Jodie
“Hey, Jodie! Think fast!” he said, shouting across the lunch hall.
I couldn’t even react. The second I turned to see what was being hurled in my direction, I was greeted with a milkshake to the face. They snickered. I was covered head to toe in cream and the box I was carrying now needed to be cleaned. Baylor Whitlock walked towards me. He had been standing next to the boy who threw his dessert at me. He scooped up a campaign button from my box and wiped it off.
“Vote Jodie Hart for student body president,” he read, snickering.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, picking the milkshake out of my hair. It was goopy and smelled like mint chocolate chip.
“I just don’t see the point in handing out these buttons you have here. It’s obvious you’ll win. You have every feminazi in this school voting for you. The guys don’t have a real chance this semester because even the administration has made it clear they want to see more women in student government.”
I felt the anger boiling and turning over in my gut. Heat flooded my ears and face. This wasn’t the first time in the past week a student had belittled me. It seemed most of the men in my school hated the idea of me winning student body president. Our last president, Kyler Robinson, had the entire wrestling team backing him. The guy never got anything done but he won the popular vote to fill his schedule with a free period dedicated to “developing programs and events for the student body.” In reality, he was sucking face with a lowerclassman somewhere behind the school gymnasium. He didn’t last very long.
“I am the most qualified of all the candidates on the ballot. It doesn’t matter whether I’m a woman or a man. I’m the best choice for this school and that’s a fact.”
“To you it is. Kyler actually gave people hope around here. The dude should’ve never been removed. He didn’t do anything wrong.” Baylor grumbled and left me there in the middle of the hallway. He had always disliked me, though I never knew why. It was hard for me to not think of him in a negative light too. He had grown up in a sheltered home with wealthy parents. If something didn’t directly benefit him, he wanted no part in it.
At least, that was the impression he gave off to me.
What I would do to be in his shoes for a day.
Baylor
That girl is such a priss, and she’s going to win because the faculty can’t imagine giving a student any real power. Kyler had influence here. This girl? She is a puppet for them and I can’t stand puppet people.
Jodie Hart has it easy. She can cry in the middle of an exam and get an excuse to take it another day. She can skip class whenever she wants because, “it’s that time of the month.” She can basically do anything she wants because she is a girl. Any of them can. It is infuriating. They’re always complaining about how men hold all the power. If that were true, I wouldn’t feel like this school election were a joke. It’s obviously skewed in her favor and people are only voting for her because they want more female representation.
That night I turned out the lights and crawled into bed. I didn’t even bother to change into my pajamas. What did it matter? Tomorrow was election day and Jodie Hart would gain full control over the student body. The male half of Mayview High might as well be executed.
What I would give to be in her shoes for a day.
Jodie
Friday morning; election day. I wipe the
crust from my eyes and push myself out of bed. I always feel more awake when I get that part over with. I yawn and look around my room. My eyes widen. I rub them again to get a clearer look at my surroundings. This is not my room.
The walls are lined with trophies and certificates from various sports. Everything is golden or blue. There are no silvers for second place. A championship trophy from a wrestling match stands out from of all the others. Engraved on the surface is “FIRST PLACE, BAYLOR WHITLOCK”.
Baylor
Friday morning; election day. We’re screwed.
I groggily turn over in my sheets. My face glides against something soft and furry. I open my eyes and see a black cat tucked next to me. “What the hell?” I yell, tossing off the covers. The cat looks at me like I am a mad man. As if I’m invading his domain.
Looking around my mouth drops open in awe. I’m surrounded by awards for debate competitions and academic decathlons. There are photographs of a family I don’t even know. Well, apart from one individual.
Jodie
Today must be the day I finally died and made it to hell, waking up in a reality where I’m Baylor Whitlock. The most sexist, egotistical man to have ever walked the halls of Mayview. I pinch myself. Sure enough, I feel it.
What am I going to do? It’s election day. I have a speech to give to the entire student body and I’m stuck inside of this … this beast of burden.
“Baylor, get your a** downstairs. You’re going to be late.” A male voice shouts from down below. I figure that must be our fath … his father. Mr. Whitlock. Quickly, I throw on a pair of jeans and a white shirt. Looking in the mirror, I catch myself off guard.
Hmmm, finally looking good for once.
Once I’m downstairs, I’m greeted coldly by a large man in a grey tracksuit. He is blending eggs in the kitchen and facing the stairwell, awaiting my arrival. “Hurry up and chug it. You missed the bus so you’re going to have to run.”
