"Bianca" formerly "Sophie": Inventory

As the days have gone on, my new frizzy brown hair has flared up in this heat, made worse by stress and sweat.

Jane started taking the initiative explaining what we agreed were likely the facts about our situations. As much as I should have done so, I kind of backed myself into a corner by playing like this was my first go-around, a panicked movie I feel guilty about.

I have to admit, in his tall, strong, blond, blue-eyed male body, the information came across very reassuringly, although it didn't do a great deal of comfort to the Germans, who were hoping to return to their home country soon. Instead, they will be heading to Quebec as a trio of sisters. I suppose telling them that I enjoyed my time in Canada would be little comfort.

Many of the rest of us, actually, were bound for Chicago. This company, some kind of investment firm, had arranged to send a good portion of its staff to the East Coast for a month... despite the fact that the Inn books out in two week blocks only. Of course, I knew this situation was being set up somehow, but I didn't get a view of how much attention these people were paying to the details.

"I guess you're happy," I said with a hint of contempt to Don Lazar, who was sitting wearing a shit-eating grin through the whole proceedings.

"Why, because I get to pass my c**t of a wife off to some other shmuck, ditch the company I helped build from the ground up and was ready to watch crash and burn, and start all over on someone else's dime?"

"Did you know this was going to happen?"

"I wish," he laughed, "I'm just a lucky fuck who made out good on the deal. Two months ago, some chick walks into my office. Great tits, walking with ap urpose, 'You wanna make some real money?' she says, Sure, who wouldn't. I was nickel and diming it in Westchester. I asked how much, and she said enough to buy a new life. That got my attention. All she said was to come to Maine, meet with some people and maybe look at making a few transactions. Even paid for my stay here. The meeting was shit, not nearly the kinda money I thought we were gonna be talking about, and I thought this must be a con, but hey, a paid vacation with all the hot young things around... that's why I didn't leave sooner. Someone pushed me into this, not that I mind."

And why should he? Don Lazar may not have lost too many years off his age, but his body is a major improvement, getting a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, a face like Paul Newman, and a loss of that beer gut. The guy looks like a million bucks, which eats away at me inside more than a bit.

He patted me condescendingly on the shoulder, then headed off. My guess is that he's getting an early start on the new job, which is probably smart.

The details of Bianca's life were left sketchy in her one-page note giving a token summary of what this woman thought the curse had done, no number at which she could be reached, and a note at he bottom indicating "Instructions to follow."

I looked at her phone. There was no password on it, but it seemed to have just been activated. If I was supposed to contact someone, I didn't know who. If they were to contact me, they haven't yet.

James found me later sifting through my things, cataloging all the clothes, personal items, assets.

"How are you doing?" he asked. His dark brown skin caught the light, making him look mysterious.

"Not ecstatic," I sighed, "I don't know what I was hoping for, but now that it's all happening... it's a lot to process. More than I remember."

"Wishing you ran off with Sophie's body?" he said.

"Only a little," I said, "This is the way it has to be. I know that. It's just an adjustment."

"Well, I'm here for ya. If you need it."

He gave me a one-armed hug, and I felt very small in his arms. For half a second, I wondered if he meant something by that, or if he was just being a friend. It's very clearly not the time to be thinking about things like that, but knowing James I wouldn't put it past him to at least make some kind of waves in that direction. I'm sure that getting his manhood back has provided him with a certain rush of... you know.

I looked at the stuff spread out before me. Bianca had a very fine, upscale fashion taste, which is nice if not totally in line with my personality, befitting her position, age, and I'm guessing income. Some jewelry.

Including an engagement ring, if I'm not mistaken.

Guess I'm not off the hook thinking about "that stuff" after all.

"Sophie": It won't be long... right?

Yesterday morning, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a teenager talking to his or her mom. As these two were communicating in English, I realized it was not the German family that's staying down the hall. I decided to poke my head out and investigate.

