Title: Freaky Friday

Summary: Jamerica White was born and raised in Forks. She estimated that life was okay until her grandmama died. Her world ended. But then Bella Sawn moved to Forks and Jamerica had a chance of a lifetime. Bella/Edward OC/Mike

Rating: PG-13

Additional information: In 2020 there was an urging in Twilight FF for authors to include characters that were not pale (the human variety). Inspired by that request the seed of this AU story was born. It has taken me 4 years to get here it for a couple of reasons. 1) RL has been a rollercoaster like no one's business that I want off, and has kept me occupied from writing. 2) I am generally displeased with the tone of how the OC turned out. I attempted her to make her a typical Washington 2005 teen, rather than how SM wrote Bella. I perceive myself to have not quite captured what I was aiming for. Ironically, in all the stories Carlisle's voice has been the easiest for me. What does that say about me? Yet, I'm unwilling to have this sitting on my shelf collecting dust. Hopefully, you will enjoy it. Also, the story rotates pov of Bella, Jamaican, and then Edward.

Disclaimer: Obviously I am not Stephanie Meyer (SM). The story is mine apart from the characters she created. When other writers' stories are referenced, credit is given to them at the top of each chapter.

Chapter 1: What Happened?

If yesterday's encounter with Edward hadn't been bizarre enough, when I began to wake up the next morning nothing seemed familiar. There was an unexplainable uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that I could not name. It wasn't like the swarm of moths that had filled me while I had made a fool out of myself in Biology attempting to hold a conversation with Edward. It also wasn't like the knot clenching tension that had squeezed my insides from Edward's black eyes at our first encounter. Rather the feeling, whatever it might be, warned me that I wasn't going to like the day.

Since Edward was my primary stressor, my brain automatically reviewed our past interactions. We had correctly identified the slides and had a polite chat, even if it had been awkward and disjointed. Sure, I was concerned about my ability to keep my mouth shut around him, as his presence seemed to short-circuit my brain-to-mouth filter. Yet, as I evaluated myself further, it seemed like that concern also wasn't the feeling. Rather, it had a tone of foreboding, like the entire day was something to be apprehensive about, not just the dread of being with Edward in Biology.

Afraid of the feeling, because the unknown of what might be causing it, I kept my eyes shut tight, while my brain began to categorize the plethora of possibilities. Without intending to do so, my brain also started noting physical evidence. The first piece of data that shook me was the sheets that my fingertips were touching. The item itself was not worrisome, since I had just woken up in bed, after all. The concerning part was their texture. First, they were scratchier than they should have been. Not to say that Charlie's sheets were a thousand count Egyptian cotton that cost more than my truck. Truthfully, they had probably been bought at one of the bigger stores in Port Angeles. They were simple basic sheets. Nevertheless, those sheets were soft in comparison to the part of the fabric under my hand. What my fingertips encountered was rough, like when you've washed them too much and they get little bits of fabric in a small ball.

The information regarding the sheets was like fuel to my brain, causing it to want to solve the puzzle as quickly as possible. Rapidly, my brain began to register all the other parts of my body where there were sensations. For instance, the clothes I had on felt like sweats and a shirt, but not the same that I usually wore to bed. The bottoms felt like they belonged to a guy and a large one at that. Added to this, the shirt was too tight, too small, like I had outgrown it, rather than being two sizes too big like I usually wore to bed. Then there was the awareness of having a bra on, which wasn't something I usually slept in, and underwear that was cut in all the wrong ways. Most startling was that there was fabric in places that cloth should never go. My best guess was that it was a thong. Something I had neither worn nor had any desire to do. Consequently, a headache was developing with the question of how I could even be wearing such an offending garment.

That question led to many others. If it was possible to be wearing repulsive underwear, many things became unknown. My fears began to imagine time travel and all kinds of fictional options. Despite my growing apprehension, I was firmly aware of the fact that lying in bed with my eyes closed in confusion wouldn't solve a darn thing. If the years with my mother had taught me anything, it was that any situation was best handled by facing it and tackling it head on. Knowing that there was no more information to be gathered through touch, it was only logical to learn more through my other senses.

