Categories > Books > Outsiders > Identity Crisis
Identity Crisis
One
I went to sleep in a rather good mood that night. I had proven my theory that you could run perfectly well during a normal day with no sleep at all and I was out like a light the moment I got comfortable. My last thought was "What am I gonna do with a hundred bucks anyway?"
The date when I went to bed that night was June 10th, 2006 at 9:49 P.M. The first days of summer vacation had passed in a rather dull way. But things were different when I woke up the next morning.
I could hear yelling from somewhere in the house as the sun wormed it's way through the blinds on my window. I sighed and stretched and opened my eyes, before they slowly closed again. I rubbed them with my hands before giving it another go. They stayed open this time but...
I slowly sat up on a bed that wasn't mine, in a room that wasn't mine and had no clue as to what was going on. Unless I was having another very realistic dream, in which case, I'd only be in the room for a minute.
The door opened suddenly and a boy ran in, with curly black hair and somewhat tan skin. An older boy tackled him to the floor and I noticed that the younger one looked like...well, the older one's mini-me. They wrestled for a minute and I sat, waiting for this extremely random dream to end, but they suddenly stopped and looked at me. They looked as confused as I probably did.
"You okay, Angela?" The older one asked. I noticed he had a scar on his face and wondered where he had gotten it from. I didn't know why he had called me Angela; my name was Lauren.
The younger boy untangled himself from the older one, glaring at him, before looking at me.
"Yeah, you ain't yelled at us or nothin'," he said, sounding surprised. I blinked and dark eyes blinked back.
"Uh...get out?" I tried, feeling a bit stupid. The two boys stared at me a moment longer before standing up and leaving the room. I noticed after awhile that they had an accent when they talked.
Come to think of it, so did I. But I sat, pushing the thought away as I tried to wake up while listening to yelling and a TV playing somewhere in the house.
The older boy peeked in awhile later, pushing the door until it hit the wall and giving me a firm look.
"Alright, you've been sitting here for twenty minutes-"
"Twenty minutes?"
He glared at me before continuing. "Yeah, twenty minutes. Now what the hell is goin' on Angela? You're actin' like someone else today."
"Uhm...well," I paused, looking him straight in the eye. "What's your name again?"
"Angela, are you tryin' to be funny? 'Cause it ain't workin'," he snapped.
"Humor me," I said, watching as he sighed and put a hand on his forehead.
"It's Tim, Angela. Tim Shepard. I'm your brother," he said, the annoyance in his voice obvious.
'That's new,' I thought. 'I'm an only child last I checked.'
"You are my brother? That can't be right," I muttered, looking down at the white bed sheets.
"Obviously, you aren't feelin' that bad," Tim said. "So you're gonna have to get off your ass sometime today." And with that he left, shutting the door behind him.
"C'mon," I muttered, closing my eyes and gripping the sheet that was still covering my lower body. "Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"
I hit my head with my hand and winced, mumbling 'ow' and placing the hand over the now sore area. That was when it finally sunk in.
'I just felt pain. . .in a dream. You aren't supposed to feel pain in dreams,' I thought as my eyes widened. 'Oh, my God. . .'
I fell out of bed, crying out as I landed on the floor. I was up a second later though, stumbling to the window and yanking on the string that moved the blinds.
I had no idea where I was.
The panic was starting to set in and my body was sore from falling out of bed as I stumbled to the closet and pulled open the door.
Clothes I would never wear. Ever.
I looked around the unfamiliar room and saw a mirror perched on the dresser across from the bed. I ran to it and picked it up, my breathing heavy. I stared.
A girl that wasn't me stared back.
I dropped the mirror and barely noticed it break. Where was I? Who was I? Angela Shepard? I shared some features with those boys from what I could tell and Tim had said he was my brother. . .but who the hell was she?
I was gasping for air by now. I was lost, clueless, and the room was spinning as my body began shaking and my vision tunneled in. I felt myself hit the floor as everything shut down.
xxxx
"Angela? Angela, get up and off the fuckin' floor," a voice snapped, shaking my shoulder.
"Hey Tim, maybe she really is sick. She looks kinda pale."
"Shut up, Curly. Help me get her up off the floor. Mom'll probably be hacked off if we just leave her here."
The next thing I knew, I was being dropped onto that bed that wasn't mine.
"She's lucky it's the summer. . .the old lady wouldn't have wanted her stayin' home from school. Hey, Angela?"
