The Body Swap (Werewolf High Book 3)

by Anita Oh

  "It's like I'm royalty," I said as the crowd parted to give me a clear path down the corridor to class.

  "You are," said Althea. "On our father's side. He's the eighteenth Duke of Elkington."

  I wrinkled up my nose. "So, should I be calling you by some fancy title?" The thought of it boggled my mind. I knew they were famous and in the gossip magazines and all that, but royalty was like a whole other level.

  She laughed and waved me off. "Please don't," she said, but then she looked at me askance. "You still don't seem like him. You need to keep your face more passive," she said. "Don't speak to anyone apart from us, even if they speak to you. Especially then."

  I nodded. All I had to do was be a d-bag. It couldn't be that hard, considering so many people seemed to pull it off with little effort in this world.

  It wasn't that easy, though. I had to physically restrain myself from giving my opinion in English class. We were studying Lord of the Flies, and there were some awesome parallels I could've made, but it would've completely given the game away. In the hallway, Olivia Hearst told me she liked what I'd done with my hair, and I couldn't reply with a scathing comment. Being an aloof jerk was way harder than it looked. Nearly every single person greeted me as I walked past them, not even with stuff like, "Hey, fat pig, you should die," but with smiles and sometimes even unsolicited gifts. It was crazy.

  At the end of history class, the teacher called for me to stay behind. I wasn't too bothered; it wasn't as if I had to accept the consequences for anything Tennyson had done prior to my being in his body. The teacher was a fly-in who had like three degrees in Civil War history even though she couldn't have been older than 30. But she did not want to talk about Abraham Lincoln.

  "So…" she said, fiddling with the top button of her blouse. "You did really well in the pop quiz last week." She popped her lips on the last "p" in pop and finished with a little pout.

  "Um," I said, edging toward the door.

  "I was just wondering." She crossed her legs and leaned forward a little so that I could've seen right down her top had I been looking. "If you'd be interested in a little extra credit project."

  Wow, so things like that really happened in real life. If you were Tennyson Wilde. Sure, she was pretty, but I was a fifteen-year-old boy! That was definitely not ethical.

  "Um," I said again. "I'm fine."

  I escaped out the door before she could say anything else that might give me nightmares.

  I kept my eye out, but I didn't see Hannah Morgan anywhere. That probably didn't mean anything, since I was sticking to Tennyson Wilde's timetable, which he normally didn't, so I couldn't be sure of his classes in relation to hers.

  When it got to lunchtime, I looked around for her, but she was nowhere in the dining hall either. As I climbed up the stairs to the balcony where the Golden ate, people whispered and cast glances at me, and when I reached the top, I realized it was because Tennyson Wilde was already there, and they thought it was me. They were waiting with bated breath for my reaction.

  I wasn't sure what to do. What would he do? Make some nasty remark and send me away, I supposed, but I couldn't send him away when he was the one who actually belonged there, so I just shrugged and sat down.

  "Did you even go to class?" I asked him as I took my seat. "If you expect me to keep up my end of the deal, you need to go to classes and get decent marks."

  He shrugged. "I went to class, but people were acting unusually. They made unsolicited comments to me regarding my appearance and lineage. It was unpleasant."

  I snorted. "Well, I hope you didn't reply. I've just got the bullying down to a reasonable level. Don't do anything to start them up again."

  He stared at me. "If people act inappropriately, I have no choice but to retaliate with the full strength of my ability."

  I rolled my eyes. "Well, let me know how that goes for you. And remember that we might be stuck like this forever, so you're going to have to deal with the consequences of your actions."

  I wondered if that would be such a bad thing, though, being stuck like this. Sure, there were some weird things — going to the bathroom was very uncomfortable, and I couldn't really get the hang of all the creepy social stuff, but people definitely looked at you differently when you were an incredibly rich white male. They treated you with a respect that you didn't even need to earn. Everything was easier. Would it really be so bad if I had to live the rest of my life as Tennyson Wilde? Was there anything in my life that would be so bad to lose? Really, it was he who was getting the short end of the stick. I'd be rich and good-looking and have super powers. And what would he get in return?

