HARMONY

The first thought on my mind that morning was a real special one. It really encapsulated my inner thoughts and repressed emotions that I've been bottling up the entire time. It was, of course: fuck!

Who would've blamed me? I mean, after a certain point with all this bullshit you get sick of it. I couldn't relax, couldn't sleep, couldn't live. My list of my couldn'ts was growing longer as each day passed. Certainly if this body switching crap kept continuing, my list would grow long enough to reach the moon.

My body ached as I got out of bed and I was immediately greeted with a reflection in the mirror, which was always an adventure.

Well, this was a first.

No, in case you're wondering, the first was not that this wasn't my body. That should've been a given. Weren't you paying any attention while reading this?

The thing was that today, the girl whose body I was in was Black. And well, I had never been someone outside of my own race before. I actually pondered if this was meant to be a lesson, like my uncultured, idiotic, dumbass self would have done.

I changed my mind as soon as I studied my face in more detail. This girl was stunning; beautiful skin with no acne, and stylish coiled hair. So maybe this was a lesson, teaching me that I will never be as pretty as this girl and that I should stop trying.

I picked up a piece of her hair and let it go.

Boing. I did it again and again.

Boing, Boing, Boing, Boing, Boing.

Unfortunately, I played with her hair for much longer than I cared to admit. The only thing that got me to stop was my craving for waffles. I marched in one direction before having to turn around because the kitchen wasn't there. I felt like the husband that you always saw in sitcoms: "No, I know where I'm going Sharon! We're not stopping for directions!"

No one was in the kitchen, so I opened a package of waffles and put two in the toaster. I had no problem helping myself. It was so quiet in the house, too quiet. I almost felt suspicious but I had no idea what for. So to fill the empty space with noise, I turned on the TV in the living room.

There was no basketball on, which was a damn shame, but there was still the News. Not nearly as entertaining, but still good, right?

A blonde reporter with way too much lipstick on popped up on the screen, reporting about some accident on the freeway. I wasn't too interested ever since I was Clarke and I had my turn at driving. Luckily, a new segment began, the weather.

"If you're in the Des Moines area, I would advise you to bring an umbrella and stay off the roads this weekend," said the weatherman whose name was Newt Adler. "It's going to be a rainy couple of days, folks."

I looked back at the screen and my greatest hopes were realized. I had heard him correctly, we were in Iowa.

I was so close.

My heart raced and I had no idea what to do first. The only things I knew for certain was that I was going to see my family, and that this was probably the only chance I'd get to do it.

I sprinted around the house until I found my way back into that girl's bedroom. I threw on the first things I saw, not caring that they didn't match. Let me just say that a plaid, yellow flannel does not look good with pink skinny jeans, but that's none of my business.

My plan was never going to work, how was I supposed to get home when I didn't know where I was? And how would I get enough money for to get there? That's why my next search was for a computer of any sort. I found one laying on the edge of the couch in the living room and opened Google.

Where am I? I typed into the search bar. What a dumb question to ask Google, right?

Wrong. It was super effective and I discovered that I was in a town called Anamosa. I knew that Anamosa was only a few hours from Harmony and that I could take a bus there.

My silent prayers were answered; perched there on the kitchen counter was a tan purse. Am I above stealing money? No, definitely not, I decided as I took out a few bills.

Google also provided the route to the nearest bus stop, which was a short bike ride away. The bike, of course, was stolen from the body I was in's front yard. I wished that I could've returned it, but there was no way to do that. I would never be back here to do that.

After stepping off the bus, I took a deep breath of the Harmony air. The air wasn't any different from any other place I had been, but it totally felt sweeter.

The bus left me off at Auburn Street which was the main road in Harmony. All of our crappy little hole-in-the-wall businesses lined on it and was somehow a popular hangout destination for all the teenagers. Beats me why, but probably because there was never anything going on in Harmony. Like we never got concerts from anyone decent, there was no real nightlife, and the ratio of young to old people was 1:7.

