Chapter Text
I shifted uncomfortably in bed as rays of sunlight poured through the window. I tried to bury my face deeper into the pillow, feeling the soft silk against my skin while listening to my father call for me to come downstairs for breakfast.
I stayed in the same position for a few seconds until my brain fully woke up. Then I sat up abruptly and started analyzing everything.
Like the fact that my room was no longer my room.
And that I had never lived with my father.
So, without a doubt, I had absolutely no idea who the man calling me to breakfast was.
I got out of bed, trying to make as little noise as possible, and slowly looked around the place. The room looked simple, but definitely much prettier than mine.
I walked toward the window, and what I saw left me stunned for a few seconds: Manhattan.
I only recognized it because of all the movies and TV shows I had watched, but there was no way I could mistake it. Judging by the view, I was somewhere in a very tall building.
While staring outside, I tried to remember everything I had done the night before and how I could have possibly ended up here. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep while reading The Iliad, a book I had borrowed from my school library hoping to finish it quickly so I could move on to The Odyssey.
Other than that, my day had been completely normal: going to school and returning home.
So, obviously, it made perfect sense for me to fall asleep in Laferrere and wake up on the other side of the planet.
I tried not to panic, but everything felt so strange and absurd that when I started noticing the differences in my body, I couldn’t do anything except accept it. Little by little, the anxiety was replaced by confusion, and I began mentally listing everything that was different about me.
The first thing I noticed was my hair. It was now long and dark brown, while before it had been dyed reddish and barely reached above my shoulders. There was no possible way it could have grown that much overnight.
That’s when I started assuming the worst: I wasn’t me anymore. Or at least, this body wasn’t mine.
As I kept looking at myself, I also noticed how thin I looked. I had a much more childish appearance now; the physical features I had gained during puberty were completely gone. Honestly, it didn’t even look like I had gone through puberty at all.
I scanned the room, searching for somewhere I could properly see my reflection. Luckily—or maybe unluckily—I noticed a door that probably led to a bathroom, since the other one clearly connected to the rest of the apartment. I quickly walked toward it and stepped inside.
It didn’t look like a shared bathroom. Not only because the only entrance was through the bedroom, but also because there were so many personal things scattered around that it was obvious it belonged solely to me… or to whoever had owned this body before me.
Without paying much attention to the bathroom itself, I walked straight to the mirror.
And froze.
Now I was one hundred percent sure that wasn’t me, even if we shared some features. Or at least, some features my old body used to have.
I moved slowly while the girl in the mirror copied every movement perfectly. She had huge brown eyes, a small oval-shaped face, brown skin, and straight hair. She was clearly just a little girl, maybe twelve years old at most.
While I was trying to process the fact that the person in the mirror was now me, the man’s voice called me downstairs again.
I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to believe all of this was some insane hallucination caused by exhaustion or maybe an ultra-realistic dream.
So I gathered my courage and left the bathroom, heading downstairs toward where I thought I had heard his voice.
As I walked down a long staircase, I realized how expensive and elegant the apartment looked. Obviously, in this weird psychotic episode, I had ended up in the body of a pretty rich girl.
When I reached what looked like the kitchen, I saw a tall man who reminded me a lot of Tony Stark, except younger and way more attractive. He smiled at me while finishing serving breakfast.
—¿Qué pasó, dormilona? (What happened, sleepyhead? Was it hard getting up?)
I didn’t know what surprised me more: how unbelievably real all of this felt or the fact that he was speaking to me in Spanish… with an Argentine accent.
Since I had already started convincing myself this was a dream, I simply sat down and began eating what he had prepared. He looked at me, amused, before speaking again with a sarcastic tone.
—Nunca un “buen día, papá”, ¿no? (Never a “good morning, dad,” huh?)*
While I finished devouring the pancakes and practically chugged the coffee in one sip, I silently thanked him for answering one of my biggest questions: what exactly our relationship was.
It would’ve been incredibly awkward if I had called him “dad” only to find out he was actually my uncle or something.
Well… at least I could experience what it felt like to have a present father for a few moments, even if it was only in a dream.
Yeah. Kind of depressing.
He simply shook his head before sitting down across from me. We stayed in silence for a while until he spoke again.
—¿Te gustaría que salgamos a recorrer la ciudad? Casi no vimos nada por toda la mudanza. (Would you like us to go explore the city? We barely saw anything because of the move.)
I didn’t know what made me happier: the fact that every time he spoke he answered another one of my questions, or the chance to actually explore Manhattan.
I nodded immediately.
—Sí, estaría bien. (Yeah, that’d be nice.)
At that moment, I still had no idea how short-lived that calm would be… or that my life was about to take an even bigger turn than it already had.