tales of middle-class comfort. With a groan, I hoisted myself up from the grassy ground, feeling the weight of a band jacket clinging to my body. A French horn case lay beside me, a silent companion in this bewildering moment. Curiosity piqued, and I unzipped the backpack that had materialized by my side, hoping to uncover some clues. Among the jumble of papers, one folder stood out, demanding attention with its bold lettering that spelled out a name: AMY JERGUENS

In an instant, the name on that folder sent my mind into a tailspin. "No way, you've got to be shitting me!" I thought, barely able to contain my astonishment. But before I could even process the sheer absurdity of it all, a voice broke through the chaos, jolting me back to reality. "Amy, are you alright?" It was her, my mother. Well, technically, our mother is now. And who might this extraordinary woman be? None other than Molly Ringwald, the legendary actress who had always held a special place in my heart. The sight of her standing there in the flesh left me completely stunned. I mean, seriously, could this whole being-dead thing get any more mind-boggling?

"Amy," her mother called out once more, her voice tinged with concern.

"I'm fine, Mom. I just had a little tumble. You know me, always tripping over my own two feet," I reassured her, well aware of her reputation for being a bit of a klutz on the show.

Extending my arm, she grasps it, pulling me up from the ground. I brush off the dirt, then grab both her backpack and French Horn case, correcting myself mid-thought to acknowledge they are now ours. Together, we navigate through the front door, determined to emerge unscathed from this minor setback.

Relief washed over Anne as she watched Amy safely enter the house. The worry that had been gnawing at her slowly dissipated, replaced by a sense of calm now that Amy were home. With a smile, she carried on with her task, grateful that her worst fears had not come to pass. Shutting the door behind you. She then made her way to the kitchen counter, putting away the food from dinner in containers.

As I moved through the kitchen, I placed my horn on the table before taking off my band jacket. It l

"It's a relief to see you back home! I was genuinely concerned that you might have taken a tumble off a cliff or something equally disastrous. Your dad has already headed back to the office, and he dropped off your sister at a friend's place so she could work on her homework," she said, deftly transferring the leftovers into the fridge. "By the way, that band director is absolutely insane if he thinks those never-ending precision drills are a good idea. He might as well move to North Korea if he's so fond of that kind of extreme discipline. Seriously, the man is a complete nutcase!"

Recalling the most memorable scene from the television series "Mom, no, he's not," I attempted to ease her concerns with a reassuring glance. However, my true intention was to break the news that I was leaving the band and embarking on a new journey for the sake of Amy and her baby boy, John (if it turns out to be a boy). "I can't quite explain it," she responded, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But it feels like an excessive amount of time spent parading around with a French horn, leading to nowhere." As she continued to tidy up the remnants of our dinner, her words lingered in the air, leaving a sense of contemplation.

"Nowhere? Seriously, Mom? We could actually make it to the state championships!" I exclaimed, trying to sound optimistic. But deep down, I knew that Amy's mere dreams wouldn't sustain us. I needed something more concrete, something that could guarantee our survival. With determination in my eyes, I grabbed the French horn and stealthily made my way towards the bathroom.

"State championships? Well, I whipped up a mouthwatering pot roast just for you," my mom exclaimed, placing my plate inside the humming microwave. As the microwave hummed in the background, my mom's voice echoed through the closed restroom door.

"You know, I could totally give that Kim Jong Il wannabe a piece of my mind. By the time you're back home, you barely have a moment to eat or finish your homework, let alone have some fun. You're only young once. You should be out there enjoying yourself.

As I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, I couldn't help but notice my new appearance. I didn't resemble the main character at all; instead, I saw myself—a 5'3" individual with light brown eyes that had a hint of yellow in them. My dark black 4C hair framed my face, complementing my brown skin perfectly. And let's not forget about my piercings. That added a touch of edginess to my look.

After I'm done admiring myself, I reach for the pregnancy test hidden inside the French horn, carefully unwrapping it before peeing on the stick. The microwave was nearing the end of its cycle, and the anxiety was building up inside me. Just because I was an adult in my old life didn't mean I was prepared for the responsibilities of having a child.