Yet all of my rage for the small town businesses was surpassed by my excitement for being home. I pointed out all of them on my walk home.

There was Auburn Organic (and tasteless) Foods.

Oh look, there was that pretentious antique shop.

Did my eyes deceive me? Nope, because that was definitely the bakery that was not generous enough with their sample sizes.

That went on for quite a while, long enough for me to get irritated from myself. Well I was ecstatic to see something familiar! Who could blame me? I just wished that I saw more familiar faces. I did see Peter Farley who worked at the bakery. Peter was my favorite employee at the bakery, solely because when I asked for a sample, he gave me a damn sample and not a crumb like the other employees did. Man, I was really stuck on that.

"Hey Peter," I said as I passed him on the street.

"Hiya," he said, giving me a high five. Then he paused and rested his finger on his chin. "Are you new here? You don't seem familiar."

I inhaled deeply and hesitated before responding. "Never mind." Keeping my eyes forward, I continued on my walk and put on my imaginary blinders. I knew that looking back at Peter would make it worse.

Explaining my whole situation would be hopeless; we hardly knew each other!

"Sadie?" he would ask. "Which one is that again?"

Yeah, now that I thought about it, Peter would've probably had the same reaction no matter what body I was in.

Wow. I really left a lasting impression here, didn't I? It turned out that my fifteen minutes of fame from that limbo competition wasn't remembered here.

My face felt hot and my cheeks turned red. Did nobody even notice I was gone? Since I was little, I imagined that if I ever went missing, people would mourn me for years and that all the streets would be lined with expensive candles. Yeah, I really imagined that scenario vividly countless times, and I must have thought I was way more important than I was, because nothing looked different.

There weren't even missing person's posters on the streets! C'mon, I had been missing for two weeks! Mom and Dad, you better have a good explanation for that.

My legs ached and were rather sore by the time I turned on to Creekside Drive. Man, I thought, The body I'm in is a total wimp! Hey now inner thoughts, don't be a heartless bitch, it's not even noon yet!

Similar to before, I began to point out and count the different mailboxes on my road. There was the Bonhoeffer's, the Courtman's, the Lynch's and the Arlo's.

My heart stopped beating at the sight of my mailbox. I'm home, I thought as I moved towards the green house with a white porch that belonged to my family. I immediately noticed the bajillion pairs of shoes that decorated the front door, so I slipped off the crummy pair of converse that I was wearing. Yeah, my family was the kind to make you take your shoes off. If you ever come over, I apologize in advance.

I tried the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked and well, of course it was. Who left their house unlocked? Ever heard of something called a burglar? And my family wasn't the kind to leave a spare key under the doormat or anything. Nope, we only had 3 sets of keys, one for each member.

Next, I tried knocking which felt so unnatural. This was my house! I shouldn't have to knock, but boy am I glad I did. The sound of my pounding on the door attracted a very old and dear friend of mine.

Out from behind the house came trotting a fat bulldog that went by the name of Egbert. His little stub for a tail wagged at the sight of me.

"Eggy!" I called in my dog coaxing voice. He wagged his tail a bunch more times but didn't approach me any closer. So instead, I took the few steps that separated us to scratch him behind the ears. The good spot.

"He doesn't like that," called out a voice from the distance.

Well excuuuuuse me. I thought. I think I know what my dog likes. The worst part was that what the voice was saying was technically true, but I'm still Eggy's owner.

"Well he likes it when I do it," I replied. I wanted to prove a point, so I scratched even harder. Eggy looked at me strangely and let out a small growl.

"Egbert!" I scolded. In the 10 years I've had him, Eggy had never growled at me, or anyone for that matter. And I was sure as hell that he wasn't going to start now.

"Told you so," the voice returned, sounding all smug.

"Listen," I began to say as I finally turned to face the voice, but I stopped right in my tracks.

Is that who I think it is?

"Nell?" I shouted. "Is that you?!"