Morning came with the beeping of my alarm clock. Still tired as hell and wishing that Saturday wasn’t so far away, I groped around my bedside table until I finally found the damned thing, clicking it off and sitting up. With a yawn I stretched, opening my eyes and checking the time.
“Oh crap!” I cursed to myself, feeling a jolt of reality when I gave the clock a double take.
This was bad, this was really bad. With only twenty minutes until my bus came, I did not even have a fraction of enough time to get ready. What was wrong with my alarm clock? How could it wake me up so late? How could it do this to me, after I spent all these years putting up with it’s stupid self?
I knew that thing was out to get me, I just knew it.
Tearing the covers away I jumped out of bed, thinking of the fastest way I could get ready. Maybe if I just pulled my hair up in a decent bun and half-assed my make-up I’d at least look a little bit presentable for the day.
Oh God, what if Jason saw me?
Jason being the boy I’d hopelessly been crushing on from afar since the beginning of the term. The boy with that auburn hair that looked way too smooth and the cutest damn freckles I’d ever seen- not to mention his body could’ve been airbrushed. Not a doubt in my mind that Jason was incredibly hot and smart too being in my AP English class. It was like a dream come true.
Just because I was incredibly focused on my studies didn’t mean I could miss a hot boy when they popped up in front of me, and I’d been on a six month plan of getting him to fall in love with me ever since he did. In month two, I was trying to have a conversation that lasted longer than two sentences.
Which was actually a lot harder than I first thought it would be, considering the fact that whenever he said anything to me I was reduced into a babbling, blushing idiot that couldn’t even form the word “hi” properly. But other than that, I was golden and on the road to a blissful relationship.
But I didn’t even want him to look at me without getting ready first; looking like a cross between Godzilla and an original 1980’s werewolf, I hardly had a chance in the first place! Stupid damn alarm clock, out to ruin my morning and any possible relationship with Jason.
Rushing to the bathroom with half-lidded eyes, still way too tired to even function properly, I reached it after a couple of stumbles and hitting my knee off the dresser. Dropping down to my knees, I opened the cupboard to find… not my cupboard.
Confused, I kept sifting through the junk underneath, finding nothing that I owned. Where was my straigtener, or curler, or anything? Things were getting weird, and with my lack of time I hardly had the patience for any of this. I swore, if my mom tried to play some sort of joke on me, heads were going to roll.
Straightening back up, irritation bubbling up inside, I finally met my eyes in the mirror to find not my eyes at all. Not my face at all, not my body at all. I leaned forward, getting a better look, only to find my sentiments weren’t wrong.
Brown eyes that had golden flecks inside, short chestnut hair that was going all over the place, more than enough fly away pieces, and that big nose that resembled a beak I always loved to point out. But whenever I did, it was never on my face. That wasn’t me in the mirror- that was Chance! Horror struck inside of me.
Why was I looking into Chance’s face?
At lightening speed my hands slapped my cheeks, pushing up and pulling down to make sure that this was my skin attached to my face. I watched with wide eyes in the mirror as Chance across from my mimicked my every action. This wasn’t good, this was a really sick dream, this was not real. My stomach dropped and my heart lodged itself in my throat. This was not good at all.