I groaned and opened my eyes. "What?"
"Are you really that sick?"
It was the younger one asking me. Tim had said his name. Curly. What a really. . . weird name.
"I dunno," I replied. "Why?"
"'Cause no one's home if ya' are."
"She can stay at the Curtis's. Maybe that would get Pony's attention."
"Who?"
Tim grinned. "Well, whaddya know, she's over him before she even went in for the kill. Look kid, I'll drop ya off at the Curtis's on the way. I'm headin' out to meet up with the rest of the gang. I'll get ya when I'm done."
"Uhm. . . can I get dressed first?"
". . . Yeah, you probably should. Come on Curly, didn't you say you had places to be today? Get your ass out the door."
I managed to dig up a pair of pants and a tee-shirt. That seemed to be the only outfit I could wear. I found a pair of flip-flops in the closet and slipped those on. I grabbed a brush, ran it through my hair, which was now black and curly instead of dull and dirty blonde, and slowly walked out of my room. I didn't pay attention to the house.
'I'll wake up soon, there's no point. This is just more realistic than it should be.'
Tim lead me out the door and to his car. I climbed in and he started driving off before I could shut the door all the way.
"Damn it, Tim! What the hell are you thinking?" I yelled, yanking the door shut and sitting back against the chair. I felt sick. "If I throw up in your car it's your fault, not mine!"
"If you throw up in my car, I'm throwin' you out of it," Tim replied easily, his eyes on the road. At least he was doing that.
A few minutes later and Tim stopped outside a run down looking house and promptly kicked me out of his car.
"Don't drink anythin' today or I'll kick your ass into last week," Tim ordered, before driving off. I stood there, staring at the house, not quite sure what to do. I didn't even know who the Curtises were. But if Tim knew them, they would know Angela, right?
I couldn't bring myself to move. I just stood in front of the chain link gate.
"Angela? What the hell are you doin' standin' around outside the Curtis's?" A rough voice demanded. I looked over, slowly, because my head hurt.
"What?"
"What the hell were you doin' last night? You look dead," a tow-headed boy said, smoking a cigarette as he walked up to me.
"I didn't do nothin'..." I replied quietly, looking at his clothes. I liked his jacket, it looked like my cousin's, one that I liked to wear when he wasn't looking. I didn't want to try that with him though, he looked pretty mean.
"Are just gonna stand out here or are you gonna go in?" He pushed open the gate. "Their parents are workin' right now, if that's what you're worried about."
"Uhm. . .okay," I said uncertainly, following him into the yard and up to the porch. "What's your name again?"
He looked over his shoulder and glared at me as he knocked on the door. "You sure you didn't do anythin' last night?"
I decided I should stay quiet for the rest of the day. People were probably going to think I was insane. He pushed open the door, nearly hitting someone who was standing near it. He looked at me and waved me in. But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to walk into that house.
"Watch it next time, Dally, you almost hit me in the face," the one he had almost hit said. He was standing in front of Dally now, a smile on his face. "Angela? To what do we owe this pleasure?"
"Tim dropped me off here. He thinks I'm sick and didn't want me home alone," I said, looking down. He was a really good looking boy and I got the feeling that he wasn't a fan of Angela. Of course, Angela was prettier than I was, so I guess I should be grateful for that, but if everyone dislikes you there's really no point.
"I'd think you were sick too," He said, putting a hand on my shoulder and pushing me inside. Dally had disappeared to somewhere in the house. "You sure aren't actin' like your normal sassy self."
'Sassy? That word isn't even in my dictionary,' I thought sadly. I was normally a friendly, somewhat flirtatious person, but I can't do sassy, or sexy or anything else like that. He lead me over to a couch and I sat down, hands in my lap and my eyes downcast.
"Hey Soda, is Pony at the movies?" Dally called from somewhere in the house. Soda. Another weird name.
"Yeah, he left awhile ago," Soda called from the bathroom. He walked back out holding a thermometer in his hand, whistling. "We'll find out soon enough if you're sick or not," Soda said triumphantly. I wrinkled my nose. It was one of the old thermometers, with the mercury in them. I wasn't sure if they had covers for those, which meant that it had been in someone else's mouth before.
"No, that's okay," I said, moving away from the thermometer that he was now holding in front of my mouth. "Here," I said, grabbing his free hand and putting it on my forehead. "See? That works just as well. Am I warm?"