Taking in a deep breath, my nose registered the smell of moisture that surrounded me, like the weather outside had come inside and settled into the walls and floors. It was a musty damp green forestry smell. In an attempt to use that information to calm my feelings, my brain tried to compare it to see if there were any similarities to the smell of my room at Charlie's. Unfortunately, I could not recall the way that room smelled, as I had never paid close attention to it, only noting that it did not smell like Arizona. It did help a tiny bit to acknowledge that the smell ruled out being in Arizona and pretty much most areas of that region. Maybe by some luck I was still in Forks. Strangely, that small sliver of possible resemblance to a location calmed my racing heart some. True or not, there was comfort in the thought that if I was in Forks, then there were likely to be Swans to seek help from.

Thoughts of Charlie caused me to consider his life and non-factional options. Could I have fallen sleep at the Blacks' or somewhere else like that? As my mind put all these pieces together, no answers appeared, especially as I couldn't conjure a memory of being on the Reservation recently. For good measure I tried to think of any reasonable explanation to be wearing strange clothes. I hadn't been drinking, as far as I could remember. Charlie hadn't taken me someplace in the middle of the night, as far as I knew. But what was clear to me was that no mater how impossible the situation seemed, there had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. I just had to find it.

Moving my brain out of fiction and horrible possibilities into some semblance of probability helped my nerves. Despite the comfort these possible explanations gave me, they for unexplainable reasons seemed more unlikely to me than the fictional options. Strangely, the possibility that I was in a future were my sheets where old and I had for bizarre reasons decided to wear a thong to bed was the least unsettling option. My imagination conjured images of living at Charlie's while attending college.

Regardless of how I might wish for that option out of all the ones I had considered, it didn't quite fit, as something else was bothering me. However, I couldn't quite yet name it. What was clear, nonetheless, was that something that happened to me that couldn't be described by a simple explanation. Furthermore, the more that I thought, the more what was happening to me seemed impossible. A part of me was terrified, as not knowing what was happening and thus lacking a solution was abhorrent to me. Taking care of Renée had taught me early on how expecting the bizarre was better and that lacking all the facts often made things worse. So many things could go wrong to the people I loved and thus were responsible for.

Forcing my mind to be calm and my breathing to even out, I took deep breaths, and reminded myself of all the harebrained schemes Renée had gotten into, and how I had got her out of them. I could figure this out, as long as I stayed calm. In an attempt to do so, I reviewed what I knew thus far. Touch and smell had offered useful, yet limited information. After careful consideration, I concluded that more clues were needed.

I listened carefully for the telltale sounds of Charlie's place. There were none. The more sounds I registered, the quicker my heart beat. The creaks of the house that I had barely begun to adjust to were unfamiliar. In fact, nothing seemed to resemble Charlie's home except the pitter-patter sound of rain against a window. Straining my hearing, there were sounds like people walking around in a house, but their treads were not Charlie's. Even stranger, I could vaguely hear the voices of a woman and two children.

This new information shook me up, which caused me to pull the covers over my head. Doing so caused me to freeze. None of the smells my nose picked up were familiar to me. The sheets had a different detergent. Even the smells from my body were unrecognisable. Furthermore, as odd as it sounded, my body felt strange, like it was the wrong shape and size. A tear began to form at the corner of my eye as my mind attempted to compute what this might mean. My only hope at this point was that I was not dead.

The more my mind categorized and the more foreign the space I was in seemed, the intensified heartbeats were joined with my chest being increasingly squeezed and progressively more ragged breathing. Taking intentionally slow breaths, I attempted once more to calm myself, as getting more upset wouldn't help matters. If I had keep my mother alive and housed, I could handle whatever was happening. There had to be an explanation, no matter how inconceivable it might be. Wanting answers more than I wanted to cry, I re-forced my mind to focus on solving the problem.