  My family. He'd get my goofy brothers. Everything else, I could stand to lose, but I couldn't give up my family. Althea was great and everything, but I didn't need her as a sister. I needed those dumb chuckleheads.

  "Hey, why so sad?" Sam said, sitting down. He looked as though he'd just woken up.

  "If we can't reverse this," I said to him quietly, "if I get stuck as Tennyson Wilde forever, you need to promise me something."

  He shrugged. "Anything."

  "Make sure he takes proper care of my brothers. If I'm him, I might not remember them, and even if he becomes me, he'll probably still be a jerk and not think of them. You need to make sure they're taken care of."

  Sam nodded. "Of course I will. But you don't need to worry. It will get reversed, and even if it doesn't, Tennyson is a good person."

  I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

  "Once you get to know him, you'll see it's true."

  I had no intention of getting to know him, but I guessed if I was stuck in his body, I wouldn't get much choice.

  Chapter 7

  Having super powers was no joke. Sure, I felt healthier than I had in my whole life, I could hear and see and taste things I'd never before imagined, and do things much more quickly and efficiently, but I wasn't used to such a sensory overload. By the end of each day I was exhausted. I could sense things about the others, but I didn't know enough to control it, so I couldn't shut it off. I really didn't need to know private things about Nikolai. The further away we were from the full moon, the harder things were to control, and I found myself getting more and more angry and frustrated.

  Sam came to find me one night when I was hiding out in Tennyson's room after getting frustrated with my bio homework and shredding it with my claws. Apparently it was time for a werewolf intervention.

  "I can understand if you don't think I'm qualified to give advice on this," he said, sitting on the end of the bed and jiggling up and down nervously.

  I shrugged. "You've been a werewolf for five years. I've been one for five days. Any advice at this point is appreciated."

  He settled back on the bed, cross-legged. "I find it helps to focus on the physical sensations of what's happening. If you can think about it objectively, you don't get so caught up in the moment."

  I nodded. "That probably works for just about anything."

  "Yeah." He turned a bit pink and looked up at me through his floppy hair. "I was having real trouble when I first got to the Wilde's. I was practically feral. Tennyson's mother gave me this hypnosis thing for fear of flying. It sounds weird, but a lot of the ideas behind it are the same. If you can focus on how your body reacts to the fear, you get that distance from it, I guess."

  "Okay, I'll try it."

  I scooted back to sit opposite Sam and closed my eyes, then tried to focus on the physical sensations of being a werewolf. Only, I kind of felt okay. Nothing was frustrating me or worrying me so much now; all I really felt was a little full from dinner. I still wasn't used to having such a small appetite, even if I was being forced to eat stuff like kale salad and chia pudding.

  I sighed and opened my eyes. "I guess it only works when I need it."

  Sam was staring at me intently, but when I met his eyes, he looked away. "There'll be things that work sometimes but not others," he said. He looked shifty, like there was something he wanted to say but
really didn't actually want to say at all. "The thing is, Tennyson has a bit of a problem in that area." He twiddled his thumbs and looked at the ceiling, and I supposed he probably wasn't supposed to talk about this sort of thing. "It's basically the opposite of my problem, but also the same. We both have trouble maintaining the balance between wolf and human within us. With myself, I can't hold the wolf back. It dominates my consciousness, and it's a constant struggle to keep it contained. With Tennyson, it's as if his wolf is blocked somehow. In the entire time I've known him, I've never seen him transform. I don't know why, if it's a decision he's made, or if it's psychological, or if some sort of barrier has been placed on him."

  "So, if it's psychological, it won't apply to me?" I asked. I thought about it for a moment. "That could be really bad, right? Like, if he's been holding the wolf part back and it suddenly gets unleashed, with me in here who has no werewolfing experience at all. I'm going to, like, eat off the faces of everyone in this school."