Soda raised his eyebrows. "Glory, Angela. You are warm...but I still think we should use the thermometer."
"But-"
He took the opportunity and stuck the thermometer in my mouth. I tried not to gag and held it under my tongue. I guessed that Soda was looking at a clock in a kitchen while he held it in place. "Alright."
I opened my mouth pretty fast and backed away, all too happy to get that thermometer out of my mouth. Soda shook his head. "Looks like Tim was right for once. Come on, you can stay in my room. When Pony gets home, he'll probably be in his to read or somethin'," He said, pulling me up off the couch and leading me down the hall.
"I'm surprised your brother dropped you off here. Didn't think you were all that close," Soda said in a conversational way as he opened a door and lead me inside. I didn't say anything. I didn't know how close Angela and Tim were.
Soda seemed like an understanding person...maybe I could try and tell him.
"Hey, uhm...Soda was it?"
"Yeah Angela. You should know my name by now."
"But that's just it," I said looking up at him. "I don't. I don't know who any of you are. I know you're probably thinking I've lost it and by all means, you have the right to, but I don't know you. I don't know my brothers, I don't know who that blond boy is, I don't even know what day it is."
Soda was quiet for a minute, looking at me as if trying to catch a lie somewhere. He frowned and walked out of the room. He came back a moment later with a newspaper.
"Here," He said as he handed it to me, pointing to the date. June 11th, 1965. My eyes widened.
"Is this supposed to be funny?" I whispered. "It hasn't been 1965 for 41 years. Someone's playing a joke on me aren't they? Aren't they?" I demanded, glaring at him.
"Angela-"
"That's not my name!" I shouted. "My name is Lauren! Lauren Daniels! Okay? I don't know who Angela is! Someone probably thought it'd be funny to dye my hair and curl it and get someone to call me Angela all day, but this isn't funny at all!"
"Lauren?" Soda watched me, concerned. He shut the door to his bedroom, probably so Dally wouldn't hear. "No one's playing a joke on you. If you aren't Angela . . . you sure do look like her. It is 1965. . ." he said in a soothing voice as if talking to an animal. I fell to my knees and held my head.
"It can't be 1965. . ." I muttered. "It can't be. I was born in 1990. My parents were born in 1965," I said looking up at him. Soda looked concerned, but he didn't call me insane yet.
"1990?"
"Yes, 1990. . . August 5th, 1990, 4:00 P.M. in a Chicago hospital," I was frustrated now and it showed in my voice.
"You sure are a long way from home . . .we're in Tulsa, Oklahoma right now."
"Tulsa?" I stared at him. I had family in Oklahoma, but I didn't know where they lived now. I knew in 2006, my Grandmother and sister lived in Bixby, a small town outside of Tulsa. But they had moved there from Illinois when I was a lot younger. I tried to remember my Mom's school pictures.
"Creek. . . something Creek. My mom went to a school with that name in Oklahoma," I said. "She's probably not in school yet, but I don't think she moved anywhere. But my Aunt might be in that school! My aunt looked like me when she was younger-"
"Lauren. I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, but I'm finding this really hard to believe. I think you're Angela, but something happened. . ." Soda said carefully.
"I'm not Angela," I said desperately. I was starting to cry. "I'm not." I noticed my voice changed. It sounded like me again, Chicago accent and all. "I don't know who this Angela is, I don't know her family or you, but you have to believe me. I'm not her."
Soda looked surprised and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the floor and into the bathroom. He stood me in front of the mirror. Strands of dirty blonde were poking through the brown and my skin was paler. My eyes were blue again.
"See? Do you see that? That's what I used to look like. I was a blonde girl with blue eyes. Do you believe me now?" I turned and looked at him. Soda was staring at me and he had paled slightly.
"Lauren?"
"Yes! Yes, I'm Lauren!" I said happily. "I woke up this morning and I was someone else! I don't know why and I don't know how but-"
"No. . . I believe you now, don't worry. . . just. . . . Hey, Dal?" Soda called.
"What? I'm tryin' to find somethin' on TV."
"Come here instead, I need to ask you something," Soda was still staring at me, reaching out for my hair. He picked up a chunk. It was dirty blonde again. Dally appeared in the bathroom doorway.
"What?"
"What color is this?" Soda asked, indicating to the chunk of hair. Dally stared at him for a moment.
