Chapter 1

Two Months Later

Life as a Displaced is weird. 

I’m living someone else’s life, and inhabiting someone else’s body. Most things from Emma’s life feel foreign to me. 

Lacrosse, oddly enough, isn’t one of those. Lacrosse came naturally - an unexpected gift from Emma’s body. While I never played the sport when I was Jack, it seemed to bring out my competitive nature. Apparently, it did the same to Emma as well. It’s probably the only part of my current life where Emma and Jack are in agreement.

It was a typical hot and humid afternoon in August, and the sun was beating down on the practice field. But I barely noticed. All that mattered was the ball.

I sprinted down the field, my focus razor sharp. I was fast, relentless, and possessed a killer instinct that made me a surprisingly effective player.

"Emma! Inside!" Alyssa yelled, cutting hard toward the center of the field, drawing her defender with her.

"Got it!" I shouted back, already executing the play. I flung the ball to Alyssa and broke towards the goal.

I dodged one defender with a juke move I borrowed from Jack’s football days—and looked up. The clock was ticking down in our final camp scrimmage. Thirty seconds left, and we were tied at 8.

I saw the opening. The defense was collapsing as they converged on Alyssa, leaving me a clean lane up the right side. 

“Open!” I yelled.

Catching the pass in mid-sprint, I tucked my stick in close, my cleats digging into the turf.

“Pass, Kincade!” called a teammate I barely knew, but I shook my head. Not this time. My gut—my detective's gut, screamed for me to take the shot.

Anticipating teamwork, the defender blocked what would have been my pass’s trajectory. My gut was right.

The goal was ten yards away, and the goalie was playing aggressively off her line, anticipating a pass or a sidearm shot. I slowed my pace just enough to load up, making it look like I was settling for a ground-level shot. But at the last second, I flicked my wrists and released the ball with a powerful snap.

It flew high, a laser beam aimed right under the crossbar, rocketing past the startled goalie’s outstretched stick.

The sweet sight of the ball burying itself in the back of the net brought a smile to my face. And thanks to camp, that smile was becoming more frequent.

My teammates erupted with cheers.

9-8. We won.

I stumbled to a stop, heart pounding, sweat stinging my eyes. My teammates swarmed me, a mess of sticks and girls.

“Emma! Oh my God, that was incredible!” Alyssa shouted, hopping up and down and grabbing me in an ecstatic hug.

“You had ice in your veins, Kincade!” said the girl who’d yelled for the pass moments earlier.

The camp coach brought us together in a huddle. "Great game, ladies. Good job blue team. Kincade, nice finish. Heads up, smart shot."

The euphoria faded, but the triumph lingered. For all the uncertainty of resuming Emma’s life, in this moment, I was a champion. And it felt good to win.

* * *

The heat of the afternoon finally subsided as Alyssa and I walked through the door of my house. Well, technically not “my” house, as it belongs to Emma Kincade’s family. But seeing as I’m staying here for the summer, I suppose I could call it “my” house. Just like until Emma returns, this is “my” body.

It’s been a relatively quiet two months back at Emma’s home. I mostly keep to myself and stay home — which annoys the shit out of Emma’s parents — a favorite hobby of mine, I might add. So they enrolled me in Lacrosse Camp this week to get me out of the house. Which certainly hasn’t been all bad. I got to work off some of my pent-up aggression on the field.

It took a little getting used to being called Emma and not Cate. After all, Cate is who I am at PAA. My friends at PAA know my backstory. They know I’m really Jack Baker, Displaced. The victim of a Body Hopper nearly a year ago. But here - here I’m just Emma Kincade. Daughter, teen, lacrosse player, and girl who was sent away to a boarding school for some secretive reason that people keep asking about. My go-to story is that my “boarding school” is really just a lacrosse magnet school.

As for Emma and the Body Hooper, she was forced into the Hopper’s original body, and he, into mine. She disappeared that day, and has yet to be found. No one has found my body either.

Alyssa, here, is one of Emma’s friends from before all that. Before the real Emma fled to a train station to meet an online boyfriend and our lives upended by the Body Hopper. She only knows me as Emma.

This is actually the first time I’ve invited Alyssa back to my house. I’m sure she’s been here before when Emma was around, so I was running out of excuses for her not to come over.