The next rational step was to learn more by gathering further information. Unfortunately, I had learned all that was possible through touch, smell, and sound. Yet, the information gathered had only been frightening. Disparagingly, that only left sight. Yet, I didn't want to take that step, as if doing so would make or break the situation. Lying in bed pretending to still be at Charlie's was temping. Despite my fear, I found the courage to slowly open my eyes. My first reaction was to freeze as my jaw dropped open. I was absolutely certainly not in my room. No reasonable or rational explanation came to mind. Furthermore, this ruined many of the more appealing fictional options. As each minute passed, my eyes kept surveying the space, as if hoping that the next visual pass would magic me back to Charlie's.

A hysterical laugh started in my chest, but I immediately squashed it, and gave myself a stern scolding. This was not the time or place to freak out. Reminding myself again of the fortune of living with my dear mother had given me ample experiences in being forced into unexpected, unexplainable, distressing situations. Taking some deep breaths and forcing my breathing to be even once more helped tremendously, even though it did not change the situation. I could freak out later. First, was problem solving and generating potential solutions.

Upon further evaluation, the size of the room wasn't terribly dissimilar to my space at Charlie's. The most startling differences were its shape along with the windows, doors, and closet in dissimilar locations. Not to mention that my room was decorated nothing like this one. Instead of a purple comforter, on top of me was a collection of unfamiliar blankets. The paint on the walls was a greyish white, but cracking like no one had thought to repaint since the house was built. The window was framed by wood that looked worse for wear and had a clearish single pane, rather than the white heavy near plastic frame with double pane at Charlie's.

There was a dresser and desk with a chair, but all three items were completely different than mine. Where the dresser at Charlie's had been a dark wood that looked a hundred years old, this one was white and slick. It reminded me of something I had seen in the store Ikea that Renée had dragged me to once. The desk was narrower and wider with less drawers than the one at Charlie's. The similarities yet not quite rightness of the space both increased my terror and gave me hope that there could be a reasonable explanation.

Examining the space with a more critical eye, it didn't take me long to notice that the window was open a crack. For an odd reason, the idea of the outside cold air being able to enter the room repulsed me. It was like a homing beacon for a problem easily remedied.

As I moved to get up and close it, my hand entered my field of vision. My eyes flicked downward a second time, since the first glance seemed too unreal. Officially, there were no rationales left. The desire to completely freak out increased significantly, but I pushed it back down as best as I could. Often as my mother's daughter I had the sense of being Sherlock Holmes attempting to make sense out of disorder. His quote "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," came to mind, offering me a sliver of comfort. The truth of the situation could not be found unless I was calm and used the same reasoning skills he did. I might not like his stories as much as the Brontë sisters, but there were moments when he had been more helpful to me.

Scrutinizing the arm that had moved to close the window, it was obvious that it was not my own. Rather than the near translucent skin I was born with, my hand looked like it was three shades darker than Jake's skin tone. My mind looped, as if stuck on a horrible repeat, while I quickly scrambled out the bed on the side closest to the window and closed it roughly. Doing so solved my immediate problem, while highlighting the wrongness of the motions. More frightened than I had been since this whole episode had begun, I took a step backwards, as if the window were jinxed. Moving backward across the room, my back and heels hit an obstacle.

I made the mistake of turning around.

Behind the short dresser my eyes encountered a mirror with a stranger looking back at me.

Static filled my ears. My head felt like it was about to explode. And my eyes filled with tears. Simultaneously, I screamed.

The door slammed against a dresser, "What's wrong?" a deep voice asked me.

Despite my terror and absolute disbelief, I turned slightly towards the direction the sound had come from, which was to my right, like I couldn't help but watch a train wreck. My brain told me to close my eyes and hide from whatever I would find, but my body refused to abide, as if it was controlled by another force.