  Sam shrugged. "It depends on what you believe. If the wolf part of a lycanthrope is purely physical, like having blue eyes or whatever, then it's just a matter of you learning how to control it."

  I nodded. "That's what it said in the book," I said, referring to the book our parents had written together. "That makes sense."

  "But many lycanthropes believe it's more complex than that. That the wolf is either a separate being within us or a disconnected part of our psyche."

  Before, I would've dismissed that theory as hogwash, but it really did feel as if there was a wolf inside me, clawing to get out. And there were clearly things going on here that were beyond science. Both theories warranted serious consideration.

  Sam nudged me with his foot. "But the fact that you've been able to control it so far makes me think that it'll be fine."

  I shrugged. "I don't know. He seems pretty repressed about everything else. Why not this?"

  "He's also very determined," said Sam. "If it were a psychological issue, he would've done everything possible to fix it."

  "It's not psychological," came a voice from the doorway. My voice. Man, there was no getting used to that.

  "Can you maybe try not to lurk in the shadows like a creepy stalker while you're in my body?" I asked him.

  "There was a curse," he said as he entered the room, then stood awkwardly by the end of the bed where Sam was sitting. "Shortly before Sam came to live with us. I was never informed of the exact details, but there were some issues between my parents and my governess, and my governess lost her position. She placed some sort of curse on me to prevent my wolf side from emerging. I still have most of the physiological benefits of lycanthropy, such as enhanced senses and healing, but I cannot transform. My family tried everything possible to have the curse lifted, but my governess was very thorough, and it became apparent that she was the one who needed to lift the curse, but we've found no trace of her."

  We were all silent for a moment as the information sank in.

  "Wow," I said after a moment. "That really sucks."

  Tennyson nodded. "Yes, it does." He eyed me warily for a moment. "We've kept this information as secret as possible. Only my parents, Althea and Nikolai know. Even the staff we had researching the curse were not given the full details. My mother fears that if this secret were exposed, it would undermine my authority when I take over from her as alpha of our pack."

  I nodded along as if I understood, but all of that pack hierarchy stuff seemed so medieval and strange that I'd never paid it much attention. I supposed if I was going to end up being Tennyson Wilde, I'd need to learn about it, though.

  "But the bottom line is that I won't suddenly go on a crazy werewolf killing spree?"

  "If you do, it will not be my fault," Tennyson Wilde said. "But the actual bottom line is that if anyone finds out about this, my family will destroy you."

  I shot him an evil grin. "Not if I'm in your body."

  But I had no intention of telling anyone. Who would I tell? And, anyway, Tennyson Wilde's best interests were now my own.

  Chapter 8

  Knowing about Tennyson's repressed werewolf curse actually made it easier to act like him, though I had no idea why. Maybe because I understood him a little better, or maybe it helped me get into character. Either way, I let myself settle into being him, and the days just flew by. School was kind of a breeze when you were Tennyson Wilde. The only class I had any trouble with was English, surprisingly. I knew Mr. Porter didn't like Tennyson on account of the time he'd tried to make him go mad and kill everyone, but it was different when you experienced it firsthand.

  "Mr. Wilde," Mr. Porter said one morning in class, the one time I'd forgotten to do the reading. "Do you feel it necessary to waste my time, and the time of every other student in this class? Perhaps it would be better for everyone if you returned to your usual routine of truancy."

  I seemed to always be irritated when I was in Tennyson's body. It was his natural state, and it took very little to push that over into actual anger.

  Plus, I could sense the others getting mad about how Mr. Porter had spoken to me. Well, maybe not that specifically, as they were off having a leisurely brunch, but they were annoyed on my behalf at any rate, which fed into my own feelings and made me madder. It was a cycle of crankiness. There was probably some sort of evolutionary reason for it, but of all the super senses, that one was the most annoying. I felt my claws lengthening and my teeth becoming sharper, so I took a deep breath and tried to do the thing Sam had taught me, focusing on the physical sensations.

