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The bus wheels clattered in rhythm with his thoughts. Mark sat by the window, looking at the green fields they were passing. His feet, stuffed into uncomfortable shoes, nervously tapped against the floor. He nervously tugged at the short skirt, his fingers brushing the fabric of the tights, part of the school uniform, which rubbed uncomfortably against his legs. The white blouse, the hairpins. His school uniform irritated him to the core.
"How did I even end up here?" — flashed in his mind. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the skirt. This trip, mandatory for all students, was part of the curriculum, but for him, it was yet another reminder of how far he had drifted from his old life.
Over the past few months, Mark had tried everything to get back. He called his old number, hoping to hear something that would clarify the situation. The phone was answered by him — the real Mark, confident, calm, unchanged. The man spoke like Mark, with the same tone, and refused to take his words seriously.
"What's up, Emma?" — he had said then. — "You really shouldn't be calling me. This is weird." Mark tried to prove something. He reminded him of details of their life: their shared apartment, how they spent weekends. But "Mark" laughed. "Emma, this isn't funny anymore," — he had snapped during one of the calls. "Your mom called me, screamed like I robbed her. Are you really walking around telling everyone you’re me? Seriously? Do you even realize you’re making trouble for me? If you have problems, go talk to a therapist. I don’t have time for this!"
That was the last time Mark spoke to the person who was now him. After failed conversations with "Mark" and relatives, he turned to the internet. Hours of searching led him to forums on reincarnation, astral travel, and magic. He even found a blogger who claimed to have regained his past life through an ancient ritual.
Late one evening, after waiting for Monica to fall asleep, Mark drew a circle on the floor with chalk, lit candles, and began whispering words he found online. He felt like an idiot, but in his desperation, he was willing to try anything. When the ritual didn’t work, he threw the candle to the floor and broke down crying.
For a moment, he thought it was divine punishment. He had never been particularly religious, but one night, unable to sleep because of his tears, he knelt and began to pray. "God, if You exist, please give me my life back," — he whispered into the emptiness, feeling the cold floor beneath his knees.
Mark prayed every evening for a week, but instead of miracles, things only got worse. Monica became more demanding, and the mocking at school only increased.
— " Hey, Crazy, what are you zoning out for?" a mocking voice rang out.
Mark felt something snap inside. Suddenly, a memory flashed before his eyes: he, still himself, sitting in a bar with colleagues. Someone had said to him then: "What’s wrong with you?"
Laughter, jokes, a light atmosphere. And now... He was here, in the body of a girl, sitting at the back of a school bus.
— "Ignore her," — whispered Jessica, sitting next to him, but Maddy came closer, circling the row of seats, while her friends snickered, as if anticipating a show.
— "Crazy Em, I’m talking to you!" — Maddy didn't stop.
Mark suddenly turned around, his gaze filled with anger and pain.
— "Got a hearing problem, Crazy Em?" — Maddy smirked, sitting down opposite him.
— "What do you want?" — he asked sharply, trying to keep what was left of his composure.
Maddy pretended to be offended.
— "How rude. But I’m actually here on business," — she shook her head theatrically. — "I need you to do something."
Mark frowned.
— "What? Are you completely out of your mind?"
— "You don’t get it, Emma," — Maddy interrupted him, her voice turning cold. — "This isn’t a request. I’ve got a pile of math homework, and I know you’re pretty good at it. So, it’s yours now."
— "What?" — Mark barely managed to stop himself from laughing. — "Seriously?"
— "Very seriously," — Maddy moved closer, her gaze becoming threatening.
— "I’m not doing anything for you," — he hissed through his teeth, trying not to attract unnecessary attention, especially from the teachers riding with the group. But his girl’s voice, high and slightly trembling with emotion, sounded far less threatening than he wanted it to.
Maddy smirked and crossed her arms.
— "Oh, how brave," — she stretched the words out lazily, dripping with mockery. — "Alright then, I’ll just show everyone your video. How many followers do I have now? Oh, over two thousand, I think. That’s the one where you had your little meltdown by the lockers, screaming about how you’re a man?"
Mark froze, feeling Maddy’s words hit his chest like fists.
— "You... you can’t," — he mumbled, but the tremble in his voice made his protest sound pathetic.
Maddy raised an eyebrow, her smile widening.
— "Why can’t I?" — she purred, with a sickeningly sweet innocence. — "I even titled the video: 'Crazy Em tells how she was a man! Best comedy of the year!' So, do you want everyone to see it, or will you change your mind and be a good girl?"
Mark felt his face flush. It was humiliating beyond belief. He remembered that day in the hallway: how he lost control, how he screamed, trying to prove that he was Mark, not Emma. At that moment, he gave in to his new teenage emotions and couldn’t hold them back, wanting to tell the truth, but from the outside, it must have looked like madness.
— "You’re lying," — he said, barely holding back the tremor in his voice.
Maddy instantly pulled out her phone and unlocked the screen. She tapped a few buttons and turned the screen toward Mark.
— "Lying?" — she said, grinning like a cat that cornered a mouse.
On the screen was the video. A blurry shot of the school hallway, Mark’s voice — or rather, Emma’s — shrill and screaming: "I’m telling you, I’m a guy! My name’s Mark!" His thin face flashed in the frame, twisted with rage, and his big eyes shining with tears.
Mark froze. This was even worse than he had imagined. His fists shook, but he couldn’t look away from the screen.
— "I have it in drafts. But, you know, all I need is one button to make it public," — Maddy said calmly, putting the phone away. — "Now think again. You going to do my test, or are you going to be an internet star?"