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Chapter 6

Jenna's POV

After the shock in the janitor's closet finally settled enough for us to think straight, me and Jaden slipped out quietly, making sure no teachers were in the hall. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, it felt like the air got heavier again — like we were both still trying to understand how in the world we were walking around in the wrong bodies.

We didn't talk at first.
We just walked side by side, heading toward the library.

But walking beside him — beside me — felt strange in a way I didn't know how to explain. I kept catching myself glancing at how he moved in my body. Seeing my own shoulders slouch the way he slouches. Seeing my hair, the hair I always brushed out of my face automatically, fall over his cheek only for him to tuck it behind the wrong ear. He took too big of steps, too heavy, like he forgot the legs were shorter. And every now and then he'd wobble, because my balance wasn't the same as his old one.

It was like watching someone wearing a costume of me but forgetting how to act the part.

And when he looked at me — the real him inside my body — I could tell he was thinking the same thing.

By the time we reached the library, I grabbed his wrist gently and guided him toward the back corner where almost no one ever sat. He didn't fight it, but he looked stunned again, probably because he wasn't used to being pulled around by his own hand attached to the wrong body.

We sat across from each other at a small table near a shelf of dusty books no one touches. The light back here was softer, quieter, and the reality of everything hit harder.

I took a breath.

"Okay," I said, pulling out my planner. "We need to talk about school stuff. If you mess up even one thing, teachers are going to notice."

He groaned, sinking into the chair in a way that made my posture look awful. "I know, Jenna... but do you have to take AP English? Seriously? You're trying to make me fail."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not failing anything. If you fail on purpose or at all I swear—"

Jaden's POV

"—You'll what?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "You gonna threaten me again? You know I'm the strong one. Or— was." I gestured at my old body — her body. "Besides, I could put you in a chokehold now."

I knocked my fist lightly against her/my chest as a dumb demonstration of "strength," but the sound didn't feel right. The hit didn't land the way I expected. And it didn't affect her at all — she just stared at me with this blank unimpressed expression.

So I tapped again. Then again.
Nothing.

It felt like wearing a suit of clothing two sizes too small. Nothing moved or reacted the way I thought it should.

Her shoulders lifted slightly and she let out a breath like I was annoying her on a level she couldn't describe.

Jenna's POV

"Jaden," I said calmly, grabbing his wrist — my wrist — before he could tap again. I didn't yank or twist, but his whole arm stopped instantly like he wasn't ready for the sudden stillness.

His eyes widened.
I could see it hit him right then — that his strength wasn't the same. That my body didn't respond the way his old one did.

"Look," I said softly but firmly, "we are not doing the whole 'who's stronger' thing. I'm not manhandling your body, and you're not manhandling mine. Got it?"

He swallowed, then sighed.
"...fine. I get it."

I let his arm go slowly.

"Okay," I said, businesslike again. "May I have your schedule now?"

Jaden's POV

I opened her notebook, feeling the unfamiliar weight of her hands — smaller, lighter, more careful. Even flipping notebook pages felt strange, like the fingertips weren't mine. I tore out a sheet of paper and wrote down my schedule in my messier handwriting, which somehow looked even worse when written with her neat little hands.

I handed it over, and Jenna scanned it immediately.

"You have gym?"

"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "What's wrong with gym?"

She gave my face the most dramatic expression. "I haven't taken gym since ninth grade. And when I 'work out,' I go for walks. That's it."

I couldn't help snorting. "Relax. Coach doesn't care what we do. I usually play dodgeball or football."

Her eyebrows raised.

"Football? Why?"

So I told her about Dad. About the team folding after he passed. About how gym class was basically the only place I still touched a football besides tossing it around with Tyler.

Her expression shifted — more understanding than before.

"Okay... that makes it a little better. But I don't know how to throw a football. I'm not Don Grady."

"You mean Tom Brady," I corrected, almost laughing. "And you don't need to be him. Just aim and throw. And to catch, make a diamond with your hands."

She nodded, absorbing it like actual homework.

Jenna's POV

"Okay... that covers school. Now home life," I said. "What do you usually do after school?"

He told me everything.
Hanging out with Tyler.
The driving hours he needed.
The late showers.
How hard his mom worked.

Hearing all that while looking at my own face saying it... it felt weirdly heavy.

When he finished, I told him about my life — Makayla, my dad being gone for work, homework routines, everything. He actually listened for once.

Then the bell rang.

I gathered my things and said, "Remember — at lunch, sit with Makayla. Not Tyler."

He groaned but nodded, and we went to class.

Later — Hallway Before Lunch

I spotted him wandering the hall, completely lost, so I pulled him aside.

"I packed a lunch for today," I said. "It's in my bag."

"I know," he said. "I'm not eating it. It's too healthy."

I glared — with his eyes, which probably made it worse.
"You're not putting anything else in my body. Eat the lunch."

He raised his hands in surrender and trudged to my locker to grab it.

I headed to the cafeteria with my pizza, chips, and soda — a meal I knew would make him roll his eyes if he were still himself — and reluctantly sat with Tyler.

Jaden's POV

Walking down the hall with Jenna's bag slung over my—her—shoulder felt so weird I kept having to adjust the strap. Her locker felt too low, the combination too smooth, the whole thing too... tidy.

When I grabbed the lunchbox and started heading toward the cafeteria, two guys were talking near the wall. I wasn't paying attention until one of them said:

"Hey dude, check out her ass."

Her.
Meaning me.
Meaning Jenna's body.

My stomach twisted in a way I had never felt before — not pain, just this weird sharp jolt of discomfort that crawled up my spine. I didn't turn around or confront them. I just walked faster, trying to shake off the feeling.

Inside the cafeteria, I looked around until I spotted Makayla. She waved me over like nothing was wrong, like the world wasn't completely upside down.

I sat down quietly, lunchbox in hand, trying to process everything — the body, the walking, the comments, the feeling that the whole school was looking at me with eyes meant for someone else.

And all I could think was:

How are we supposed to survive the rest of the day like this?