The Fairly Oddparents The Switch Glitch Novels & Stories

Nothing mattered more than staying alive. I started coughing, hard, until tears blurred my vision. Then I pulled out a blood-streaked tissue, hand shaking. Their eyes widened—shock, annoyance, a flicker of panic. But not one drop of actual concern. Mom's voice cut through, low and tense. "System, what's happening? Why is her health crashing? Should we take her to the hospital?" The reply came in that weird robotic tone: "Unusual. Her vitals are low, but not dangerously so. No big deal—as long as she makes it to the SATs. Take her in for a checkup, just in case."

"How could this happen? Tell me this isn't true! I was with my baby the whole time. How could the nurse have switched her?" My dad, on the other hand, said nothing. Yet, his face had turned ashen. It seemed like my parents were starting to waver, though they still looked unconvinced. Seizing the opportunity, Trevor pushed harder. "Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, this mistake has already been made and needs to be fixed now. Otherwise, someone will exploit the situation. Pamela has suffered enough. We need to make things right for her." His gaze shifted to me as he added, "And anyone who doesn't belong here should be shown the way out."

For several moments I stood unmoving. The switch, I thought it was supposed to be up, or down? why is it in the middle? or am I mistaken? No! I can't be mistaken. Dad said up, was to switch it on, middle, neutral, and down was to switch it off. Then why is the damn thing neutral? Did someone temper with the switch? Of course not. Who the heck in this world would want to temper the switch? Mom and dad are still at the party; I've gotten no visitor all day, why would anyone want to sneak in here just to prank me? For crying out loud no one except I and my dad knows where the switch is located. I guess the switch must have worn out or something.

Even the bug fixes matched mine. Something was seriously wrong. That was when a voice, low and sharp, cut right into my ear. "Kelsey, are you snooping through my code?"

He rubbed his chin. "How about something simple," I suggested. "Like a power surge? An overloaded circuit near the loading dock, something that causes a breaker to trip or a fuse to blow. It would make a notice, but not trigger a full-blown evacuation. Can you do it?" He smiled, a fleeting, occasional look at his old self. "I've learned a thing or two in my day. Give me fifteen minutes with the right board, and I can create a 'technical glitch' that will appear completely random. Just a flash of it to send the guards over there to investigate, away from where we're headed."

Like someone had reached inside and flipped a switch, rerouting her from instinct to instruction. “That’s when she switched?” “One second she was herself. The next, she wasn’t there.” I tried to keep my breathing even. “You think it’s neurological?” “That’s what I thought,” Simon muttered. He scrolled to another tab. “Then I saw this.” He tapped a key. Static came through the speakers. Then a faint scuff of sound. Then the chime, three notes. The first two were even. The third was off. It was too sharp. I froze. My pulse jumped before I knew what I was reacting to. I didn’t even realize I’d stepped back from the desk until my heel clipped the base of the stool.

I say quietly. “…I’ll try not to.” “…that’s not good enough.” “…it’s all I’ve got.” I shake my head slightly. “…then get more.” A faint huff of laughter escapes him. “…bossy.” “…learned from you.” “…clearly.” And for a moment— just a moment— everything feels normal. Almost. Until— The monitor glitches again. Just slightly. A flicker. But enough. We both notice instantly.

“Hey, ma’am! Why don’t you get the hell out of here? Your son commits a crime, and you’re trying to pull a fast one?!” Margaret’s face darkened with rage. “What do you know? My son is a third-generation lucky charm! No one else would accept this girl—she’s damaged goods!” Gillian surged forward, ready to fight, but I quickly pulled her back and tucked her behind me protectively. Speaking softly yet firmly, I said, “Your son’s refusal to return my valuables is a crime. And now, you’re planning to kidnap me—a female student—to be your daughter-in-law, right in front of the police? Is that your plan?”

Clutching his bruised face, Howard pointed a shaking finger at me, "Daniella, you're insane! I'm divorcing you." "Fine by me!" I yelled back. As security started to lead me away, I managed one final swing of my purse. The blow landed squarely on Howard's head and knocked him unconscious.