I scrunch my nose. The concoction in the blender looks like oily custard. Disgusting. “I’m good, thanks though. Can’t you just drive me
to school?”
Mr. Whitlock looks at me like I’ve just gone against the Geneva Convention. He pours the contents of the blender into a cup and slides it across the counter. “Be grateful and drink up. I’m not your chauffer. God gave you legs so you could use them.”
I pick up the glass and gulp. There isn’t any way out of this. I down it quickly hoping that the taste won’t be as strong as I imagine, and I’m wrong. “Can’t mom just drive me?”
Never before had I seen such anger flash across someone’s face. Mr. Whitlock grits his teeth and starts shaking. “You think you’re some sort of wise man talking about your mom like that? We both know she’s gone. She’s not coming back. That wretch of a woman left us behind to rot so she could live her life being someone else. Get out of here now. I don’t want to see your face.”
There’s a backpack by the door. I grab it with one arm and run out the door, far away from the Whitlock home.
Baylor
“Sweetheart, you’re going to be late if you stay up there much longer. Come on downstairs, your dad and I made a special breakfast for you before your big day!”
I open the closet door and see nothing but professional clothing and scrubs. Jeez, Jodie, have much of a life? The most scandalous piece of clothing I see in here is a shirt that sits just above the knees. Live a little.
I throw on a pair of navy slacks and a white top. Seemed fine to me. After reaching the bottom of the stairs I see a woman and a man giggling and dancing around the kitchen. They are playing music and drumming with the stirring spoons. It is like I’ve been placed in a goddamn horror film. Everything about this is unfamiliar.
“Hey hun, hope you’re not too nervous about your speech! We know you’re going to own it. Just stay true to who you are, and they’ll love you. No need to worry about what Baylor and those other boys will think, we know you are going to do your best to help everyone at that school,” Ms. Hart says, turning down the music.
Yeah right. I think. Jodie only cares about helping the girls at our school. She doesn’t give two sh**s about any of the guys at Mayview.
“That’s true sweetie. We’re so proud of you for making a budget to help the wrestling team get more funding for new mats in the gym. I’m sure nobody even thought of reallocating the leftover funds from the vending machine project last spring. It’s not going to cost anyone a dime.”
What? I can’t help exposing my confusion. Jodie cares about the wrestling team?
“And hosting a fundraiser after the matches to help support community charities like the Women’s Center, what a brilliant idea. The students and faculty are going to love it.”
I’m shocked. No, more than shocked, I am in awe of the amount of effort she’s put into planning this. I had no idea. Mr. Hart slides a plate with peanut butter and banana toast over to me. “Don’t forget your speech, it’s sitting on your dresser.”
I devour the meal and grin. Life as Jodie Hart isn’t too shabby. Scratch that, Jodie Hart isn’t the person I pegged her for, and I’d been a jerk to her for the longest time. I had this idea in my head that she would bring the end of all good things at our school when she could be the beginning of something better.
I need to find her … I mean, me. I need to find me. Maybe that’s where Jodie is. Either way, we need to switch back before her speech. We need to see each other, and I need to apologize.
Jodie
I make it to school with moments to spare. Thank goodness I’m in the body of a high school god. There is no way I would’ve been able to run that fast with my own legs carrying me. Baylor’s father is a sour old man. I can see where the hatred of women comes from. It makes me feel bad for the guy. True, his mother leaving is no excuse to treat others the way he has been for years, but I had no idea that he went through that.
A familiar face with messy hair rushes up to me. She’s 5 feet, 4 inches tall and full of light. From this point of view, a small pewter fairy prancing down the main hallway.
Oh Jesus, is that what I really look like?
She grabs my shoulder and instantly the world around us shudders. We seem to be the only ones who notice, but the slightest vibration scatters an array of energy between us. Making eye contact, we smile and blink. After opening our eyes, we were exactly where we were supposed
to be.
I stand there, 5 feet, 4 inches tall with hair this man had obviously neglected to brush. I can’t believe the morning we just experienced. In only a few hours, I was able to change my mind about this guy just by seeing the world through his point of view.
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve said about you, Jodie. I was wrong, and more importantly, I learned that I can’t project my bad experiences onto someone else just because of their gender. You really do care about us, and I’m sure as hell going to vote for you.”
Baylor Whitlock extends a fist outward; I think it is a sign of friendship that I’m supposed to engage with. He must have seen my confusion, because after a while of me standing there staring he picks up my arm and hit my open palm.
“We good, Hart?” he asks.
“We’re good,” I respond.