"Why? You color blind? It's black, man, it always has been."
"Y-You sure? I could've sworn. . .that it was more like my color," Soda muttered, looking at me carefully.
"Maybe you're the one who's sick, Soda. It's black," Dally said, shaking his head before walking away again. I looked in the mirror and grinned. I looked like me again, but it seemed that only Soda and I could see it.
I touched the mirror and laughed. "I'm me again! I'm really me!" I was relieved, but I could see Soda had the same look that I had a few minutes ago.
I looked nothing like Angela. Angela had been an amazingly beautiful girl. I was average. We were pretty much opposites in a very dramatic way. I realized that Soda was going through the same thing I had been going through a moment before.
"I told you, I told you I wasn't Angela."
"So. . . where's Angela?"
I stared at him. Angela must be in my body. . . "In 2006."
One
I went to sleep in a rather good mood that night. I had proven my theory that you could run perfectly well during a normal day with no sleep at all and I was out like a light the moment I got comfortable. My last thought was "What am I gonna do with a hundred bucks anyway?"
The date when I went to bed that night was June 10th, 2006 at 9:49 P.M. The first days of summer vacation had passed in a rather dull way. But things were different when I woke up the next morning.
I could hear yelling from somewhere in the house as the sun wormed it's way through the blinds on my window. I sighed and stretched and opened my eyes, before they slowly closed again. I rubbed them with my hands before giving it another go. They stayed open this time but...
I slowly sat up on a bed that wasn't mine, in a room that wasn't mine and had no clue as to what was going on. Unless I was having another very realistic dream, in which case, I'd only be in the room for a minute.
The door opened suddenly and a boy ran in, with curly black hair and somewhat tan skin. An older boy tackled him to the floor and I noticed that the younger one looked like...well, the older one's mini-me. They wrestled for a minute and I sat, waiting for this extremely random dream to end, but they suddenly stopped and looked at me. They looked as confused as I probably did.
"You okay, Angela?" The older one asked. I noticed he had a scar on his face and wondered where he had gotten it from. I didn't know why he had called me Angela; my name was Lauren.
The younger boy untangled himself from the older one, glaring at him, before looking at me.
"Yeah, you ain't yelled at us or nothin'," he said, sounding surprised. I blinked and dark eyes blinked back.
"Uh...get out?" I tried, feeling a bit stupid. The two boys stared at me a moment longer before standing up and leaving the room. I noticed after awhile that they had an accent when they talked.
Come to think of it, so did I. But I sat, pushing the thought away as I tried to wake up while listening to yelling and a TV playing somewhere in the house.
The older boy peeked in awhile later, pushing the door until it hit the wall and giving me a firm look.
"Alright, you've been sitting here for twenty minutes-"
"Twenty minutes?"
He glared at me before continuing. "Yeah, twenty minutes. Now what the hell is goin' on Angela? You're actin' like someone else today."
"Uhm...well," I paused, looking him straight in the eye. "What's your name again?"
"Angela, are you tryin' to be funny? 'Cause it ain't workin'," he snapped.
"Humor me," I said, watching as he sighed and put a hand on his forehead.
"It's Tim, Angela. Tim Shepard. I'm your brother," he said, the annoyance in his voice obvious.
'That's new,' I thought. 'I'm an only child last I checked.'
"You are my brother? That can't be right," I muttered, looking down at the white bed sheets.
"Obviously, you aren't feelin' that bad," Tim said. "So you're gonna have to get off your ass sometime today." And with that he left, shutting the door behind him.
"C'mon," I muttered, closing my eyes and gripping the sheet that was still covering my lower body. "Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"
I hit my head with my hand and winced, mumbling 'ow' and placing the hand over the now sore area. That was when it finally sunk in.
'I just felt pain. . .in a dream. You aren't supposed to feel pain in dreams,' I thought as my eyes widened. 'Oh, my God. . .'
I fell out of bed, crying out as I landed on the floor. I was up a second later though, stumbling to the window and yanking on the string that moved the blinds.
I had no idea where I was.
The panic was starting to set in and my body was sore from falling out of bed as I stumbled to the closet and pulled open the door.
Clothes I would never wear. Ever.
I looked around the unfamiliar room and saw a mirror perched on the dresser across from the bed. I ran to it and picked it up, my breathing heavy. I stared.
A girl that wasn't me stared back.