  Teeth and claws, and a churning in my stomach. A weight on my chest not much different from when we'd been trapped in the silver circle. When I tried to focus on each sensation, it seemed to just melt away, and after a moment I felt like I was in control again. I tried to push my feelings toward the others, to let them know I was okay, and that seemed to work too. Within seconds, the feeling of tension was gone.

  This whole "feelings" thing was definitely the worst part of being a werewolf. I hated how the others could sense my feelings as well.

  After class, I tried to find Hannah. She had math when Tennyson had English, but I thought I might see her in the hall. I kept an eye out for her any time I was outside the walls of the Golden House, and the others disapproved. Disapproval was bad enough when you could just see it on people's faces, but when you could actually feel it, it was, like, twenty times worse. It wasn't even any of their business. I could talk to Hannah if I wanted; it wasn't like they got a vote on it.

  I thought maybe if I got her alone and talked to her, things might go better than the five of us bombarding her. I couldn't believe our entire friendship had been a lie.

  I caught sight of her in the main hall and tried to catch up to her, but being Tennyson Wilde made that kind of thing hard. You couldn't sneak up on someone when everyone parted to let you through, plus I had an entourage of hangers-on who followed me around like a line of ducklings. It wasn't very subtle. Before I got anywhere near her, she had vanished into the crowd.

  I sighed. I'd always thought it would be nice to have minions, but they did make it hard to sneak up on someone.

  As Tennyson Wilde, it would be weird if I went to every single class, so I skipped history and went straight to the dining hall. The others were waiting for me. They'd finished their brunch and were now having pre-lunch coffee. Althea poured me a cup, black with no sugar, like Tennyson preferred, but before I could start drinking it, my phone went crazy with messages.

  Tennyson and I had both kept our own phones. It made things easier — we could answer our own messages and just reject voice or video calls. Not that my phone was capable of video calls, but theoretically.

  I flipped my phone open and saw that I had three messages, all from my brothers.

  TAKE THE MONEY, said my youngest brother, Hamish.

  DON'T GIVE UP ON LOVE!!! Fletcher had sent.

  No, but seriously where are you, said Liam. We're hearing all this crazy stuff and haven't talk
ed to you in ages.

  I sighed. "You have to speak to my family," I told Tennyson Wilde.

  He looked up at me. "Why?"

  I turned to Sam. "See, this is why I need you to take care of my family if this thing sticks. He's got no…" I waved my hand around to encompass the entire lack of human feeling that radiated from Tennyson Wilde. "They're worried because they haven't heard from me," I explained. "Just talk to them for five minutes and say you overate and have a stomach ache and need to go lie down. Then they'll believe any weird behavior."

  "You do eat a lot," said Tennyson. "I am constantly hungry in this body, and your brain seems wired to only think of food. It's most inconvenient."

  He waited while I sent a message to Liam to say I'd call that night at the usual time.

  The call did not go well.

  Liam hadn't been kidding when he'd said they'd been hearing crazy stuff. I hadn't paid it much mind, but because Tennyson was in my body, it had looked like I was sticking super close to the Golden, and Tennyson in particular. There were a lot of pictures, and they were all over the internet. My brothers had already been way too obsessed with the idea of me having some creepy Cinderella-esque relationship with Tennyson Wilde, and the pictures had sent them into overdrive.

  "We thought you were kidnapped!" Hamish yelled at Tennyson Wilde as soon as the call connected.

  Tennyson blinked at the screen. I couldn't see what they were doing. I didn't want to risk them seeing me while I looked like Tennyson. Their heads were already full of cotton wool without adding any fuel to it.

  "If his mother offers you money to break up, don't take it!" said Fletcher.

  "It's okay if you want to take it," Hamish said. "It's okay to give up on love. And you can buy me a bike."

  "Don't give up on love," said Fletcher.

  Those boys watched way too many rom-coms.

  "You could take the money but not really break up," Hamish said. "Just be really careful about your secret affair. I just want you to be happy! And a bike!"