There in the doorway stood a fairly large man with coffee bean coloured skin. Examining him more closely, I realized that he looked vaguely familiar. He had on a uniform that suggested that he was a Fork's deputy. His body had the similar stance to Charlie when he was running towards danger and waiting to find out how he was needed. The familiarity in the uniform with the stance assured me, allowing me to easily come to the conclusion that he meant me no harm. It also confirmed that I was still in Forks, maybe an alternate reality version, but still. Feeling safer, my mind began to once more go through the possibilities of what was happening to me.

Without intending to, my eyes went back to the mirror. I looked somewhat similar to the man in the doorway. Where his face was round, mine was a bit more oval. My cheekbones were slightly higher and more pronounced than his. My nose was smaller and somewhat less wide as his. And my skin was at least two shades lighter, but there was no mistaking the reality that I looked like I was his daughter.

Had I imagined Charlie and Renée being my parents? Was this a dream? Certainly it couldn't be body snatching. The movie Freaky Friday came to mind, and I rejected that possibility almost immediately. That kind of stuff didn't happen in real life. Then, a part of me remembered Edward and his siblings from school and how other worldly they seemed. Perhaps Forks was enchanted in some way that made fiction become fact. The possibility that I had been body-swapped sounded much more hopeful than body-snatching, so despite the ridiculousness of it, I clung to the idea.

My thoughts awhirl and my jaw still open wide the man in the doorway asked concerned, with a touch of exasperation, "Jamerica?"

What was there to say? Sorry, sir, my best guess is that I might have woken up in your house in your daughter's body and I'm freaking out? Nope. Definitely not saying that, especially to a cop.

"Spider," I whispered, my voice coming out raspy.

He sighed like he was irritated, but looked loving and indulgent. "Come on girl," he insisted. "You've got to get ready for school, and I've got to start my shift. Ma's already left for the hospital, after wrangling Martin and Dameion herself, as she was asked to come in early. We let you sleep through doing your morning chores and helping your ma out, but no daughter of mine is lounging in bed all day instead of going to school."

When I remained frozen in place his voice deepened and his authority came through clear. "God help me, get your behind in gear. Whether you're ready or not, I'm dropping you off at school. We're leaving in 15 minutes."

Forcing this body to give a slight nod, as I couldn't muster anything more, he huffed and moved away, closing the door behind him.

Unsure of what else to do, along with being fearful that he would follow through in his threat, I forced this body to take steps away from the mirror and towards what appeared to be a closet. Fortunately, opening the door revealed clothes. After some rummaging, I found jeans and a hoodie. Then, I looked into the dresser and found a shirt. Looking down, I was instantly appreciative that this body already had undergarments on, thong or not. Not only was I completely uncomfortable with touching this body, it was at least two cup sizes bigger than me, and I was in no mood to figure out how to put someone else's breasts into a bra properly.

Avoiding the mirror, I pealed off the sleepwear and put on the clothes. Feeling a little more comfortable in my own style, I didn't even attempt to figure out what to do with the hair. I had no idea where to even start. This body was taller than me and had a more hourglass shape and was more filled out everywhere, despite appearing fairly fit. Thus, even though the clothes were my style, they looked completely different than my usual, as I took one quick glance at the mirror before collecting my courage to leave the room. Examining the room for a bag, I found one next to the desk zipped up. Grateful for small mercies, I grabbed it.

Stepping into the hall, I tried to find the kitchen. Like Charlie's place, it ended up being downstairs.

Without words passing between us, this deputy handed me some toast and a jacket as he opened the front door, clearly expecting me to step outside.

Biting into the toast, so to keep the silence going, I stepped gingerly, since ice had covered nearly every surface. Once at the car, I slid into the passenger seat.

"Look," he started with a sigh, like he was beyond tired, while he pulled out of the drive. "I know things have been rough recently. Your mother and I wish we could protect you from everything, but we can't. It's been hard on me too losing your grandmother. But being mad at the world and acting like you want to crawl out of your skin isn't the answer. Make her proud by being proud of who you are, your heritage, and your family that's how you honour her. She would want you to live your life to the fullest, and was proud of the Quileute heritage within you. I can easily imagine her telling me at times in my life that the people you thought were friends treating you poorly is a reflection of them and not you."

