Chapter 1: Trapped in the Golden Boy's Life

So, I swapped bodies with the top student. Yeah. That actually happened. If there’s a cosmic joke, I’m the punchline. Honestly, I half-expected to wake up and find out I’d just eaten too much pizza before bed, but nope—this was real. Welcome to my life, or, well, Evan Carter’s life. Lucky me.

It was wild, like something straight out of a Netflix teen comedy—no kidding. One minute I’m just me, and the next, I’m staring into the mirror at Evan Carter’s flawless hair and skin so clear it looked photoshopped. I poked at his cheek, half-expecting to wake up, half-wondering if I’d somehow landed in a skincare commercial. Yeah, I was definitely in there. Wild.

Evan’s mom took me out to eat. My stomach was doing nervous cartwheels—partly from hunger, partly because I had no clue what kind of person Evan’s mom really was. Spoiler: not exactly the warm and fuzzy type.

We pulled up to this fancy little bistro—think linen napkins, real silverware, glass water goblets, the whole nine yards. Evan’s mom had this calm, controlled smile, the kind that made me want to mess up my hair just to see if she’d flinch. I actually snickered at the idea, but, yeah, I chickened out. Maybe next time.

I said I wanted a burger. She said it wasn’t healthy. I tried to sound casual, but she didn’t even look up from the menu. Just pursed her lips and said, “Red meat is terrible for your cholesterol, Evan.” Like I was some kind of science project, not a kid who just wanted fries. I rolled my eyes so hard I almost strained something.

I said I wanted barbecue wings. She said they were too greasy. She shot me this look—soft, but with that sharp edge underneath. “Fried food is full of trans fats. You know how we feel about that.” Like I was trying to sneak poison onto my plate or something. I almost laughed, but kept my mouth shut.

I got the message loud and clear. So I dragged her (okay, not literally—I’m not that brave) to a public restroom and joked, “Then eat crap! It’s healthy and easy to digest!” My voice was a mix of half-joking, half-serious. “Fine, Mom. Let’s just chow down on bathroom soap. Maybe that’ll pass your health test.” She looked so scandalized, I almost lost it right there. Seriously, if I had to eat one more salad, I was gonna snap.

His dad wasn’t happy that I only scored 99 out of 100. “You missed a point and you still have the nerve to play video games!” The guy was sitting in his big leather chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowed behind his wire-rimmed glasses. The living room felt like an icebox—pretty sure he cranked the AC just for dramatic effect. I couldn’t help thinking, ‘Wow, does he practice this face in the mirror?’

I gave him my most wicked, charming grin, leaned in close, and whispered right in his ear, “If I don’t play games, what should I play? Play with you? Dear Dad~” For a split second, I thought he might actually crack a smile, but then his face went tomato red. The vein in his forehead started twitching. I just smirked, flopped onto the couch, and grabbed the controller. Game on.

Later, I finally figured out a way to swap us back. Not gonna lie, I was sweating bullets, pacing around Evan’s bedroom—my bedroom, for now—muttering like a mad scientist. I had a plan. And, for once, I was desperate enough to try anything, no matter how nuts it sounded.

Who knew the top student would just look at his shoes, cheeks pink, and mumble, “Uh, I think I’ll pass.” Seriously, he wouldn’t even meet my eyes. I wanted to shake him. “Dude, are you for real? You’d rather stay in my life than go back to your perfect one?” I almost lost it right then and there.

---

I swapped souls with the top student. Woke up in someone else’s shoes—like, actually. Evan Carter: straight-A legend, honor roll every semester, and the guy every parent used as a measuring stick to make you feel like a slacker. His dad’s a big-deal business exec, always on a plane, and his mom? The kind of stay-at-home wife who could probably run Google if she got bored enough.

At first, I thought being the top student would be a dream. I pictured myself breezing through classes, teachers tripping over themselves to hand me gold stars, everyone wanting to be my friend. The dream, right? Turns out, it was more like a nightmare—one with straight lines, sharp corners, and zero escape routes.

But now? I get it. It’s torture. Every minute is scheduled, every smile is fake, every compliment feels like a test. It’s like living in a glass box, everyone watching for the first sign of a crack. I started missing my own messy room, my microwave burritos, and the freedom to just flop on my bed.

Every day, his mom makes sure I get to school on time. She’s at the bedroom door at 6:30 sharp—never a minute late. “Rise and shine, Evan!” she chirps. If I don’t move, her voice turns into the backup alarm. I never knew someone could sound so sweet and so scary at the same time.

“Evan, let’s play a game!” She loves these ‘brain games’ in the car. It’s like a rolling SAT bootcamp. I barely buckle my seatbelt before she’s firing questions at me. I swear, she gets more excited about quizzes than actual teachers.

As soon as we get on the bus, she leans in with that sing-song voice: “Let’s see if you can teach Mom something new today!” Like I’m her personal tutor, not her son. It’s so over-the-top, I almost want to laugh.