We dropped our equipment bags at the door as the Kincades’ live-in housekeeper, Carmen, came out of the kitchen with two glasses of ice-cold lemonade. Past me would’ve preferred a nice cold beer on a day like today, but alas, I quit drinking as a sort of New Year’s resolution — plus this isn’t my liver to destroy. I doubt Carmen would even give me a beer even if I asked.

“Gracias, Carmen,” I said. “Eres chido.” Yeah, I’ve been learning some Spanish from Carmen. I loathe that she’s the family’s servant, but at the same time, she reminds me that she’s getting paid handsomely. So, I at least try to show some respect for someone being paid to pick up after me. This wonderful lady even offered to throw me a quinceañera for Emma’s 15th birthday when I came home for the summer, but the idea just seemed too weird.

“Thank you,” Alyssa echoed in English.

“Cheers!” I toasted, clinking my plastic lemonade glass against Alyssa’s.

After a big gulp, I led Alyssa to my bedroom. She grabbed her backpack and followed me. The plan this afternoon was to jump into our pool after camp. I set the lemonade on my nightstand, and shut the door behind us.

She opened her backpack and pulled out her bathing suit, when something on my dresser caught her eye. She walked over to it and picked up a book. “Is this your yearbook?”

“Yeah, it is,” I replied, pulling my sweat-drenched T-shirt off. My own bathing suit was neatly set out on the bed: a modest orange two-piece, plus a pair of blue board shorts. Yeah, I'm not comfortable running around in a skimpy bikini.

Speaking of comfort level, I wondered if I should retreat to the bathroom to exchange my sports bra for the bikini top. I still avoid locker room-type situations, as they are just too weird for me.

“Damn, girl,” Alyssa said looking at me.

“What?” I looked around. I was still standing there in my sweaty sports bra and shorts.

“You’re jacked. You’ve got abs.”

I looked down and ran my fingers over my defined abs. I honestly had noticed them. Emma was already athletic when I took over her body. “I work out.” It’s true. PAA has a gym on campus and I’m there most days. Same routine I used to do. Different weights of course.

“What do you do?”

“Crunches. Bench press. Kickboxing. But since I’ve been home, it’s mostly morning jogs and lacrosse.”

“Kickboxing?”

“Yeah - just in case.” I winked.

“Is that how you got that black eye when you first came home?”

“Oh. Yeah. That. The heavy bag fought back,” I chuckled. While she was preoccupied by the yearbook, I turned away, quickly discarded the sports bra, pulled on the bikini top, and inconspicuously adjusted the girls. When I turned around she was still looking at the yearbook.

“Is this an all-girls school?” she asked, setting it down. “I don’t see any boys.”

“There’s a few boys in there,” I said.

“Dang, girl. Dating must be rough.”

I acknowledged that with a grunt and a nod. It’s rough for three weeks every month, but I find my three days with Brittany more than makes up for it. Besides, I find the concept of dating at PAA awkward. The less I do the better.

“Emma, you don’t talk too much about school.”

“What’s to say? I go to class. I made some friends. I joined their lacrosse team.”

“You haven’t told me about any of them since you’ve been back. Hell, you never told me what happened with you and Jacob.”

Jacob - the online boy Emma attempted to run off with - wound up being older than he pretended to be and was working for a sex trafficking ring. His name wasn’t even Jacob. It was Roger Snyder, and he’s definitely behind bars after running into me and my friends. Bumping into that Body Hopper likely saved Emma’s life. Of course, I’d feel better knowing that she’s actually safe somewhere. Even if she should be living this life of a teenage girl. Not me. “Trust me - the less you know about Jacob, the better.”

“OK. Your friends at school. Do you have a roommate?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I have a roommate - Sophia. She’s super peppy. She’s a year ahead of us.”

“And?”

“Well, I have a lot of friends.” I started counting them on my fingers. “There’s Sam, Lulu, and Brandi, Ashley, and Amanda, and… more than I can name. Some who even just graduated.”

“Boyfriend?” she giggled, removing her own T-shirt to reveal her sports bra. I turned away from her. Awkward locker room situation - even though I knew her bikini covered less. 

“No,” I said firmly. Maybe a little too firmly, as it drew out a follow-up question.

She looked at me and cocked her head inquisitively. “Girlfriend?”

