Young Writers Society

Hi, everybody! This is my first story on YWS. I know my chapter is way too long but I write long chapters and I was thinking of chopping this up but I didn't think it would flow properly. Please tell me what you think!

I woke up that morning to see a pale blue ceiling with white edging that was pretty far above my head. I blinked, frowning slightly. I could also feel smooth silky material beneath me, on my bare skin. My frown deepened. There were several things quite wrong about this scenario.

First of all, my ceiling was lower than that because that height seemed to suggest a big room and was green, my favourite colour. Secondly, I never sleep in the buff considering the fact that I was the only girl in a family of four other males. I had four older brothers who hardly ever clean up after themselves. Maybe I was still half-asleep then, hence half-dreaming.

Pursing my lips and pushing the weirdness aside momentarily, I sat up then, stretching my hands over my head and yawning. Then my eyes widened and I froze, when I realised that I was not in my room at all. My family would never be able to afford that stereo set, that flat-screen television and all those game consoles. I seemed to be in a boy's room.

Oh my God. What did I do last night? I could have sworn I remembered falling asleep in my own bed. If my brothers found out... Then I looked down on my body, fearing the worst.

Except that the worst was not the worst I had pictured in mind. My boobs had disappeared and I was as flat as... a boy. I looked under the covers and promptly screamed, only the voice that came out from my mouth was male.

I heard footsteps rush up stairs. By the time the door flew open to reveal a plump, matronly-looking woman with hair coming loose from her bun and stains on her flowery apron, I was pinching myself very hard and howling in pain as tears sprang to my eyes. I was wide awake now.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"I-I-I'm...naked!" I squeaked out.

"Yes... you are," she appeared slightly bewildered.

"I have a penis!" I stammered, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Well, you are the young master of the household," she gave me a strange look. "Are you okay, Theodore?"

"Who are you?" I blurted.

She walked into the room then, and felt my forehead for a temperature, full-blown confusion and worry on her face now.

"I think I feel a temperature," she said, clucking her tongue in concern.

"I'm not sick," I pushed her hand away. "Just humour me, okay?"

"Okay..." she continued to eye me with anxiety. "I'm Sarah Hill, housekeeper to the Townsends."

"Wait...Did you call me Theodore just now? And you're the housekeeper to the Townsends?" I asked slowly, the puzzle slowly piecing together.

"Yes," the woman was fishing around in her apron pocket by now, probably for her cell phone so she could call the local hospital and ask if insanity was a symptom of pneumonia.

I swore colourfully.

"Theodore!" the woman exclaimed, looking scandalised.

"Sorry. Could you excuse me while I change? I remembered that I have something important to attend to," I said, wrapping the bedspread around my body and standing up. "I was just playing around with you just now! Of course I know who you are!”

"Please," I added when I saw that the woman looked reluctant and not all convinced by my forced laughter.

"If you say so, Young Master," she murmured, before leaving and throwing me a dubious look.

I slammed the door behind her, and threw open the wardrobe door. Trying my very best to keep it together and not fall apart completely hysterically, I quickly pulled on any random briefs, sweater, and jeans that I found. On the top of the underwear dresser, I found some car keys, and a backpack. I grabbed them and dashed out of the room. I went down the left side, and came to some stairs. I ran down it, and – Oh my God! A freaking butler! – arrived at a huge foyer lit by a shiny crystal-and-gold chandelier. The butler opened the front doors immediately when I approached.

"No breakfast, Young Master?" he asked politely.

"Yeah," I said hurriedly, and dashed out.

Then I realised that I had no idea where "my" car was and dashed back in.

"Uh. Can't you drive my car out please?" I asked, tossing him the keys.

"Yes, Young Master," he gave me a strange look, before going on his way.

While he was gone, I had trouble keeping my mind from fretting about the impossibility that just happened. How was it possible to switch bodies with another person? I was not dreaming... I think. Could it be possible to have a dream that you were pinching yourself and that you could feel the pain? I rubbed my arm; I had a feeling that was going to be a bruise. How would the real Theodore Townsend feel, I wondered, if I gave him back his body, bruised? Wait, what was I thinking? There was no way I could give him back his body if I had no idea how I took his in the first freaking place!

