Perfect Days (A Pitch Perfect fanfiction)

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Day 7396

An alarm clock goes off so annoyingly. I open my eyes and sigh as the morning sun warms my skin.

Oooopps...

This is not my skin. It is Tom's.

Tom. That's his name. Today I am borrowing his body, his life. And forgive me, if I use 'my' a lot of times. I know it seems technically inappropriate, as I don't really have a body of my own.

I get up, turn off the alarm, and wander my eyes around Tom's room. One word: messy. Used socks hang around like Christmas bells, his gaming tools and TV wait to be switched off from last night's playing, and the stench... Oh the stench. This is the room of a typical rich boy who apparently is put under pressure by his parents to go to college.

I close my eyes and access Tom's memory so I can have a little background of his life. Yes, I can do that. It's an undying routine, actually. I wake up. I access memories. I pretend. I talk less. I lay low. I go to bed. I do some thinking. I sleep. The next day, I wake up in another person's body, and I do the same set of things again. The cycle goes on. This is my life.

I turn out to be right. Tom is a junior at Barden University. He's a quarterback. That explains the jock jacket lying lazily on the floor. His family is filthy rich. Their surname brings out a lot of stories and controversies dated way back then. They are somewhat known in this town... but not that famous. Tom is the only child, the only one to continue the family's legacy. I'm not even sure if 'legacy' is the right term for it, but that's what I'm using anyway.

There's nothing much about Tom that I can tell you, really. He's just a guy... with a hot body. Wow, Tom! Great work with the biceps and the abs! I walk to his wardrobe and put on a shirt. I don't know what day it is, but I'm going to find out.

I take another step towards the door but I hear his mom yelling out his name, threatening to send him to jail if he skips on school again today.

School. I need to get Tom to school.

I ransack his backpack and check his schedule. Tom's Mondays start with Sociology 103 at nine in the morning. It's already seven thirty. Travel time takes about twenty minutes.

Without delay, I change outfit and fix my hair. I grab his backpack and his jock jacket, and scurry out of his room, out of his house - of his very large house.

Tom's car wows me in so many ways. From the logo, I can tell it's a well-known manufacturer. I'm a sucker for cars so I really do not know a lot of stuff about it. I've never been in the body of a car enthusiast, if you're asking.

As I drive, I keep thinking about how to go with a day in Tom's life. Actually, considering that I already have a routine, this should be easy. I will not interfere; I will lay low. It's just for a day, anyway. Tomorrow, it's another diary. I have messed up borrowed lives for a day, but I never make my mistakes twice. I learn from them easily so bad things never recur.