While he spoke my eyes roamed the vehicle coming to the conclusion that there were little differences between his cruiser and Charlie's. It's not that I wasn't listening, per say. More it was like I was overhearing a conversation not meant for me. Sure, I could piece some things together, but I was missing significant subtext. It resulted in me being frustrated, sad, and tired. I just wanted to go back to sleep and wake up in my body. I closed my eyes tightly wishing to be myself again, but nothing changed.

The car stopped. Opening my eyes revealled that her had pulled over a block away from the school. He sighed heavily a second time, like he was exasperated. Turning slightly to look at me, he insisted, "You can be angry. Injustice is infuriating. Life isn't fair. I get it. I do, but don't forget to be proud of who you are. You have done nothing wrong. Your grandmother didn't leave you. She loved you dearly and would have stayed if she could. It was simply her time to join the ancestors. And even if Mandy is one of your oldest friends, her lack of compassion and understanding is on her. Anyone who cannot see what an amazing person you are isn't worth your friendship."

Not knowing what else to say, I replied with a soft "Okay."

He looked at me wearily and with suspicion. Saying nothing more he turned toward the front and drove the cruiser the short distance into the school's parking lot.

"No more sleeping in," he told me, as I opened the door. "We've given you as much leeway as we can. It's not fair, but your mom and I need your help."

Nodding in consent, as that seemed to be the right thing to do, given the circumstances, not to mention that I understood the need to help out in a family. Hadn't I done that for Renée and then Charlie? As I got out of the car and the cruiser turned the corner, it dawned on me that I was here earlier than most students. Deciding to get out of the cold, I started walking in the direction of the library. My feet might have been walking towards the warmth, but my mind was a million miles away.

A part of me, appreciated his words and how fatherly they had been. Another part missed Charlie, while being mad at how unfatherly he made Charlie look. Charlie cared about me, clearly. He had bought me a truck, for goodness sake. And seeing that I paid Renée's bills, I knew he had been faithful to pay the child support and sometimes even send extra, which was always appreciated. Nevertheless, none of that had given me the feeling the deputy's words had. He knew his daughter and counselled her. I had never gotten that from either of my parents.

These eyes began to fill. It was all too much. I needed respite from the emotional and mental turmoil. Instead, about ten feet from the entrance of the largest building, which housed the cafeteria, gym, library, and some classrooms I paused, frozen. I had been so lost in my thoughts that it hadn't come to me until that moment how, despite the ground having snow and ice, I wasn't falling over like some toddler. Sure, I had put on some boots that had been by the front door, but that still didn't completely explain my steady gait. This small minor thing in all that had happened in the last hour or so was a bright spot. A hysterical laugh began to build. Before it was released, the realization of not being me flooded me once more, overwhelming everything else. Usually my emotions were fairly steady, but this whiplash of the last few minutes would have been an empath's worst nightmare.

Trying to mentally steady myself once more, and not completely freak out, I decided that standing like an imbecile in the middle of the walkway wasn't helping. I had been going to the library, which worked fine, but then what? Those thoughts resulted in the epiphany that I didn't know this body's class schedule. If I didn't want a psychiatric evaluation, it would probably be best for me to act as if I was Jamerica. Taking this body to my classes seemed like a sure way to garnish attention. So instead of the library, since I couldn't think of any other option, I went to the front office.

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Cope asked me with a terse smile and weary look, like I might just reach across her desk and choke her.

Where was the warm welcome I had received? I had always thought Mrs. Cope to be a nice lady, perhaps frazzled by Edward, given her interactions with him on my first day, and overfriendly, given to being too nosy and talkative, but generally nice. Perhaps the person whose body I inhabited was rude to adults or something? Her being a cop's kid, I couldn't imagine that being the case, but from her dad's speech she had been having a hard time with her so-called-friends and her grandmother had just died.

