The Mysterious Case of Luna Summers

Chapter 3

Is it possible to explain how a spirit aches; how it cries, how it hurts, how it's shaking with suffocation and insanity? It's a hard feeling to describe, but I knew inside I was weeping. No tears ran down Bryce's cheek's, but inside I felt them one by one. I fell back on the bed and  sighed. My headache was returning, and I listened to the humming of the washing machine down the hall. I had to relax, but was there even a way to relax? 

Had there ever been anyone in such a situation? Was I the only one in the entire world? 

 My forehead began to feel hot again, and I could sense my fever returning. I crawled my way under the quilt and tried to get some well-needed rest. The impossible had become reality, and I hadn't a clue on what I was supposed to do. Except for try and sleep it off. Maybe if I fell asleep, I'd return to my body again. I squeezed my eyelids shut, and then opened them numerous times. 

Aggravated, I flipped the quilt off of me after sweat began to form on my forehead, and got up only to click the ceiling fan on. I needed a list, some sort way to balance what I needed to get done. It was the only way to concentrate, and that was something Claire had taught me. I did this at home all the time when I was frustrated, and it usually settled my nerves. I searched everywhere in the room for a clip, and I pinned up Bryce's bangs hoping that the heat would fade away. It was unbearable. Why was there a girl's clip in his room? I never found out. 

I sat down at his desk, and pulled out a clean sheet of paper with a pen. I thought for a second, and on impulse I began writing: 

The Case of Luna Summers: Goals

1) Find my body 

2) Keep Bryce's life on the right track 

3) Get rid of the fever 

I anxiously tapped the pen on my chin, Bryce's chin, whatever. Was that all I needed to do? The gears in my brain were jammed when my stomach felt like it was churning again. I leaning over the nearest trashcan and when nothing spilled, I sat back up again. My hands were shaking, and my palms were sweating excessively. The pain in my head won against trying to write some more, and I stuffed the paper into the top drawer of the desk. 

Clumsily, I swayed over to the bed and fell face first into it. Once my cheek hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

* 

Now I was dreaming. 

It was the type of dream where you felt as though you were awake and you could make  conscious decisions, but you knew it was not your reality. You could hear yourself breathing. It was all so vivid and alive, my eyes never stopped looking.

I was at home. It seemed as though I was looking through my eyes. Midnight had curled up on my lap and I pet her slowly with a steady hand. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. The floor was that fake wood color my father loved, and the lights were off. In the corner of my eye, I saw there was a book sitting on the coffee table next to me, and when I reached over to pick it up I saw that my arm was feminine. The fireplace flickered as I stared at the arm. 

Was that me staring, and if so; why? 

Suddenly, my vision began to dart all around the space. It was all dark except for the fireplace's glow. There was the large love seat I always sat on, and there was me. I knew it was me. I was watching me. My dark, brown hair tumbled down my back in locks and my pale skin stood out in the darkness. A sweater hugged my body and a bow was pinned in my hair. Suddenly, Midnight jumped off of my lap and disappeared into the surrounding darkness. It was only me, the love seat, the fireplace and the darkness. I wanted to yell out to her. 

I was watching myself, and I wanted to get her attention. 

With dread, I watched as my head shook wildly and my hands flew up to my temples. My palms pressed and pressed, and the bow began to slip from my hair. What was wrong? I looked like I was in pain. My face turned to look at me, and I almost screamed.  It was me, but I looked tired and my features seemed to be collapsing in on themselves. My eyes were brimmed with eerie tears, and in my brown eyes there wasn't that gentle glow I usually had. 

There was a tint of green. 

And the eyes were frightened. 

*

I woke up gasping for breath from my nightmare. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my hands had begun to shake again. Instead of warm, I felt freezing chills racing down my spine. I wrapped myself up in the quilt like a sitting burrito and sat dizzily in the center of the bed. The clip that had held up Bryce's bangs now only held them loosely, and the hair was falling back onto the forehead. 

The once sunny day had been wiped away, and there was a light drizzle outside. Breathing heavy, I collected my sanity. I was still Luna, and this was still Bryce's body. What could that dream have meant? Quickly, I jumped up from the bed and threw the quilt off of me. I rushed to the mirror and peered at Bryce's eyes. They were green, just as I had assumed. Luna's eyes were brown. A boring brown. A deep brown full of emotions and bright with happiness. 

But the Luna in my dream had green peeking from the edges of her pupil and iris. 

To my surprise, I began laughing. It was remarkable. I was giggling at my own pitied situation, with a hand pressed against my forehead as I leaned again the wall. It may've been a dream, but it was real enough to conclude that Bryce really was in my body. A boy I had never met in my entire life had switched places with me. It had to have been involuntary on each side, judging by how desperate Bryce appeared behind my body's mask. 

However, how had it happened? 

I sunk down the wall, and ended up on my bottom on the floor. I shook the clip out of Bryce's hair, and the bangs just about fell over my eyes. I flipped them to the side instinctively, and buried my eyes in my palms. Bryce, Bryce, Bryce. He had to have been frightened. I wondered if he played it cool like I did, or maybe he panicked and Claire took him to the hospital thinking it was me. 

I had to find my body, as well as the person in it.