Soul Mates

Soul Mates

I have slept with a pen and a notebook on the nightstand next to my bed every night since I started high school. Every other week, I test the pen to make sure it hasn’t dried out. I have no idea why I do this, though, because I never use the pen for anything else. It just sits there on the pad of paper, waiting patiently for the night when it can finally be used by someone other than me, for something other than to practice writing my name over and over again.

That isn’t the only thing I do to prepare, though. Some time in the past year, I started sleeping with the curtains on my bedroom windows open to let the leftover light of the city seep into my room, so that if I am possessed by someone at night, they will be able to see. For my sake, I hope my soul mate takes the same precautions.

I think about this while I stand in line for lunch in my school’s cafeteria. It has been the only thing I’ve been able to think about for the past few weeks, in fact.

Today is my birthday. Although, technically, I turned sixteen some hours ago during the first half of the day, nothing about anyone’s sixteenth birthday is exciting until midnight. That’s when our mind executes a process in which we possess the body of our destined soul mate for around three minutes. Within that time slot, we can do whatever we want inside the body of our perfect match. Most people write phone numbers or emails down for their soul mate to find when they wake up. Some people try to talk to the parents or friends of their soul mate, giving them instructions on how to reach them later; although, sometimes this method of establishing connection proves unreliable if those family members or friends are forgetful.

“Hey, the line’s moving,” the boy in line behind me says, shoving me a little.

I’ve been spacing out all day; daydreaming, I guess you could call it. I’ve been wondering what my soul mate will be like.

As I step forward to take a tray from a stack by the counter, I wipe my shaking hands on my jeans and feel a lump in my pocket. I’ve taken to carrying a marker around with me during the day in case my true love turns sixteen in a radically different time zone than me. It’s statistically improbable; at least, that’s what the experts say. However, it’s certainly possible that my soul mate could turn sixteen on the other side of the world. I’ve seen it happen before, in fact.

I was sitting in math class once during my freshman year in high school, when all of a sudden the girl sitting in the desk in front of me slumped over onto her notebook. Everyone jumped out of their seats and rushed over to her when they saw what was happening.

“What’s wrong?” they kept asking over and over, until the girl’s eyes flew open a moment later.

The girl’s soul mate looked around at us in the girl’s body with a dazed expression. He or she blinked a few times before realizing what was going on, and where they were. It took him or her several minutes and some broken English to get across that they were from some part of India. In the end, they ended up writing down a message on the girl’s math binder in Bengali for her to get translated later.

When her soul mate’s time was up, the girl slumped over again and then got right back up like nothing had happened. After that, I heard some news from a friend of a friend that she was learning Bengali from her new girlfriend, and in return she was teaching her English.

Once I have my food from the counter, I start walking towards the corner of the cafeteria where my friends and I usually sit.

“Anna,” my friend, Isaac, calls to me. “No wonder the line is moving so slowly, you’re a thousand miles away and holding up the entire cafeteria.”

My other friend, June, nods and grins. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if every kid in the school gets to class late next period because of you trudging down the hallway like a heavily medicated zombie.”