I saw a mother and daughter enter one of the rooms next to James'. Before I could say anything - ask if they were return guests or maybe tell them about the blog - I got cornered by Don Lazar. He asked if I wanted to check out the boardwalk - persistent bugger he is - and I said no, I had plans, and quickly ducked into James' room.

He was still asleep, naked above the covers. I let out an involuntary "Oh god!" that shook him awake. To his credit, he didn't panic or even rush to cover himself as I averted my eyes, he just yawned and stretched "Oh, we're still chicks? Whatever. Let's get breakfast."

He made fun of me for staring at the floor, saying it wasn't like I'd never seen "a naked girl" before. I said no, but I respect other peoples' privacy. He sifted through his luggage for a set of underwear. "I didn't bring a lot, figured it might be helpful to travel light."

"Maybe we should see if there's a laundromat in town," I said, "I'd hate to think you plan on leaving Keisha your funky panties."

He responded by tossing a pair at me, narrowly missing my head. I tried to suppress a laugh and let him know how grossed out I truly was.

We found an all-day Breakfast and settled in. We got to talking, albeit he mostly stuffed his face with bacon. I was trying to get him to reflect on his experience as Keisha. One thing that this blog didn't really convey was that James and Trish - as Keisha and Robbie Haddad - were Canadians of Middle Eastern descent, which I'd think is pretty different from being a White American. For instance, I asked if maybe he shouldn't be eating bacon, and he noted that the Haddads were Christian, not Muslim, so why shouldn't he eat pork. Still, he talked a bit about what it was like being a person of color... in terms that I'm not sure I should repeat here, but he overall downplayed it, saying it was weirder just to be a chick, and that from day to day it seemed the same as being white. "Except black dudes asked me for my number a lot, but that could just be because I've got a huge ass."

See what I mean about not repeating him here?

Then I noticed someone coming through the door - Jane Li. She saw us and I gave a little nod of recognition, which brought her over. James raised an eyebrow, I guess becuase he didn't want to slip "into character," but these things happen.

She took a seat and said how weird it was that we kept running into each other, although maybe not since it's a pretty sleepy town despite the tourist season.

"Plus, that Inn is so weird," Jane said, "It's like it's off in its own little world within the town."

"So true," James said, "You could go crazy trying to find something to do around there."

"Kinda feels haunted, right?" Jane said.

James and I glanced at each other. I took a moment before saying "Did... you hear something?"

"No," Jane said, clearly confused, "It's just a weird old building."

"Right," we said, trying to shake the idea that anyone else might know something about the Inn.

We actually spent the rest of the day with Jane, although it was an odd dynamic, with us having to play the roles of Keisha and Sophie, regular people. I could swear James had a bit of a crush on her, asking about her trip to Europe, prying whether she had a boyfriend, what music she liked.

I brought it up later in private, and his defense was "Look, I'm just trying to be nice, she's about to become one of us, right?" I mean, sure. Innocent enough on the surface, but to the degree that I know James...

Jane wanted to hang out some more at night, but we still had our 11 PM curfew. I stammered out some explanation about getting too much sun. James said he'd be along soon, but didn't end up coming back to the Inn until 3 AM.

Perfectly innocent indeed.

The change wasn't triggered that night, but who knows what could have happened.

"Sophie": Headcount

Knowing what's about to happen, I've been unable to help myself from keeping an eye on the other visitors to the Inn. I can't help but wonder what will become of them, who they'll be, how they'll react. If I'm not mistaken, the Inn houses 13 people, and so far I've seen about 9, mostly by hanging around the common area pretending to play on my phone.

The first person I encountered was an Asian-American girl named Jane Li, who had spent the summer backpacking across Europe and was taking a breather in Maine before heading home to New Jersey. She's in my (current) age bracket, and a bit taller than me, but I'm about 5'3 right now, so that doesn't tell you much. I wanted to press her for more information at that time, but she seemed pretty worn out from the flight.

