NIFTY NELL

I watched Campbell leave until she became nothing more than a simple silhouette in the morning sun. Meanwhile, my mom wandered back inside the house, satisfied that all of her issues had been dealt with.

Little did she know that not everything had been tucked away or wrapped up with a frilly bow. Because I was still here.

My thumb traced over the wallet in my hand, and nagging feelings started to creep inside my mind.

While it was an almost decent move to make (considering the circumstances) to give Campbell back the money I stole from her house, plus some extra to get home, I could still add the fact that I was a thief to my resumé.

But who said I couldn't reprimand the situation? I paid back Campbell, so that meant that I could pay back the Harmony Diner for the meal I had; I could pay back Brandi for gas.

Today was payback day.

As I started to walk down Creekside Drive, large gray clouds blanketed the sky. It wasn't clear if the sun was there.

The walk from my house to the diner was quite a lengthy one, so I had time to process everything that was going on.

Was I really going out of my way to repay Brandi Schumann? That wasn't very 'Sadielike', but then again, maybe that was a good thing. After seeing Imposter Sadie and just what she was like, it couldn't hurt to drift apart from the ol' Sadie norm.

As the pebbles in the parking lot crunched and scattered underneath Nell's shoes, I stopped in front of the Crimson Cafe. It was early, so the place was empty, except for a man wiping down tables. Peeking my head through the door, my arrival to the restaurant was signaled by the jingle of the bell.

The man who was wiping tables lifted his head. "Table or booth?" he asked.

I cracked my knuckles on one hand, while the other patted my wallet in my pocket, as if I was worried that someone had stolen it. "Uh...neither," I said.

He threw down his cloth onto the table and strolled on over to me. "Then what can I do for you?"

I cleared my throat. Was I actually nervous to do this? I stuffed my hand into my pocket, and retrieved a fistful of cash. With the man eyeing me, I counted the money. "This is...$15," I said.

"Okay."

"This covers the cost of my meal yesterday, plus a tip for the service. Sorry I didn't pay it then."

The man pocketed the money himself. "Great, glad everything is being sorted out."

"I'm also kind of looking for someone."

His dark eyebrows raised. "You gotta make this a little easier for me, kid. Who are you looking for?"

"Brandi? Is she here?"

He shook his head and retreated back to the table to go fetch his cloth. "Nope," he said as he turned back to me. "She isn't on the schedule."

I drilled the toe of my sneaker into the green carpeted floor of the diner. "Do you know where I can find her?"

The man sighed as he started on his next table. "I don't know, her house? Have you tried there?"

No, in fact I have not.

I restrained myself from asking this man any more questions. "Thank you," I mumbled, marching my way back outside the restaurant.

Before I set off to Brandi's house, I gave one more glance up to the sky. I was most likely stalling by doing so, but I was transfixed at how dark it was. Was that a bad omen?

When the man who had been wiping tables eyed me from inside the diner, I bolted away, sending pebbles straight up into the air as I ran off.

Sure, I knew where Brandi lived, though I had only been to her house once before. It was back when she was still fresh in town and she invited our entire grade to her birthday party. While everyone gushed over her and her newness, Nell and I kept to ourselves in the corner.

I would imagine that learning that I hadn't been invited over to Brandi's house since then wouldn't be a surprise.

Out of breath, I panted by the Schumann's mailbox. Their house was a small one story building by itself on a large piece of land. It was also in true need of a makeover. Shingles were falling off the roof, and weeds were as tall as the windows.

After recovering from my run over, I knocked a few times on the wooden door, earning myself a few splinters in the process. Looking into the dirty windows, I spotted Brandi on her couch and tapped on the window pane.

She jumped at the noise and whipped her head over toward the window. When I gave her a weak wave, she pulled herself off the couch to open the door, but only wide enough for her to stick her neck out. "Nell? What brings you here?"

Behind my back, I cracked my knuckles. "I have something for you," I said.

Her eyebrows raised and I pulled out a jumble of crumpled up bills from my wallet.

Her eyes narrowed. "What's this?"

"I'm paying you back," I said. "It's gas money."

Brandi's eyes danced from the bills to my face. "You mean, driving your friend home at the cafe?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes, I do."

Her eyes finally on a resting place: my face.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but you deserve something in return. I hope that it's all right that you're getting this a little late."

She took the money from my hands with caution, as if I she was expecting me to snatch it back and laugh in her face. But I did no such thing.

Swinging the door open wider, Brandi pocketed the money and glanced past me.