“Can you teach Mom to recite ‘The Road Not Taken’?” I blinked. That’s junior year stuff, and I’m just a freshman. I barely remember the first line, let alone the whole thing. She’s looking at me like I’m supposed to recite it backwards. No pressure, right?

That’s something you only learn in junior year, and I’d just started freshman year! I tried to laugh it off. “Uh, maybe next year, Mom?” But she just kept smiling, like she knew I was bluffing. I felt my face heat up.

What a joke. If I could recite it, how would I have ended up at the bottom of the class? I wanted to tell her, “Lady, you got the wrong guy.” But I just nodded, hoping she’d drop it and move on.

“Can’t do it?” She smiled gently, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Evan lost, so Mom has to punish you.”

Her smile was all teeth, no warmth. She pulled out a ruler from her tote bag, casual as you please, like it was just another school supply. I stared at her, mouth open. Was she for real? On the bus? In front of everyone? My heart started pounding.

She pulls a ruler from her bag and says, “Hold out your hand.” I hesitated, glancing around. Was this a prank? Nope. She meant business. My stomach did a backflip.

Even though she says it like she’s negotiating, she doesn’t wait for my answer at all. Before I can react, the ruler cracks down on my hand three times: "smack smack smack." It stings like crazy, but what really gets me is how she doesn’t even blink. Like she’s done this a hundred times. I suck in a breath, fighting the urge to yell.

She probably doesn’t know, ever since I was a kid, I’ve been a little devil—best at acting wild. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s making a scene. No way I’m letting her win this round.

“Mom! Don’t hit me, Mom!” I wail at the top of my lungs, sliding off the seat. “I was too hungry, so I stole a piece of steak. I know only you and Dad at home can eat steak. I don’t deserve it, I won’t do it again!” I clutch my hand dramatically, making sure everyone on the bus hears. I even sniffle for effect. Oscar-worthy, honestly.

Everyone on the bus turns to stare at us. Heads whip around, eyes wide. Some look shocked, others just uncomfortable. I catch a few older ladies whispering behind their hands. I almost want to bow.

Mom is stunned, ruler still in her hand. She freezes, mouth open, like she can’t believe what just happened. For once, she’s speechless. I almost want to take a picture.

“Oh my, that mother is too harsh.” I hear someone mutter behind us, and it’s like a dam breaks. Suddenly, everyone’s talking. “The kid’s so skinny, just ate a piece of steak and got hit like that.” “He probably doesn’t even get enough to eat at home.” The sympathy is so thick, I almost laugh. If only they knew.

“See? Why don’t parents have to take exams?” That one actually makes me snort. If only, right?

...

My mom obviously couldn’t stay on the bus after that. She dragged me off at the next stop, head down, grip tight. I could feel her embarrassment burning hotter than the sun. I almost felt bad for her. Almost.

As we got off, a lady behind us called out, “Don’t hit the kid, or karma will come for you when you’re old!” I turned and gave her a big thumbs up. Mom shot me a look that could melt steel. I grinned, victorious.

Maybe she was afraid I’d be late, so she didn’t scold me anymore. She just muttered under her breath, pushing me along the sidewalk. I could feel her fuming, but she kept it bottled up. For now. I made a mental note to keep my guard up.

When I got to school, I went looking for Mason Carter. If anyone could help me figure this out, it was him. I spotted him by the lockers, surrounded by my—well, Evan’s—old crew. He looked like he wanted to disappear.

He was surrounded by my old buddies, looking a little nervous. He looked like a deer in headlights, clutching his backpack to his chest. I almost felt bad for him. Almost. Since when did I ever look that shy? Seriously, was that really how I came off?

I mean, come on. That wasn’t my style. I never cowered like that. Did I? I started to wonder if I’d ever looked that awkward. Nah, couldn’t be.

I called him over to talk, but after a long time, we still couldn’t figure out a solution. We huddled by the water fountain, whispering like we were plotting a prison break. No magic words, no secret handshake, no “abracadabra” to switch us back. It was hopeless.

“Aren’t you the top student? Use your brain!” I nudged him, trying to get him to snap out of it. If anyone could solve this, it should be him, right? But he just looked lost.

“But... my brain is being used by you now,” he said timidly. I almost choked. He actually said that. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Man, I hate seeing that look on him the most. He looked so lost, like a puppy that’d been yelled at. I almost wanted to give him a pep talk, but I was too annoyed.

“Come on, can you be a little less spineless? You’re Evan now—the little tyrant of Maple Heights High!” I gave him a shove, trying to get him to stand up straight. “Show some backbone, man!”

“Sorry, I—I’m just used to it.” He ducked his head, mumbling. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they’d fall out. This was going to be a long day.

We agreed to keep this ridiculous situation a secret for now. No way were we letting anyone else in on this. It’d be social suicide—or worse, we’d end up as lab rats in some government facility.

Back in the classroom, sitting in the front row, I started to feel dizzy. The world swam a little. Maybe I hadn’t eaten enough, or maybe it was just the stress. Either way, I gritted my teeth and tried to focus. Nothing was making sense.