At the final beep of the microwave, I anxiously checked the test. The results were in, and my heart sank. The test showed...

POSTIVE

Next Day

High school was a complete waste of time with all the bullies, jocks, and nerds. I never thought I would miss any of it, but here I am, walking down the hallway and spotting that scumbag.

Can you believe he's walking with Adrian, the majorette? I can't believe that Amy really had sex with him, standing there at my locker, watching them flirt. But why is she so fixated on him? It's probably just the universe's twisted way of keeping the plot on track.

Just when I thought I was done with all the high school drama, Amy's two best friends, Madison Cooper and Lauren Tracey, came running up to me. Madison, with her blondish reddish hair, light skin, and a bit on the thicker side, is the same height as me. And then there's Lauren, my other best friend, a black girl like me, but she's what you call a whitewashed black girl. But mark my words: one day I'm going to braid her hair and show her what it means to embrace her roots. Anyway, they're both excited and out of breath, and they blurt out, "We saw him!

As I gazed at Madison and Lauren, memories of the show flooded my mind. I couldn't recall much from my time watching the show before my untimely demise, but now faced with a dilemma, I wondered if I should confide in them about my pregnancy. The thought of revealing this secret lingered in my mind, knowing that it could alter the course of events.

"Who?" I questioned, trying to divert their attention to the discussion about the new guidance counselor. To be honest, I didn't find him attractive watching the show; he simply wasn't my type. However, my curiosity piqued as Lauren's voice filled with excitement, mentioning the name of Mark Molina. It seemed like Madison couldn't contain her eagerness either, referring to him as the new single and delicious counselor.

Amused by the reactions of my friends, I found myself stifling a laugh. "Oh, yeah, I think I've heard a thing or two about him," I nonchalantly mentioned. He definitely wasn't someone I was interested in. Despite the eager tone in their voices, I could tell they were expecting something more exciting than Mark Molina.

Madison's sassy remark and Lauren's echoing sentiment almost made me reconsider sharing the news that I, in fact, had taken over the body of her best friend, who was now pregnant. However, I managed to keep my composure and not reveal my next move, even though something compelled me to blurt out, "I had sex."

"No way," "With whom?" "You must be joking." "How was it?" "That's impossible." Madison and Lauren bombarded me with questions. "It was nothing," I replied, trying to downplay the situation and make it seem less personal. Despite my efforts to keep a straight face, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease lingering in the air.

So, when I nonchalantly uttered, "It was just some guy at band camp," I was hoping to brush off the whole ordeal. I know that Amy had fallen into the clutches of the infamously tricky Ricky!

Madison, being the sharp observer she is, wasn't convinced. She shot back, "But you got to give us more than one night at band camp." She wasn't going to let me off the hook without a proper explanation

I casually shrugged and replied, "Oh, it was nothing."

But this time, my voice carried a hint of newfound confidence. Lauren, always the curious one, couldn't resist probing further. "By 'nothing' you mean...?" I paused for a moment, contemplating my response.

"Well, it wasn't exactly a mind-blowing experience," I admitted, trying to downplay the whole situation. Deep down, I knew that Amy's memory held the truth about what happened down south, but even I, the self-proclaimed dead virgin, was clueless about the details.

Madison and Lauren exchanged glances before turning their attention back to me. "So, it wasn't exactly amazing," Madison inquired skeptically.

Irritated, I responded with a disapproving expression, "Honestly, guys, I don't even think it qualifies as sex."

Curious, Lauren probed further: "Why do you say that?" And that's when I unleashed my frustration: "I mean, I didn't even realize what was happening, and before I knew it, it was over in a blink. It was far from enjoyable, and definitely not the romantic movie scene everyone imagines."

Lauren offers me a compassionate gaze, suggesting, "Perhaps it wasn't an intimate encounter at all. Maybe it was just a dreadful nightmare that tricked your mind into believing it was sex."

Madison joins in, adding, "Yeah, or it could have been an awful person who subjected you to a horrendous experience. Come on, spill the beans; who was it?"

Reluctant to divulge much, I simply respond, "He's not a student here. I met him during band camp." Yet, my body betrays me as I glance at Ricky and think, "What a bitch."