I dropped the mirror and barely noticed it break. Where was I? Who was I? Angela Shepard? I shared some features with those boys from what I could tell and Tim had said he was my brother. . .but who the hell was she?
I was gasping for air by now. I was lost, clueless, and the room was spinning as my body began shaking and my vision tunneled in. I felt myself hit the floor as everything shut down.
xxxx
"Angela? Angela, get up and off the fuckin' floor," a voice snapped, shaking my shoulder.
"Hey Tim, maybe she really is sick. She looks kinda pale."
"Shut up, Curly. Help me get her up off the floor. Mom'll probably be hacked off if we just leave her here."
The next thing I knew, I was being dropped onto that bed that wasn't mine.
"She's lucky it's the summer. . .the old lady wouldn't have wanted her stayin' home from school. Hey, Angela?"
I groaned and opened my eyes. "What?"
"Are you really that sick?"
It was the younger one asking me. Tim had said his name. Curly. What a really. . . weird name.
"I dunno," I replied. "Why?"
"'Cause no one's home if ya' are."
"She can stay at the Curtis's. Maybe that would get Pony's attention."
"Who?"
Tim grinned. "Well, whaddya know, she's over him before she even went in for the kill. Look kid, I'll drop ya off at the Curtis's on the way. I'm headin' out to meet up with the rest of the gang. I'll get ya when I'm done."
"Uhm. . . can I get dressed first?"
". . . Yeah, you probably should. Come on Curly, didn't you say you had places to be today? Get your ass out the door."
I managed to dig up a pair of pants and a tee-shirt. That seemed to be the only outfit I could wear. I found a pair of flip-flops in the closet and slipped those on. I grabbed a brush, ran it through my hair, which was now black and curly instead of dull and dirty blonde, and slowly walked out of my room. I didn't pay attention to the house.
'I'll wake up soon, there's no point. This is just more realistic than it should be.'
Tim lead me out the door and to his car. I climbed in and he started driving off before I could shut the door all the way.
"Damn it, Tim! What the hell are you thinking?" I yelled, yanking the door shut and sitting back against the chair. I felt sick. "If I throw up in your car it's your fault, not mine!"
"If you throw up in my car, I'm throwin' you out of it," Tim replied easily, his eyes on the road. At least he was doing that.
A few minutes later and Tim stopped outside a run down looking house and promptly kicked me out of his car.
"Don't drink anythin' today or I'll kick your ass into last week," Tim ordered, before driving off. I stood there, staring at the house, not quite sure what to do. I didn't even know who the Curtises were. But if Tim knew them, they would know Angela, right?
I couldn't bring myself to move. I just stood in front of the chain link gate.
"Angela? What the hell are you doin' standin' around outside the Curtis's?" A rough voice demanded. I looked over, slowly, because my head hurt.
"What?"
"What the hell were you doin' last night? You look dead," a tow-headed boy said, smoking a cigarette as he walked up to me.
"I didn't do nothin'..." I replied quietly, looking at his clothes. I liked his jacket, it looked like my cousin's, one that I liked to wear when he wasn't looking. I didn't want to try that with him though, he looked pretty mean.
"Are just gonna stand out here or are you gonna go in?" He pushed open the gate. "Their parents are workin' right now, if that's what you're worried about."
"Uhm. . .okay," I said uncertainly, following him into the yard and up to the porch. "What's your name again?"
He looked over his shoulder and glared at me as he knocked on the door. "You sure you didn't do anythin' last night?"
I decided I should stay quiet for the rest of the day. People were probably going to think I was insane. He pushed open the door, nearly hitting someone who was standing near it. He looked at me and waved me in. But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to walk into that house.
"Watch it next time, Dally, you almost hit me in the face," the one he had almost hit said. He was standing in front of Dally now, a smile on his face. "Angela? To what do we owe this pleasure?"
"Tim dropped me off here. He thinks I'm sick and didn't want me home alone," I said, looking down. He was a really good looking boy and I got the feeling that he wasn't a fan of Angela. Of course, Angela was prettier than I was, so I guess I should be grateful for that, but if everyone dislikes you there's really no point.
"I'd think you were sick too," He said, putting a hand on my shoulder and pushing me inside. Dally had disappeared to somewhere in the house. "You sure aren't actin' like your normal sassy self."
'Sassy? That word isn't even in my dictionary,' I thought sadly. I was normally a friendly, somewhat flirtatious person, but I can't do sassy, or sexy or anything else like that. He lead me over to a couch and I sat down, hands in my lap and my eyes downcast.
