I begin the day with a feeling that something terrible is going to happen to me. I oversleep, my mom screams at me for it, and to make it worse, I almost miss my bus. The driver has to wait for me to run from my house to the bus stop, but I breathe a sigh of relief that my mom won’t have to drive me. After a long ride to school I sit down in my first period History class. My pulse quickens as I notice my teacher handing back essays from the week before. I’m hoping for a good grade since I worked on that essay for more than four hours, and even got my mom to help me edit it. When she passes mine face down, I know that I’m not going to get the grade I’m aiming for. I discreetly turn the paper to see a 63 circled in red. My face feels warm and I hold back tears as I flip the page back over. After class I hesitantly approach my teacher.

“Hi Mrs. Brisko, can we talk about why I lost so many points on my paper?” I ask quietly.

She whips around and looks at me, outwardly angry. “Not right now, Katherine. This is an honors class and I don’t have time to walk you through everything. Your essay wasn’t even close to the standards for a 10th grade paper. If you can’t handle your work independently we might have to have a discussion about you dropping down to CP.” I walk slowly out of her classroom stunned.  At lunch I tell my friends about my History class.

“I can’t believe how rude she was. I don’t know why she got so mad. Also, if I got such a bad grade, it’s her fault for being a bad teacher. She almost made me cry,” I go on and on, getting out my frustration. “She’s honestly always been nasty to me.” Most of my friends nod sympathetically and chime in about how awful she is. Sarah, however, stays silent. I look at her only to see a look of disdain on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“Sorry, but some of us have bigger problems than a D on an essay. Get over yourself. If that’s your only problem right now I think you should count your blessings,” The bell rings and she slings her bag over one shoulder and leaves the cafeteria.

I scowl through the rest of my day, cursing the world. I keep trying to figure out what I did to deserve such a terrible day. Nothing seems to go right. During Geometry class, I spill water all over my folder, ruining every paper inside it, then my bus misses my stop on the way home and I have to walk half a mile to get back to my house. When I finally get home I throw down my bag and ignore my mom when she asks me how my day was. I run up the stairs two at a time and slam my bedroom door so hard that the doorframe shakes. After five minutes my mom comes into my room and asks me what’s wrong. When I explain to her what a terrible day I’ve had, she pauses a moment before responding.

“I think you may be overreacting. If you take a breath you’ll realize that everything you just told me was a minor inconvenience. So many people have it worse than you. There’s no need to be so angry,” She tells me softly.

I’m furious. “Are you serious, Mom? I can’t believe you. Get out of my room.”

Why has everyone been minimizing my problems today? I’m not overreacting. If they’d

Just see things from my perspective they’d understand. No one gets it. My frustration from the day builds up and I start to cry, but when I close my eyes and put my face in my hands I feel sick. My head spins and I feel like I’m going to black out. When the feeling passes I open my eyes and gasp. I’m no longer in my house.

***

My eyes dart around the room and I try to orient myself.

“So what do you think?” The stranger in front of me asks.

I ignore his question and look around again. I’m in a hospital and I’m wearing different clothes than I had been a second ago. Did I pass out? Maybe I had a seizure and my mom had to drive me to the hospital. I’m satisfied with that explanation for a moment, but then I question why I would be in the waiting room if I was a patient. I turn to the man who just spoke.

“What did you say?”

“Have you made a decision about Emily’s treatment? I have a team of surgeons ready to operate on her tumor, but we need your approval.”

I don’t know how to respond to this. Who’s Emily? I’m so confused. Despite my uncertainty, somehow words are coming out of my mouth without my consent.

“If this is the only way to save her then you have my approval,” My voice says tearfully.

The doctor takes my signature and I sit back down. What’s going on? Someone else is controlling my body. This must be a dream. My legs carry me to the bathroom to splash water on my face, but the person in the mirror isn’t me.

It’s Mrs. Brisko’s.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “What’s going on?”

I must be in her body. But who’s controlling it? I guess I get my answer as my legs start moving unexpectedly back to the waiting room. As I sit down I get the feeling that I could take control of the body’s actions if I wanted to, but I choose to spectate for a while.

My mind goes though Mrs. Brisko’s memories. Emily is her daughter. She’s been fighting pleuropulmonary blastoma for two years, yet she’s only eight. There’s a malignant tumor in her lung and an emergency transplant is her only hope. Flashes of happy memories together run through my head and Mrs. Brisko begins to sob at the thought of losing her. My tears mix with hers and somehow I’m crying for her too.

I can’t believe she never mentioned this in class. She’s been absent more frequently recently, but she never gave an explanation for it. Shame runs through me as I remember the terrible things I’ve said and thought about her today. But how could I have known that this was happening to her? I didn’t know that her daughter was sick. I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? Despite my attempts to take the blame off myself, I feel a pit in my stomach.

A nurse runs out of a door next to me and I jump to my feet.

“What’s going on?” Mrs. Brisko’s voice screams. “Is Emily okay?”