Soon "my" car, a silver Lamborghini which totally impractical and overpriced, arrived, and I jumped into with a "Thanks". I zoomed out of the long driveway of the Townsend estate, and located the correct route back to my real home, which took me a bit of a trouble since I was unfamiliar with this part of the town. I soon arrived at home, driving single-mindedly like a speed maniac, and jumped out. I hammered on the front door repeatedly, until Aiden opened, looking grumpy and still deprived of his morning coffee, which I always made, but since I was not there, he was bound to be grumpy.

"What?" he snapped at me. "Who are you?"

Trust me, seeing a huge, muscled, grumpy guy in the morning could very scary. However, I was kind of used to it; you had to be after sixteen years of it.

"I need to see Essa," I said, attempting to step by him into the house.

"Essa?" he repeated, stepping into my way.

Almost instantly, the moment my name was mentioned, my three other brothers appeared in the doorway, each with a piece of toast in their mouths. It was like my name was the magic summoning word or something. No matter how much I loved my brothers, I had to admit that it was kind of scary how they were looking at the moment.

"Why do you want to see our little sister?" Blaze demanded.

"It's rude to visit people so damn early in the morning," Chase snapped, frowning at me. "Don't you have manners, Townsend?"

"Townsend? Theodore Townsend? On the football team?" Dylan peered at me from behind Chase.

I nodded impatiently.

"Look, can I just see her? This is urgent," I said.

"Can't it wait 'til later?" Dylan raised an eyebrow at me. "You never paid any attention to our sister before anyway."

"Yeah, well. We're... project partners!" I said. "So this is urgent. The stupid project is due today and my printer jammed up. It counts towards our final grade so if you want Essa to get a good final grade in English, let me through! I swear I'm not trying anything with your sister."

The four of them glanced at each other, debating for an eternity before deciding to let me in. Each of them seemed to be going through the same sort of internal struggle; they could not possibly let their darling sister's grades suffer but at the same time, allowing Theodore Townsend – a boy – was going against their basic instincts as an older brother. Finally, Aiden stepped aside.

"Fine. No funny business. We'll be listening! First door to the left up the stairs. Make sure you knock first!" he called after me as I pushed past them.

Blaze glared after me as he cracked his knuckles, Chase and Dylan leering at me on either side. I hurriedly took the stairs two at a time and burst into my room to find myself struggling with a bra. She, or technically he, looked up when I entered.

"Essa!" he exclaimed.

"My body!" I cried out in relief; was it weird to feel relieved that I still had a body to return to?

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

I was looking into my own face. It was an extraordinary feeling and Theodore's body was reacting strangely; my stomach was twisted and knotted with nerves. I was not sure I was going to tell him what happened, considering that I had no idea what happened. I closed the door behind me and entered the room.

"How do I put this on?" he asked, a look of deepest frustration on his face. "I can't reach around my back. It's impossible!"

"It's not impossible," I retorted, hooking the bra for him and tossing him a T-shirt.

He grunted. "So what did you do?"

"I... sort of made a wish," I said, sitting down my bed and springing up in alarm again when the bed groaned in protest; it was an old bed.

"Wish?" he asked sharply.

"Yeah."

"What wish? And why?"

"I made the wish upon a falling star. I couldn't sleep last night and was just sitting there when I saw the star," I said, gesturing to my window seat.

"What was your wish exactly? What were the exact words used?" he asked, his tone urgent.

I looked up at him, bemused. "Do you know something about this wish-making business?"

That caused him to stare at me. There was a familiar frown on my face, the sort of face I made as I contemplated pouring jelly into Chase's pillow. He seemed to have something to say but was debating whether to tell me or not. After a while, he turned away, shaking his head jerkily.

"No, I was just wondering."

There was a moment of silence. While I tried to figure out if he was lying to me, he was rummaging through my wardrobe before taking out a sweater.

"Why me?" he asked quietly.

It was rather disconcerting to see myself standing in front of me, a backpack and sweater thrown over a shoulder and a blank, cold expression on my face I had never used before. Why would he look like that? Why would Theodore Townsend look like that? He was universally agreed to be the hottest guy in school, even more so than my nauseatingly and annoyingly good-looking brothers. He was wealthy and smart, taking several AP classes and being on the honour roll. He had no shortage of friends. It was hard to erase of the image of popular, good-looking Theodore Townsend laughing with a crowd of friends as I sat in the corner, munching on my tasteless tuna sandwich and burning with jealousy.

"Simple," I shrugged. "Because you have it all. You have everything anybody could possibly wish for."

He stared at me for a while, grey eyes unfathomable. My grey eyes. Then he looked away, and stood up.

"You can't be more wrong," he said.