"I don't see your car," she said, "did you walk here?"

"Yeah, gotta get that exercise in, you know?"

I don't think I'll ever get behind the wheel again.

She smiled. "I don't think you're interested in standing out in the rain, are you? You wanna come in?"

"If you don't mind," I said, as polite as I could possibly muster out.

As Brandi led me inside, I noticed that the interior of her home imitated the exterior. It was just as run down. Dirty dishes were stacked up in the sink and there were dozens of paper balls on the floor.

She adjusted her pink shirt. "Sorry for the mess," she said, "I wasn't expecting company."

I hopscotched over a paper ball beside the welcome mat. "Not a problem," I said. "What's it for?"

Brandi plopped down on to the sofa. "The paper balls? Oh, they're a few doodles of mine," she said, "I've been brainstorming all day."

"For?" I took a seat on the other side of the beige couch, making myself as small as possible.

"My comic book," she said, smiling wide. "I just got into all these comics, and now I want to make my own. Problem is that I don't have any ideas."

I played with my fingers. "That's pretty neat. Not the not having ideas part, but the whole comic thing."

"Right? Are you into comics?"

"Uh, yes. Some," I lied.

"You are? That's so great. Which ones? Do I know them?"

"Uh, you know the one about the guy..."

Her eyes widened with each word out of my mouth. "Go on..."

"He...fights crime and...lives...in a sewer?"

"Are you talking about the Ninja Turtles?" Brandi asked.

Oh shit, am I?

With my cheeks feeling hot, I nodded my head. "Uh-uh. That's my favorite comic book series."

It was draining for me to pretend to care about comics, but if Brandi enjoyed the subject, I would oblige and keep up the gimmick. It wasn't hurting anyone for once.

Was this the single day of being nice I'd had since I started switching bodies? If so, it wasn't as swell as it should have been. After all, the money I had given to Campbell, the Crimson Cafe, and to Brandi had been taken from them in the first place.

"You're being awfully quiet," Brandi said to me. "Is there something wrong?"

"I've just been thinking...about body switching."

She pulled up her legs onto the couch. "Body switching?"

I nodded. "Weird, huh?"

"I wouldn't call it weird. I'd say it's fascinating. Tell me more."

My heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

"Mmhmm."

"Well, I was just thinking about a girl who would, out of the blue, start to wake up in other people's bodies."

Brandi inched closer to me on the sofa. "And then what?"

"After weeks of changing bodies, she is homesick and lonely, and so she desperately tries to get home," I said, "But on the day that she's made it, she'd suddenly finds an imposter in her original self, and the next day, herself in her best friend's body."

With my head to the ground, I stared at my hands.

"Wow," Brandi said, "that sounds amazing, like a superhero or something!"

My eyes fell back on Brandi. "You think?"

"Yeah, I do! You must really be a fan of comic books, because your idea would make a great one. I can see her as a superhero."

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. "But would she actually be a superhero? To me, she sounds miserable."

"Maybe at first, but we can change that," she said. "Our heroine could be a teenage crime fighter, like the ninja turtles, and be able to control people by entering their bodies, which would be unique to herself."

"But," I said, scooting myself to the edge of the sofa. "I envisioned that she wouldn't be able to switch bodies at will."

She shook her head. "Well, there's nothing wrong with a little edits here and there. Trust me, this superhero is going to be a real showstopper."

"If you say so."

Part of me felt a little nauseous at her words. I knew that I wasn't a superhero, but there was something strange going on with me that Brandi considered to be a power. And if it was a power, then I knew that I hadn't been using for good lately.

But look at yourself, you're changing that.

• • • •

It was twenty minutes or so later when our super creation was born. With colored pencils and notebook paper, Brandi had sketched her vision several times. Once or twice, she crumpled the page up and tossed it away, so I gulped just at the idea of offering her suggestions for the character.

Brandi completed one drawing of our superhero, adding ninja stars and nunchucks to her ensemble. "She's missing something," she said.

I had to laugh; with me looking at the hero, she sure seemed like she wasn't missing a thing. She had to be the total package.

"You know," Brandi continued. "She could use a tragic backstory that could factor in to why she fights crime. I mean, all other superheroes have that. What should it be?"

"I don't know."

"Dead parents?" she suggested.

"I don't know."

"Yeah," she said. "I agree. It's kind of cliché, don't you think? We should go with something else."

Brandi stared up at the ceiling, bouncing her pencil up and down in her hand. "Our heroine needs a reason to fight. Do you have any ideas?"

