Maya's POV
Jake grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the coffee shop.
"We're going to the rink," he said in my voice, which sounded so strange and bossy. "Right now."
"Wait!" I tried to pull back, but Jake's body was strong. My arm—his arm—barely moved. "Why are we going there?"
"Because I need to think, and I think best on the ice!" Jake was practically dragging me down the sidewalk. "Plus, maybe if we're in my space, something will trigger and we'll switch back!"
"That doesn't make any sense!"
"None of this makes sense!" Jake spun around, and seeing my own face twisted with anger was bizarre. "I have the biggest tournament of my life in five days! College scouts are coming! This is my future we're talking about!"
"And what about my future?" The words came out loud and deep, echoing off the buildings. "You think I want to be stuck as you?"
"Being me is a gift!" Jake shouted. "You're popular now! You're strong! Everyone respects you!"
"Everyone fears you," I shot back. "There's a difference."
Jake opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. Something flickered across my face—his face—like he'd never thought about it that way before.
But then he shook his head and kept walking. "Come on. We're wasting time."
The hockey rink was nearly empty this early. Just a few people practicing on the ice, their skates making smooth sounds as they moved.
Jake dragged me to the locker room and pointed at the bench. "Sit."
"Don't order me around."
"I'm not ordering, I'm—" Jake took a breath, clearly trying to calm down. "Please. Sit. We need to talk about how to fix this."
I sat, and Jake paced in front of me. Watching my own body move around was the weirdest thing ever. Did I always walk like that? Kind of hunched over, like I was trying to make myself smaller?
"Okay," Jake said. "Let's think logically. What happened before we switched?"
"I went to sleep in Victoria's hotel room."
"And I went to sleep at home." Jake stopped pacing. "But I had this weird dream. A woman was standing over my bed, chanting something."
My stomach dropped. "Victoria?"
"I don't know. I couldn't see her face." Jake sat down next to me. "But she said something about 'learning lessons' and 'walking in another's shoes.'"
"She did this," I said. "This is part of whatever twisted plan she has."
"Then we find her and make her switch us back!"
"How?" I gestured with Jake's big hands. "We don't even know where she is!"
"So what, we just give up?" Jake's voice—my voice—got high and panicky. "We just accept being each other forever?"
"No! But we need to think this through instead of just—"
The locker room door burst open. Three of Jake's teammates walked in, laughing about something.
"Morrison!" Marcus called out. "There you are! Coach wants us on the ice in five minutes."
My heart—Jake's heart—started pounding. "I can't practice right now."
"What do you mean you can't practice?" Marcus frowned. "Dude, the tournament is in five days. We need you."
"I'm not feeling well."
"You look fine to me." Another teammate, Tyler, crossed his arms. "What's going on? You've been acting weird since yesterday."
"Since the video," the third guy, Chris, said quietly.
Everyone went silent.
"That girl went missing," Chris continued. "The one you rejected. Police are asking questions."
"I know," I said, my voice tight. "I feel terrible about it."
Marcus snorted. "Since when do you feel terrible? Yesterday you were laughing about it."
The words hit me like a punch. Was that really how Jake's friends saw him? As someone who laughed about hurting people?
"Well, I'm not laughing now," I said firmly. "What I did was cruel. I should have been kinder."
All three teammates stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Who are you and what did you do with Jake Morrison?" Tyler asked, only half-joking.
Before I could respond, Jake—in my body—stepped forward. "He's learning to be a better person. Is that so hard to believe?"
Marcus's eyes narrowed. "Maya? What are you doing here?"
"She came to talk to me," I said quickly. "About what happened."
"Brave of her." Chris looked at Jake. "Or stupid. After what he did to you, I wouldn't come within ten feet of him."
"Things are more complicated than they seem," Jake said, and there was something different in his voice. Softer. Less defensive.
Was that how I always sounded? Like I was apologizing just for existing?
"Look, I can't practice today," I told Marcus. "Tell Coach I'm sick."
"He's going to kill you."
"Then he kills me." I stood up, and Jake's height made everyone look smaller. "Some things are more important than hockey."
The words felt like they'd been pulled from somewhere deep inside. And the scary thing was, I meant them. Even though this was Jake's dream, Jake's future, standing here in his body, I realized the tournament didn't matter nearly as much as fixing what we'd broken.
Marcus shook his head. "You really have lost it. Come on, guys. Let's leave Morrison to his breakdown."
They left, and I collapsed back onto the bench.
"That was scary," I admitted.
"You did good," Jake said, and he actually sounded impressed. "Standing up to Marcus like that. He usually just runs over people."
"Is that what you do too? Run over people?"
Jake looked away. "I didn't think I did. But watching you handle my friends, hearing what they said about me..." He laughed bitterly. "Maybe I'm not as great as I thought."
"And maybe I'm not as weak as I thought," I said, looking at Jake's strong hands. "I told Marcus no. I never say no to anyone."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"The text said we have to survive as each other," Jake said finally. "What do you think that means?"
"I think it means I have to live your life, and you have to live mine." Fear crept into my voice. "Which means you have to face everyone at school who saw that video. Everyone who's laughing at you—at me."
Jake's face went pale. "And you have to..."
"Play in the tournament," I finished. "I have to be you on the ice, in front of college scouts, when I've never even held a hockey stick."
"This is impossible."
"We don't have a choice." I stood up, pulling Jake to his feet. "We have 48 hours. We need to teach each other how to survive."
"How do I survive being hated?" Jake asked quietly.
"How do I survive being you?" I countered.
We stared at each other, both terrified, both lost.
Then Jake's phone rang. We looked at the screen together.
COACH MARTINEZ.
"He's calling you," Jake said. "You have to answer."
With shaking hands, I picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Morrison!" Coach's voice was angry. "Where the hell are you? Your teammates said you're not practicing because some things are more important than hockey? Have you lost your mind?"
"Coach, I can explain—"
"Explain it on the ice. Now. Or you're off the team."
He hung up.
I looked at Jake, panic rising in my chest. "What do I do?"
"You have to go out there," Jake said. "You have to skate."
"I don't know how to skate!"
"Then you better learn fast." Jake grabbed skates from a locker and shoved them at me. "Because if you don't, we both lose everything."
I looked at the skates, then at the ice through the window, then back at Jake.
"I can't do this," I whispered.
"You have to," Jake said. "My whole future depends on it."
But as I laced up the skates with trembling fingers, one thought kept circling through my mind:
What if Jake's future wasn't worth saving?
What if the person he was—the person everyone feared—deserved to lose everything?
And what if, by helping him, I was making the biggest mistake of my life?
The ice waited, cold and unforgiving.
Just like the boy whose body I was trapped in.