The Switch [COMPLETED]

Chapter 11

Asher Halen:

I woke up the next morning to someone banging on the door. I screwed my eyes shut tightly against the gnarly headache pounding in my skull and rolled over, taking a handful of blankets with me.

"LeaMeLoneTucker," I slurred, yawning hugely and drifting back off to sleep.

The banging resumed, only louder this time.

"GET UP!" a muffled voice yelled through the door. "I swear if you're not dressed and downstairs in two minutes mom is going to have an ACTUAL heart attack. You're going to be late for school!"

Mom? School? What? This had to be some stupid prank from one of the guys.

I groaned and rolled over again, slowly opening one eye to filter in the bright sunlight coming through the sheer, gauzy white curtains over a single large window.

What? We didn't have windows like that in the tour bus.

I glanced down at myself and noticed that I had a fluffy white comforter pulled all the way up to my chin. That couldn't be right. The blankets on my bunk were blue...

That was quickly becoming the least of my worries, though, as I slowly sat up and realized that I wasn't in the tour bus at all. I was in an unfamiliar bedroom. Aside from the white comforter and breezy curtains, there was also a neat white desk with a mirror above it, a small television set, and a plush pink chair in the corner with an unruly stack of books piled next to it. The books seemed to be the only thing even slightly out of order in the room. The rest of the space was immaculate.

I turned my head slowly to one side and looked at the door, the lock turned tightly against intruders. I turned my head to the other side and noticed a pair of women's skinny jeans, a black top, and a black bra strewn haphazardly across the room.

I groaned and flopped back into the unfamiliar pillows, throwing my hands over my eyes as I realized what must have happened. I had gotten drunk and ended up going home with some girl. That must be it. Only, who? And for that matter, WHERE? Management was going to kill me.

"HEY!" the voice on the other side of the door boomed again. "Seriously, I'm not kidding! GET. UP!"

Looking around, I realized that I was the only occupant in the room. The mystery girl must have already gotten up and gone somewhere. Sighing, I decided that I might as well get some questions answered by whoever was currently screaming at me through the door.

I swung my legs out of bed and yawned again, stretching my arms up over my head. My body felt really weird, and I rolled my neck as I padded over to the door, shaking out my limbs as I walked. I felt smaller somehow, like I was suddenly occupying less space in the universe.

I opened the door and squinted sleepily at the person on the other side, struggling to make out any distinct features. As soon as I did, however, my eyes flew open wide, any trace of tiredness completely fleeing from my body.

"Ashley?!" I gasped incredulously, and then frowned and touched my throat at the strange, high-pitched sound of my voice.

"Um, yeah," Ashley said slowly, looking me up and down with a look of disdain. "Who else would it be?"

I looked her over with a confused frown, the gears in my head working hard to piece together whatever was going on. It was Ashley Monroe alright, but she looked completely different from the way she had last night. Instead of her rock and roll tee shirt and blown-out bombshell hairstyle, she now had her blonde tresses straight and pulled back into a green and pink argyle headband that matched her preppy pink tennis dress. She looked like the blonde chick from the High School Musical movies, disapproving glare and all. I blinked once, still staring at her with my mouth hanging open.