Next to arrive was a German-speaking couple, seemingly in their 40's, with a preteen son. This troubled me somewhat. It's one thing for the fully-grown people to get caught up in this web, but those who haven't reached adulthood? I don't even want to think about it. As the father approached to ask some directions, I asked if he had ever been here before, and he responded "nein." He appeared to be the only one of the group who spoke English, although the kid didn't speak at all.

In fact, nobody else I've spoken to around here seems to have ever visited the Inn before, which makes me wonder what brought them here. Dumb luck? Sheer need for random bodies? Or is someone actively recruiting?

I wonder what I've gotten myself into by not simply taking Sophie's body and running for the hills. But I respect her so much, and appreciate the experiences I've had as her too much to treat her so cruelly. So if this is what it takes to do right by her, well, I'm in.

Other tenants so far include a newlywed couple who seem to have selected the Inn as their honeymoon spot (sigh) and a middle aged guy named Donald Lazar. He's an investor from Westchester, a sweaty, bloated guy with a voice like Moe from the Simpsons and a noticeable tanline on his ring finger. I noticed this when he sidled up to me and James at the bar last night. When I pointed it out, he chuckled.

"Well, the marriage has basically been over for years, y'know... the wife, she's an invalid, basically, never leaves the house, and I make a lotta business trips, so whatever I get up to when I'm out of the house, she doesn't ask, and I assure her she could do the same if she wants. But you know, who wants the hassle of the divorce?"

I hope something particularly cruel and unusual happens to him during his stay here.

I used my curfew of 11 PM as a way to get out of the situation, dragging James along, despite his protests. I asked if he seriously intended to spend another moment talking to that sleazy guy, and he said no, but he hated to be cooped up all the same. "Nobody else is around this Inn, what difference does it make?"

"I don't know!" I shot back, "It could mean the difference between getting the body meant for you, the one you've already peeked at, and getting the one in the next room over, somehow. This thing can't be an exact science, so whatever guidelines we can cram it into, shouldn't we? Should we make it harder for ourselves than it needs to be just to have a good time?"

He sighed "I know you're trying to do a good thing here, but me... I'm not getting the body I want anyway. I'm on vacation. I wanna have a little fun, stay out late, do some drinking."

"Hasn't this last year been enough of a vacation for you?" I said, exasperated.

"To be honest, it's been a lotta work," he said, as we headed back to the Inn, "I did Keisha's job as good as I could until I got fired. And living with Derek was not as much fun as it looks."

"You don't say," I said, "I thought I heard you say one time that you two... got up to some stuff."

"A little bit," he said, blowing a strand of Keisha's long dark hair out of his face, "Then things got weird, and we both kinda wound up with some bad feelings."

"You don't say," I said. I didn't pry for further details.

Marc/Betty: What a family

Within the Inn the past few days, the fact that Arlene and I only appear to be sixteen didn't matter that much. That she had taken charge the first night certainly made a difference, but at least the other nine people in the building knew that we weren't who we appeared to be, and treated us accordingly.

Once we got outside, it was a different story. Two teenage girls asking strange questions got us brushed off, and by nightfall on Saturday we were both ready for a drink, but no-one was going to serve us. In fact, we started getting a little panicky about simply eating - neither of us had much cash on us when we changed, and we worried that we might get in trouble for using our ATM cards, or those of Don and Jillian Lasker. Betty Okonkwo had arrived in America so recently that she didn't even have a bank account set up yet, and Heidi Lasker's only contained enough for emergencies.

We spent a lot of time showing tourists and locals pictures from Heidi's phone, asking if they had seen these people. No-one had, and we were having a council of war over pancakes Monday morning when... I guess you could say our problems were solved.