It took me a few minutes to find my voice, as being a few inches taller than I was accustomed accompanied with Mrs. Cope's treatment had frozen me once more. It was so strange to see the world from this vantage point.

Not knowing how else to get what I wanted, I spoke to Mrs. Cope respectfully, trying to sound demure, making sure to keep my eyes on her desk, "I'm having a bad headache today and it's making it hard for me to remember my room numbers. Would you mind printing out my schedule for me?"

She looked like she wanted to chastise me, but instead huffed loudly like I was a great irritant, printed it out, and handed it to me brusquely with an even longer exhale.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cope, I appreciate your help," I told her, attempting to maintain my demure tone, before turning and walking out the door.

She smiled slightly less tersely, like she was glad I was leaving her office and knew how to behave appropriately, but her eyes followed me like any minute I might turn around and harm her. It was unnerving and upsetting.

Glad to leave, I opened the office door and took a few steps towards the sprawling school. I had barely made it five steps when there was an ungodly sound of metal screeching. Turning towards the noise, I watched in horror as vehicles shook with the reverberations of crashing into one another. It looked like a mess of metal. There were a few seconds of absolute silence before there was a rush of people, mostly adults, moving towards the blue van. Looking at the scene, it wasn't hard to assume that I would have been right in the van's destination if this body-swapping thing hadn't happened. Hair rose on the back on my neck and a sense like death had walked past me caused this body to shake in fear. Wanting to flee and knowing blood and me didn't mix, along with the bitter cold that the ice had brought, I walked away and went into the library, keeping my head down and trying to hold my breath. The last thing anyone needed was for me to faint or slip and add to the commotion.

It was only once I was safely seated in a corner of the library that it dawned on me that this body might not be able to smell blood or faint at it. Walking without falling and not reacting to blood were absolutely not worth this terrible knot in my stomach, the fear of being caught, the uncertainty of how to stay hidden, or the wish to return to what was familiar, even if it did contain my disabilities.

Examining the schedule Mrs. Cope had printed out for me, I appreciated finding the name of this body I inhabited. Gazing at the name printing on the page - Jamerica - gave me a vague recollection of the deputy calling me that. Confirmation of what to expect teachers and peers to call me was certainly helpful. Then the name White sat next to Jamerica. At least I knew what name to respond to if a teacher preferred to call students by their last name. Knowing that her father was Deputy White was equally helpful, as it was a name I had heard Charlie say prior. Confirmation that I had encountered someone Charlie worked with was also assuring.

Fortunately, there was also a date on the print out on the bottom right hand corner, which said "January 25, 2005". Many of my options of what was happening were eliminated. I had already confirmed that I was in Forks. Great relief began to spread through me. I was still in someone else's body, which was a problem, for sure, but decreasing the possibilities seemed to diminish my terror. My instance that my mind considered every option until they were proved false wasn't proving good for my nerves. The fear of getting through the day remained, but some of the other apprehensions I had been carrying since awakening lessened.

Knowing a name and schedule seemed like good first steps to unravelling this mystery and hopefully would led to clues in order to fix the situation, so I could get back to my life. The schedule even labelled her as a sophomore, which meant that she was probably fifteen or sixteen, rather than my seventeen. No wonder I had been so blindsided by who she was. I hadn't even been in Forks two weeks yet, and so had only begun to learn everyone in my classes. Freshmen, sophomores, and even seniors weren't even beginning to register on my radar, unless they were a Cullen.

Even though having this information mentally comforted me, and overall resulted in me being calmer than I had been, the whole morning was beginning to catch up with me. It was as if the decreased amount of anxiety and fear increased the intensity of my remaining emotions. I was on the verge of tears once more, and truthfully barely holding it together. I kept reminding myself of how unhelpful freaking out would be, but the desire to was strong.

Being in the library, surrounded by books, helped. It was comforting to be assured that my likes, dislikes, and personality hadn't changed, even if my body, family, house, grade, etc had. Fortunately, it was more than an hour later when the librarian came back in and told me to go to class. The time had allowed me to pull myself together, stop myself from an emotional breakdown, and even start writing a list of clues. It wasn't a long list, but it helped me have a sense of doing something to fix the situation.

