A woman with a plan

You make your way back to Ms. Bickler's desk. It takes only a second before you find her, or rather your, purse. Another second of rummaging and you have found her phone. You pause to recollect your phone number, not having called yourself much before, then dial.

You listen as the phone rings, waiting to connect to yourself, or Ms. Bickler in your body, or anyone. Pushing away fears of losing yourself forever, you calm your breathing as the line connects. You listen as your old voice prompts you to leave a message. Great.

When the voicemail beeps, you stumble through leaving a message. "Um, hi, Mikey, this is Ms. Bickler. I was just calling to say," you pause, lost for how to explain things, "You left your textbook in class. It's really important that you get that back. Call me, text me, just get a hold of me." You can't help but think that at some point the real you is going to hear that message and snicker at the last part.

Then you look down at your new body. If you would snicker at your teacher telling you to get a hold of her body, there wasn't much stopping you now.

You push away those thoughts for now. First you need to get out of school. Then you need to try and come up with some idea of what happened, or how to fix it. Then, maybe, you can take advantage of the situation. You grab your purse, toss your phone in it, and get your car keys.

As you exit the classroom, and the school, you somehow know what car Ms. Bickler drives, and where it's parked. That scares you more than a little as you fear she may be trapped in with your consciousness. You find yourself thinking questions to her as you make way to her vehicle.

Inside the car you're almost certain that you are all alone in her mind and body. In fact, you're certain that it's just your mind, but you seem to know things she would. You hesitate for a second trying to summon up memories from her past. After a second it's clear that whatever is happening doesn't work that way. You seem to be able to know things she would, as needed, but can't access anything from her mind or memories.

Putting the car in gear, you head towards her house. During the drive, you can't completely convince yourself that you aren't dreaming. You seem to know that Ms. Bickler lives alone, so at least you don't have to worry about acting normal in front of a husband or roommate.

After a good fifteen minutes you are parked in your teacher's driveway. You pause to click the button for her garage door opener, then pull into the garage. You're not exactly in the mood to be bothered with neighbors. Once the car is parked you close the garage door and head inside the house.