A shabbily-dressed couple was arguing outside, but Arlene and I were so focused on our own issues that we weren't hearing the words, only the noise. One of them came in with a slam of the door, and pushed passed Arlene so roughly that she spilled juice on herself. I looked up to chew him out, but froze halfway through a curse. I asked her to give me the phone, and she grumbled while trying to pull it out of her pocket while wiping herself off. I turned it on, pulled up the picture of Donald Lasker, and held it up so I could compare the picture with the face of the person counting out nickels at the counter. He was covered in dirt and scowling compared to the vacation pictures we had to compare with, but maybe... I flicked to the next one, and turned around to face the window. Tough to tell under that bulky jacket and hat, but...

Arlene saw what I was doing, grabbed the phone and did the same comparisons. She was not pleased; "Oh, hell no!" were her exact words.

The new Don gave her an angry look. "What the hell are you looking at?"

"Nothing... Daddy." She turned the phone around so that he could see the picture of a much more clean-cut version of himself.

The man started quivering, and then bolted from the cafe, knocking a table over before grabbing the woman and dragging her after him. Arlene rested her chin on her fists and then pouted. "Great. Just great. What's the point of a new start if you're just going to get shitty parents all over again?"

I was about to say something to her, but realized there were more pressing concerns. I told her to wait right there, got up, and ran after the pair.

They hadn't gotten far, but far enough that I was pretty winded when I finally skidded to a stop in front of them so that they'd stop running. I muttered something under my breath about thinking Africans were supposed to be good at running. "Let me guess," I said, "you two were somewhere around the Trading Post Inn Friday night, and woke up new people?"

The woman ran up and grabbed me. "How do you know? Did you do this to us? We've been trying to tell people, and everyone looks at us like we're crazy!"

"Take it easy! The same thing happened to us. We're not really kids, but..."

"--but we need you guys." Arlene had caught up with us. "Now, I don't know what happens if we try to take over Heidi's and Betty's lives without at least one parent to cover for us, but I suspect it involves me going into foster care or staying with some relative who doesn't know what's going on, and Marc here getting deported. Tell me, Marc, if you get sent to Africa, do you think you'll be able to get your old life back?"

"Uh, no--"

"I didn't think so. So, here's your choices - you can come back to the Inn with us, get a shower, some clean clothes, and drive us to our new home in Newton, Massachusetts... Or you can keep sleeping on the street, maybe sticking close to the Inn so that you can get your old lives back. Because they were clearly awesome."

The two of them looked at each other - and us - warily. The woman pointed at the man. "He's been trying to fuck me for the past two days. I don't have to do that, do I? I mean, we're probably married, bein' your parents and all..."

Even if she didn't have a look on her face saying that it might be a deal-breaker, my answer would have been the same. "I don't see why you should."

"That's right," Arlene said. "I mean, they're sending their daughter to private school and serving as a host family for another girl. They've probably got a big house."

"With spare bedrooms."

"And we can share a room if necessary. After all--" She elbowed me in the side. "--that's what got us into the situation we're in, isn't it?"

I felt myself blushing, although I don't know if anybody could see it under my darker skin. The new Jillian said she figured that would be fine, and while the new Donald looked disappointed, he guessed that was all right. That settled, we led them back to the Inn.

We learned their stories as they got cleaned up and changed. They introduced themselves as "Big Dave" and "Little Dave"; as luck would have it, "Big Dave" was the one who had become Jillian. Neither was exactly forthcoming with why they were living on the streets. I don't think either put much into their letters, either, and Arlene didn't spend much time on hers, either. She said it didn't much matter - whoever became her could do what they wanted with her life. She was just giving information, not instructions.

I, however, did give instructions - as much as I am oddly relieved to no longer have certain responsibilities awaiting me back home, I do hope that whoever becomes Marc Levesque follows through with them, as they are important.

Once that was done, we had an awkward first family meal at one of the local pizza places, and then drove "home". I'm not certain, but I think it took roughly twice as long as it was supposed to - neither of the Daves had been behind the wheel in a while, neither "Betty" nor "Heidi" has a driver's license, and the batteries in the GPS were dead.

I should post this now, as my lunch period is almost over; details about my first day in my second time through high school will have to wait.

-Marc