When I finally found the right room for Jamerica's Science class, the teacher was trying to settle everyone down. A few people in the class looked at me as I came in, and there were sneers, as if my presence brought down their standing. The reaction to her certainly wasn't like being invisible as I had been in Phoenix, or the shiny new toy behaviour Forks High students had greeted me with. I had to wonder if more had happened to her other than her falling out from her friends. Although, I had certainly observed in Phoenix how popular girls would cut each other down, so that was also a possibility. Either way, obviously her parents were out of the loop. For the first time since arriving in Forks, I seriously considered if moving to Forks had been the wrong move. Of course, I immediately reminded myself that me moving had been for Renée's benefit, rather than mine.

In comparison to the students, the teacher only gave me a cursory glace. Unsure if there was assigned seating, I moved towards an open desk in the back. The teacher didn't correct me, and I sighed in relief when I sat myself down. Opening my bag, I explored what was in it to take notes. Maybe when I was capable of summoning the courage, I would venture facing Mrs. Cope once more to get my locker number and combination, as there were no textbooks in the bag. Hopefully, I would wake up tomorrow in my body and it would be a moot point.

The students resumed their conversations about the car accident that I had witnessed. According to the stories I overheard, Tyler had been speeding and hit some cars in the parking lot and had been taken to the hospital via the ambulance. Evidently, there were rumours that school might be cancelled. Clearly, that wasn't the case, as the bell rang and the principal announced that each class would be fifteen minutes shorter than usual to accommodate the morning emergency. As soon as he completed his explanations, the teacher started.

If I thought Biology had been a bore, Earth Science was a test of my patience, since I had passed it easily last year. Unfortunately, without the text certain details were lost to me. Even aside from the textbook issue, I was struggling to stay focused in class, as my thoughts kept returning to getting my life back.

The part of me that was a good student wanted to focus on my classes, learn the material, and be successful. Another, much more snarky part of me argued that logically these were Jamerica's classes. What consequences would there be for me to fail them? By middle of the third class, English, I decided that my priority was staying hidden until I could undo whatever had been done. Nothing screamed 'look at me' more than a student who was failing a class. Thus, it was to my benefit for the time being to make sure Jamerica didn't flunk her classes.

Unfortunately, both English and then Math had assigned seating. When each teacher had corrected me it was with exasperation and frustration, while the students laughed. At least no one made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself, so it could have been worse. Math was a review, so actually helpful, since it wasn't my strongest subject. After Math was lunch.

Thus far, in each class there had been students that looked at me in disgust, as I had come in the door. I was beginning to wonder what Jamerica had done to deserve their disdain. Her father had made it seem like it wasn't her fault, and it was more on their end, but parents weren't always aware of high school hierarchy. Not to mention that parents seemed to think the best of their kids, which wasn't always the truth. Between their behaviours and Mrs. Cope's it seemed to me that Jamerica likely had an attitude problem or something.

In the cafeteria I sat at a table by myself close to the students that had been in my classes, figuring I was in the appropriate sophomore section. It was easy to find the Cullens, as they were at their regular table, acting very much like they had those weeks while Edward had been away. Even though their presence caught my eye and I was glad to see Edward still at school, suddenly their mystery and Edward's bizarre behaviour seemed unimportant. For a second I thought that Edward looked in my direction when his name passed through my thoughts, like he had done when Jessica spoke his name on that first day, but Edward was one too many mysteries for me. Reminding myself that whatever was going on with him wasn't my business and I had bigger fish to fry, I put him and his family out of my mind.