I felt a pang in my chest. "Why would she need one?"

She looked back down at me. "The way you put it made it seem like changing bodies was the worst thing to have ever happened to our heroine. So why shouldn't she give up and just say goodbye to her old lifestyle forever?"

Speaking became hard and I felt like I was underneath a warm spotlight. Was there something in particular that I was doing to get back in my own body? Was I being productive at all?

Brandi waved her hand in front of my face. "You seem spacey, Nell. You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, stuttering over my words. "I just can't think of our heroine's reason to fight."

"Well, there has to be a reason why she's made it this far. What is that reason?"

"I don't know," I said a bit louder.

"You don't have a reason in mind?" she asked, looking back down at her drawing. "Well, our heroine needs one."

My teeth clenched inside my mouth. "Maybe you're being a little insensitive," I said, choosing my words with caution.

"Me? Insensitive? How?"

"Not everything is clear cut, Brandi. Not everybody has a tragic backstory or an obvious reason to fight."

"Everybody has a reason to fight," she argued. "How else would anything get done?"

"Well, some of us just want things to go back to the way they were, or-"

Brandi scoffed. "That's a super lazy thing to say," she said, "and I know that our heroine is not lazy."

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

To be as honest as possible, it hurt a bit that this heroine was based off of my situation, yet was close to perfect. I wasn't heroic like her; I hadn't even tried to be. In fact, I had been the opposite; I had been the villain. Destroying people's lives had come naturally to me.

I could almost feel tears forming in my eyes just thinking about the subject. Only babies would get worked up over this. My and Brandi's hero wouldn't shed a single tear because she was better than me in every fathomable way.

I was a big baby, I was childish, I was bitchy, I was nasty, I was even murderous at times, all of that made me Sadie, but that wasn't a good thing. This entire time I had been stressed over preserving my identity, whereas being Sadie Arlo had been the issue. I just wasn't nice.

Brandi gave me a smile accompanied by a pat on the shoulder. "It's alright. We don't have to be this emotional about this. We ought to think practically."

"Right." I nodded my head, using my sleeves to dry around my eyes.

A second later, a phone buzzed on my leg. I scoured for the source, patting myself all over the pair of pants that Nell had put on last night.

Once I found her phone, a text message popped up on the bright screen.

Nell, it's time to come home. You didn't do your chores today.

-Dad

I frowned at the message and looked back up at Brandi. "Uh, I have to get home," I said. Stuffing the phone back into my pocket, I pushed myself up from off the couch.

"You're not walking, are you?"

"Well, I walked here, so it'll be fine if I walk back."

"No way," Brandi said. "The weather's awful. You'll just be soaked. I'll drive you home."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's no problem at all. Had nothing to do today anyway."

She collected all her sketches of our heroine and stacked them into a neat pile. Handing them off to me to look after, she grabbed her keys and her coat and headed for the front door.

Soon I found myself in Brandi's rusty blue truck, blaring pop music on the radio as rain splattered across the window.

"You can hold onto those," she said, gesturing towards the sketches. "And maybe when you get some free time you can brainstorm some more."

I nodded my head along with the radio, thinking of a way I could possibly continue this project with Brandi. Any way that I could think of involved revealing the truth to her, but that would just get me labeled as a freak or liar, and she'd lose interest in working with me.

I stared at the papers on my lap as an idea came to mind. Although I couldn't work on this comic idea any more, maybe Nell could.

The real Nell.

Twisting myself away from Brandi, I uncapped a pen and in small letters, constructed a note to Nell.

'Nell, you need to work on this project with Brandi some more. It doesn't matter on what Sadie has led you to believe about her. She's been misjudged. She is a very sweet person and she should be cut some slack. I know that she can be a true friend to you, Nell. It also doesn't matter what Sadie thinks about this either, we shouldn't let silly rivalries get in the way of creating something amazing. This will be great.'

As I finished writing, Brandi pulled her truck up in front of Nell's house on Creekside Drive.

"Wait. Before you go," she said.

My hand paused on the door handle.

"I was thinking about names for our heroine," she continued. "What do you think about Nifty Nell?"

I turned my head back her way. "Why Nell? Why after...me?"

Brandi gave me another smile. "You're the one who came up with the concept of body switching, and I don't want to take all the credit. And besides, creators tend to leave bits of themselves in their work, this can be yours."

Without me even realizing it, I was returning her smile. "Nifty Nell, I like that."