The Switched Novels & Stories

Simon Newman at the bed side of Ava Smith, he stared at her puffy face from treatment. “Finally! I did not think I would see the day.” he said. Simon did not know that Ava had gained consciousness until she spoke. “Calvin? Where the hell am I?” She asked in her usual spoiled-saucy way.

We both did what Mom ordered, and the second we did, I felt as if someone had dragged me out and smacked me, much as when I jumped into a pool. I open my eyes and see a gold wolf in front of me. 'This cannot be happening, cousin.' I heard Marvel link me; how the fuck did we get SWITCHED?

“How many weeks has it been? I gave you enough money. If you used it properly, you wouldn’t need my help now.” “Please, just listen,” I begged, my voice cracking. “I was shot that day I left the house. I died. But when I woke up, I was in someone else’s body. I’m married to the man who shot me. It’s a lot. I don’t know what to do. I’ve been trying to reach Blue but she’s not answering. Please, come get me out of here.” The line went silent for a moment. Then Frederick burst out laughing. “You’ve finally gone crazy. You miss me so much that you’re making up wild stories now? Switching bodies? Really, June?”

A mistake waiting to happen. That voice didn't go quiet for two weeks. When I shifted from foraging to the meal prep tent, and the head cook, Reginald, called me a beast with a peeler, the voice remained. When I transferred to the childcare area and soothed a fussy babe that no one else could calm, the voice remained. Even during my physical therapy with Marcel, the lead warrior from the training exercises, when I’d finally kept pace during the jog. The voice remained.

My sleeve accidentally slipped down, revealing a strip of dark red fabric. Aunt Marguerite's sharp eyes caught it. She grabbed my wrist. "Why has this fabric changed color?" Someone pointed at my sleeve and shouted. "His Majesty once gifted special fabric that changes color when exposed to sleeping drugs." I had soaked that sleeve in the drug solution. Anyone with medical knowledge could tell with a single sniff. After hearing this, Aunt Marguerite fixed her piercing gaze on my stepmother. "Someone go fetch Physician Hartwell from the Royal Medical College to examine it."