I froze, not expecting her to ask that.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, taking my deer-in-headlights look to mean she stumbled onto something juicy. “Emma!” She whispered, “Are you… gay?” She said it like being gay is taboo in 2024. Or maybe it is for a 15-year-old. It's been so long since Jack was in high school, I have no idea what Normie school is like for Alyssa. Almost everyone I know at PAA is some form of queer, even if they’re in a hetero relationship.

Anyway, I’m not gay. I’m straight, because I’m really a 43-year-old man underneath this teenage-girl exterior. Sophia tells me this just makes me trans, but it’s only a technicality because I wasn’t born in this body. “Shh,” I hissed, making sure this conversation remained at low volume. “The ‘rents will flip if they find out.” Actually, I don’t know that. But I imagine that’s something a 15-year-old girl would say when her friend found out she’s into other girls. And the Kincades aren’t the most accepting people. Mr. Kincade goes off on some political rant at least once a week, and he’s definitely voting for that conservative prick in November. “Honestly…It’s nothing serious. Very casual. I don't know. I'm still trying to figure myself out. But - yes - she's a girl."

“Who is she? What’s she like?”

I didn’t really want to reveal those details to Alyssa. Sure, she’s been really cool since I got back here. She helped me not miss PAA as much. But the summer is almost over, and, at the end of the month, I’ll be back at school, where Alyssa will become a long-distance friendship again. Part of me really wanted to tell her the truth. My real name, for example. The real nature of PAA. Hell, I could even tell her that my quasi-girlfriend is a Weregirl, and only exists during the full moon. All other times, he’s my friend Brett, who hangs out with us occasionally. “It’s not serious. But she’s hot,” is all that came out.

“Hot - like me? Or like Clara?”

I put my hand over my face and shook my head in embarrassment. “We are not talking about this.” Sure - Alyssa is cute. So is Clara, another one of Emma’s friends. But I didn't want to admit that to them and have things turn awkward. As if these locker room situations weren’t weird enough when everyone assumed I was a straight cis girl. 

“Oh yes we are,” she insisted. “Spill the details, girl!”

Fine. Some basics. “Well, she’s going to be a sophomore too, like us. We met at a nightclub my second week at PAA.”

“A nightclub?” She looked at me like I was crazy.

“A teen club. They rent one out during the full moon— I mean once a month so students have somewhere to hang out.”

“Wow, your school sounds awesome already. I wish you’d let me come visit. What’s her name?”

“Brittany.”

“And? What else can you tell me about Brittany,” Alyssa pressed, emphasizing my part-time girlfriend’s name with glee.

“Well… she swept me off my feet and she respects my boundaries and moves at my pace. That’s it!” 

“Do you…” she made scissor motions with her fingers.

I turned red. “Oh my God, Alyssa. I’m not talking about this with you!” I was never much of a kiss-and-tell kind of guy in my past life, and I wasn’t going to start now. Whatever happens between Brittany and me behind closed doors is between us. And I suppose Brett. But he knows that what happens with Brittany, stays with Brittany, or else I’ll kick him so hard, he’ll be Brittany the other days of the month as well!

Suddenly my phone began to ring. Thank God, a way out of Alyssa’s interrogation. I checked the caller ID. It was Chief Maxwell Hamilton. The chief of police, my former employer, and my best friend. The only person outside of PAA that actually knows the real me. We hadn’t talked for a while, so I figured he was just checking in. I pressed Answer and greeted him, “Hey Max, how’s it going?”

“Who’s Max?” Alyssa whispered confusedly.

There was a hesitation on the line. “Cate, I’m calling because we found your body,” he said. “I mean, Jack’s body.”

I stood there shocked and excited. Finally! It’s only taken ten months. “That’s great, Chief! Where is he? I want to come down and see him. I have a lot of ques—”

“Cate,” Max interrupted me. There was a pregnant silence before he dropped the bomb on me. “He’s dead. Jack’s dead. I’m sorry.”

All color drained from my face as I dropped the phone.

“Emma?” Alyssa said, coming to my side and picking up the phone. “What happened?”

I was dizzy and fell onto my bed in shock. Alyssa kept pleading with me to answer her and tell her what was wrong, but I couldn’t speak. Hell, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream, right? I’m dead. Jack Baker is dead.