Even though I was reluctant to do it, since a part of me blanched at the idea of seeing my body and confirming one of my hypotheses, my desire to fix what was happening with me was stronger. Thus, my eyes scanned the room to see if my body existed within the sea of people. My stomach sank and my insides began to turn into a tornado when my eyes moved over to the table where Jessica, Lauren, Mike, Eric, Ben, Angela and myself had usually sat. Feeling like I was going to be sick, my eyes found no one except Angela and Ben. Where had the rest of them gone? Suddenly, my body-swapping idea seemed to unravel. Without my body, how would I ever get my life back? What if I couldn't? Jumping up, I ran to the bathroom, momentarily pleased that I didn't trip or fall. Finding a stall in time, I brought back up the little I had eaten. Exhausted to my bones, I tried to find the energy to get up.

The bathroom door squeaked open and then the sound of healed boots echoed against the walls.

"Being Bulimic won't help you catch Mike's eye," some snotty sounding girl stated through the door.

I was appalled at the idea that what was going on with Jamerica was about a guy, and Mike no less. It being about her grandmother's death had fit within me more comfortably. Knowing that avoiding the situation wouldn't help, I reminded myself of the need to present myself as if I were Jamerica. My body or not, I had dealt with enough pettiness in Phoenix to know that the only way to handle a person like this was to face them head on.

Grunting and weak, I got off the floor, brushed myself off, flushed the toilet, and opened the stall door. On the other side was a girl I could only assume was also a sophomore. Her dress, makeup, and movement reminded me a little of Lauren.

"God, and those clothes," she reprimanded me, as if I'd committed some mortal sin. "Mike has eyes only for the new girl and before that Jessica. You'll never stand a chance with him. Especially now that you," she accused, and then waved her hand towards me.

"Woke up feeling sick and came to school anyway?" I inserted with heavy sarcasm.

"Don't try that with me, Jamerica," she responded haughtily, her voice nasally, as if she was trying to mimic Southern California girls. "Like, I've known you since we were like in Kindergarten together. And, for sure, even on a sick day, you'd never leave your place looking like that. It's like you're just trying to dress more like the new girl, thinking that will attract Mike to you. For reals, I told you that Mike was meant to be with me since the third grade when he helped me up when I fell and had skinned my knee. You're just a back-stabbing bitch trying to take my man. Some best friend you turned out to be," she scathed.

"Honestly, right now I have no interest in anything other than getting through this day, so if you'll excuse me," I told her trying to sound firm, but still kind.

Picking up my backpack, I walked out while she stood silently with her mouth open watching me go. Finding my way to the nurse, I told her that I had thrown up. She looked at me sceptically. The longer she evaluated me, the more defeated I felt. Eventually, she told me to get up on the cot and reminded me that she'd have to call my parents. At this point, I didn't care. I just wanted the day to end. In a move that was unlike me, I lay down on the cot, closed my eyes, and was glad to skip class.

It was all too much, and tears started to collect in the corners of my eyes. What if Mandy's accusations had some truth and my situation was because Jamerica wanted to date Mike? To ruin so many lives for a guy was a bitter pill I wasn't sure that I could swallow. Trying to be strong exhausted me, let alone trying to manage things on my own. Renée might have been unpredictable, but none of her crazy schemes could compare. I had lost everything familiar, including my own body. It was something out of the Twilight Zone. Unable to hold myself together anymore, I shifted to my side, so that my face was towards the wall and cried, attempting the best way possible to muffle my sobs, so that the nurse wouldn't hear.

A while later steps were coming near me and then a warm hand was on my shoulder.

"Neither of your parents can get off work early, but they'll be here at last bell," the nurse stated in a warm tone. "Stay and rest. I excused you from your last class also."

Not trusting my voice, I nodded in acknowledgement.

It wasn't much later when I felt my eyelids grow heavy, the day's events weighing too much on me. I might have had a flightily mother, a distant father, no friends, an inability to walk without tripping on air, a sense that I didn't fit within the world, but at least it had been mine. It was only in losing everything that I wished for it back. What had seemed like horrible problems and the end of the world were issues that I would welcome at this point. Allowing my eyelids to close, I prayed, even though God had been a ridiculous concept prior, that I would be Isabella Maria Swan when I woke up.