“She’s rejecting the transplant. We don’t know if she’s going to make it,” The nurse says apologetically.

“No.”  The air is knocked out of my lungs and my knees give way. I can’t tell who’s controlling the body’s actions as it sobs, but we both feel the agony. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I scream. The world spins and I hold my head steady.

***

It happened again. This isn’t my room and it’s not the hospital. My mind races and I think of Emily. What will happen to her? Is she going to survive?

I snap out of my thoughts as the sound of angry voices comes through the walls of the bedroom I’m in. I get the feeling that this is a daily occurance. I control the body I’m in so I can walk to the mirror and study myself.
I see Sarah’s face staring back at me. I feel a wave of anger as I remember how rude she was to me at lunch, but it passes and I start to look around at her room.

The moment I acclimate to this new world I hear screaming below me again.

“You can’t blame this on me! If you didn’t get fired we wouldn’t have to make these decisions, but since you can’t seem to get a new job we have to decide what we can live without,” A woman yells.

“I don’t see you doing anything to help. You could get your own job, but I guess you wouldn’t have enough time to criticize me then would you?” A deeper voice responds.

They continue fighting and Sarah jumps in her bed and puts in her earbuds. She turns on her music, trying to block out her sadness and fear. I push into her thoughts to see why her parents are fighting, and Sarah’s memories flit through my consciousness. They used to be a perfect family. They ate dinner together every night, went on walks, and her parents loved each other. Then her dad lost his job and her parents never seemed happy after that. The only thing they talked about was money, or the lack thereof. Sarah closes off her memories to shut down my searching and tries to think about anything else. I feel her loneliness pressing in on me and It seems like a weight is being placed on my shoulders.

I’m shocked. I never knew how unhappy she was at home. I thought she would have mentioned it to me, but she’s acted like nothing's changed. I want to give her a hug and tell her that everything will turn out okay. She hears the sound of the front door slamming over her music and she turns up the volume as high as it goes. Sarah knows that it’s her father is leaving. It always is. She has no idea where he’s going or when he’ll be back, but she tries not to think about that. She thinks about how he used to call her pumpkin and bring her to the park. She thinks about how her parents used to look at each other and smile. She thinks about how things used to be. Tears roll down her cheeks and her sadness becomes my own. I was so insensitive at lunch. I acted like my problems were earth shattering, while she’s been going through hell every day at home. Simultaneously, we both decide to put our face in her hands, but she’s doing it out of sadness and I’m doing it out of shame. Once again my vision blurs and my world spins.

***

I wake up ready for a new body and mind. I open my eyes and look around to figure out who I am, but my hands look like my own hands. I look at my surroundings. This is my room! Have I gone through all the bodies I was supposed to? Am I done? I try to stand up, but I can’t. What’s going on now? My body is controlled by someone else as it looks at the clock and screams.

“Shit, Mom, I’m late! Pack my lunch quick!” I speak to my mother as if she is my maid. I try to overtake my body to throw in a ‘please’, but I’m unable. I remember a similar scene this morning. Very similar. Am I living through my terrible day again? After scrambling to get ready I urge myself to get to the bus stop earlier so I won’t come so close to missing the bus, but my body won’t listen and has to sprint to make it on time nevertheless.  

As I receive the dreaded 63% on my paper I know what will happen next. When the bell rings and my classmates begin to leave, I strain against my body and try to leave with the other students, but is was in vain. My foolish past self walks right up to Mrs. Brisko and asks why she got a bad grade. I see her in new eyes now. I see the pain on her face, which before I credited to annoyance. I want with all my heart to comfort her and apologize for what she is going through. God, Mrs. Brisko’s daughter might die tonight, and here I am worried about a test grade. When I leave her room, my body is shaking with rage, but my mind is mortified at my own actions.

I feel sick walking to lunch. The second I see Sarah, I try to take control and give her a hug, but my body simply sits down and begins to whine and complain about her ‘problems’. I internally cringe at my own self-importance. Every word makes me want to bow my head in shame. I can only imagine how disgusted Sarah is. She’s suffering through her parents failing marriage and I’m so spoiled that I spin out of control with a test grade. When Sarah yells at me after I drone on about my problems, I completely agree with her. I’ve been completely spoiled. I’ve never thought about the fact that everyone around me is struggling with issues unknown to me. I decide that if my life ever goes back to normal I will be grateful of every moment and be kind to everyone I encounter. I will try to always remember that I am oblivious to the hidden battles they are going through in private.

I go through the rest of the school day as a spectator of my own life. My body puts my face in my hands for a moment, as I had when I went through my terrible day the first time around. It is the time of day when I am supposed to switch into Mrs. Brisko’s body. There’s a flash of light. I stay still for a moment, then slowly attempt to wiggle my fingers. When they follow my brain's instructions I breathe a sigh of relief. I wipe away my tears and get to my feet, ready to take on my life with a new perspective.