“Is that you Chelsea sweetheart,” calls Kelly Cooper.
You close the front door to the Cooper house – your house – behind you quietly. “Yes Mom,” you shout back, grabbing hold of the banister and preparing to head up to your bedroom.
“Where were you honey,” calls your new mom again. “You missed dinner. Have you eaten?”
“I was at Kendra’s,” you lie. Lying comes so naturally to you now. “We’re working on a project for school. Her mom made something for both of us. I’d have called you but my cell run out of charge.”
“Oh, ok,” says your mom, appearing at the doorway to the living room. She looks very much like you do, albeit aged a good twenty odd years. You know, because she’s repeatedly told Chelsea before you became her, that she was a cheerleader herself back in her school days. Just as your new dad was her high school sweetheart.
You suppress a sneer. You can’t imagine marrying Gordon, a sentiment that both the Prescott and Chelsea parts of you are in a surprising agreement about. No, Gordon is just a convenient tool, one that cements your place at the top of the school hierarchy. Once you graduate you’ll find someone else. Someone to advance your position, wherever you end up. Someone like… Jon Straussler? There’s an interesting thought and one that hadn’t occurred to you before your… change… this afternoon. You file the possibility for future reference and smile at your mom.
“I’m beat mom,” you tell her. “I was thinking of going to bed early.”
“Golly sweetheart, if you think that’s best,” answers your mom. It’s clear from the look on her face that she doesn’t quite believe you, and it’s equally clear that she isn’t going to pry. Perhaps she suspects that things Chelsea is getting up to are the same as the kind of things she got up to when she was your age. How would she react if she knew the truth? “If you change your mind, I’ll rustle something up as quick as you like,” she adds, beaming at you. “Gotta be up bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning.”
“It’s Saturday tomorrow Mom,” you whine. Going to bed early is a lie too, of course. Your transformation at the Straussler house has eaten up far too much time that you, Chelsea, would normally use for something else. When you reach the top of the stairs and enter your bedroom, this first thing you do is flip open Chelsea’s laptop.
It doesn’t take long to catch up on the half dozen or so social networking sites you now use as Chelsea. You divide your time between devouring tweets and posts and giving yourself a manicure. Every so often you pause to tap out a response – sometimes signed, sometimes using an anonymous account. You are a little more careful today that Chelsea might have been with such things yesterday though, now that your Will Prescott part insists that anonymous accounts are no such thing. There isn’t anything important to worry about though, it’s mostly just lame posts by people with boring lives. No one as important as you anyway. Luckily your odd behaviour at practice has gone unnoticed although you have the nagging feeling you’ve forgotten about something…
Your cell phone rings. You glance at the screen before picking it up and answering. “Hello girl.”
“Hey Chels,” replies Kendra. “I wanted to check, are you going to Jamie Bornholm’s party tomorrow?”
That’s what you’d forgotten about. “I thought it was tonight,” you reply, puzzled. In truth, Chelsea – the Chelsea before you became her – had been planning on skipping the party. Jamie Bornholm simply isn’t important enough to command your attention. Now that you are Chelsea, well Jamie’s still unimportant, but the idea of going to your first party as Chelsea is appealing, no matter how dull it might be.
“Mmm, last minute change of plans,” explains Kendra. Interesting, you think. “I think you should come.”
Not that Kendra can see you, but you narrow your eyes. “You know something, don’t you?”
On the other end of the phone, Kendra giggles. “Maybe. You gonna be there girl?”
“Maybe,” you parrot. “What about Eva and Jessica? Are they going?”
“They’ve been invited,” replies Kendra. It’s her turn to sound puzzled. “Why?”
“Oh,” you reply airily. “It was just an idea I had.” You’ll need to get hold of the sisters before they go to the party then. Maybe some time in the afternoon? “It doesn’t matter. I’ll maybe see you tomorrow.”
“You know it Chels,” says Kendra by way of goodbye.
You hesitate before switching the phone off though. Instead you flip through the phonebook until you find the number you are looking for. A couple of taps on the screen and it starts ringing again.
“Yes,” says Eva Garner rather testily as she answers.
“Hiya Eva,” you reply chirpily.
“Chelsea,” states Eva. “What is it?”
“You’ll never guess who I ran into today,” you continue, ignoring the irritation in Eva’s voice, and the loud sigh that follow from her as you keep on talking. “Jonathan Straussler, you know, from Eastman. He’s got this great idea: Have a party for both Eastman and Westside at his house, so we could, like, bury the hatchet.”
“I see,” says Eva exasperatedly. “Look, why are you telling me this Chelsea, and not Kendra?” She all but spits out the name of your associate.
“Well, I know we don’t always get along,” you say in a hurt tone of voice. Luckily Eva can’t see you failing to keep a smile off your face. “I though, you know, maybe it would be a good chance for us to bury the hatchet too.”
“I see,” says Eva, her voice tinged with suspicion. You can hardly blame her. The previous Chelsea played nice with her several times in the past, only to turn round and knife her in the back later.
“I really want us to get along better,” you wheedle. “With your sister too. You should come meet him at his house with me tomorrow. Both of you. I promise it’ll be the first step in us all becoming BFFs.” You grin again. Not a single word there was a lie.
“I don’t know.” She’s hesitant. A Chelsea-instinct tells you that all you have to do is push her a little harder.
“You should see this guys house, it’s like a castle,” you add.
There is some muffled conversation at the other end of the line. “Alright Chelsea,” says Eva, with some reluctance. “We’ll go see this guy, but I’m not promising anything.”
“Great,” you reply enthusiastically. “How about I pick you up after lunch. We’ll go together.” There is still some resistance from Eva as you hash out the details, but you have what you want from her and her sister now. They’ll be at Straussler’s tomorrow for you to make the switch with Frank. You feel more than a little smug as you terminate the phone call.
But you still have one last call to make before you can finish for the night. You dial the number using the phone book. “Hey snookie,” you say, as the person on the other end answers. “Did you miss me?”
Gordon Black grunts monosyllabically in response. The previous Chelsea had been giving her boyfriend the cold shoulder for the last few days. It’s something she did from time to time because, and you bite your lip nervously at the thought, making up afterwards always felt so good.
It leaves you a little queasy. You’ve no desire to sleep with the fucker, and now that you are Chelsea, her already low opinion of her boyfriend has taken a nosedive. What you are though, is keen to exert the kind of control over Gordon that your predecessor had. That might involve doing some distasteful things, you realise, but all you need is to keep him sweet until you graduate and you can dump him for someone more useful.
“I’m going to Jamie Bornholm’s party tomorrow,” you say in a low voice. “You should come along.”
“I thought you were going to skip it. You said it would be lame,” growls Gordon. “Why’d you change your mind?”
“You should come,” you say, lowering your voice to the sexiest register that you can manage.
“Oh,” says Gordon, his interest suddenly sparking. “Oh.”
You giggle in response. “I’ll see you there snookie,” you say in a breathy voice, hanging up before he has a chance to respond.
Finally satisfied with your work, you put your phone down and turn off your laptop. You disrobe in a workmanlike fashion. There will be time to play with the magnificent body you have stolen later. Right now you are tired. You find a pair of pink cotton PJs under the pillow on your bed. They slip on easily, feeling soft and comfortable against your skin. Then you turn out the lights and crawl under the bedcovers.
But you don’t go to sleep, not yet. Instead you close your eyes and meditate, summoning your ousiarchs close to you. The magnificent golden disc of Glundandra and the featureless blue-green orb of Eldibria manifest in your inner vision. You murmur gently at them, asking them to reveal your new prodigies to you. Then you sink into a soft sleep.
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