"Hey Soda, is Pony at the movies?" Dally called from somewhere in the house. Soda. Another weird name.
"Yeah, he left awhile ago," Soda called from the bathroom. He walked back out holding a thermometer in his hand, whistling. "We'll find out soon enough if you're sick or not," Soda said triumphantly. I wrinkled my nose. It was one of the old thermometers, with the mercury in them. I wasn't sure if they had covers for those, which meant that it had been in someone else's mouth before.
"No, that's okay," I said, moving away from the thermometer that he was now holding in front of my mouth. "Here," I said, grabbing his free hand and putting it on my forehead. "See? That works just as well. Am I warm?"
Soda raised his eyebrows. "Glory, Angela. You are warm...but I still think we should use the thermometer."
"But-"
He took the opportunity and stuck the thermometer in my mouth. I tried not to gag and held it under my tongue. I guessed that Soda was looking at a clock in a kitchen while he held it in place. "Alright."
I opened my mouth pretty fast and backed away, all too happy to get that thermometer out of my mouth. Soda shook his head. "Looks like Tim was right for once. Come on, you can stay in my room. When Pony gets home, he'll probably be in his to read or somethin'," He said, pulling me up off the couch and leading me down the hall.
"I'm surprised your brother dropped you off here. Didn't think you were all that close," Soda said in a conversational way as he opened a door and lead me inside. I didn't say anything. I didn't know how close Angela and Tim were.
Soda seemed like an understanding person...maybe I could try and tell him.
"Hey, uhm...Soda was it?"
"Yeah Angela. You should know my name by now."
"But that's just it," I said looking up at him. "I don't. I don't know who any of you are. I know you're probably thinking I've lost it and by all means, you have the right to, but I don't know you. I don't know my brothers, I don't know who that blond boy is, I don't even know what day it is."
Soda was quiet for a minute, looking at me as if trying to catch a lie somewhere. He frowned and walked out of the room. He came back a moment later with a newspaper.
"Here," He said as he handed it to me, pointing to the date. June 11th, 1965. My eyes widened.
"Is this supposed to be funny?" I whispered. "It hasn't been 1965 for 41 years. Someone's playing a joke on me aren't they? Aren't they?" I demanded, glaring at him.
"Angela-"
"That's not my name!" I shouted. "My name is Lauren! Lauren Daniels! Okay? I don't know who Angela is! Someone probably thought it'd be funny to dye my hair and curl it and get someone to call me Angela all day, but this isn't funny at all!"
"Lauren?" Soda watched me, concerned. He shut the door to his bedroom, probably so Dally wouldn't hear. "No one's playing a joke on you. If you aren't Angela . . . you sure do look like her. It is 1965. . ." he said in a soothing voice as if talking to an animal. I fell to my knees and held my head.
"It can't be 1965. . ." I muttered. "It can't be. I was born in 1990. My parents were born in 1965," I said looking up at him. Soda looked concerned, but he didn't call me insane yet.
"1990?"
"Yes, 1990. . . August 5th, 1990, 4:00 P.M. in a Chicago hospital," I was frustrated now and it showed in my voice.
"You sure are a long way from home . . .we're in Tulsa, Oklahoma right now."
"Tulsa?" I stared at him. I had family in Oklahoma, but I didn't know where they lived now. I knew in 2006, my Grandmother and sister lived in Bixby, a small town outside of Tulsa. But they had moved there from Illinois when I was a lot younger. I tried to remember my Mom's school pictures.
"Creek. . . something Creek. My mom went to a school with that name in Oklahoma," I said. "She's probably not in school yet, but I don't think she moved anywhere. But my Aunt might be in that school! My aunt looked like me when she was younger-"
"Lauren. I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, but I'm finding this really hard to believe. I think you're Angela, but something happened. . ." Soda said carefully.
"I'm not Angela," I said desperately. I was starting to cry. "I'm not." I noticed my voice changed. It sounded like me again, Chicago accent and all. "I don't know who this Angela is, I don't know her family or you, but you have to believe me. I'm not her."
Soda looked surprised and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the floor and into the bathroom. He stood me in front of the mirror. Strands of dirty blonde were poking through the brown and my skin was paler. My eyes were blue again.
"See? Do you see that? That's what I used to look like. I was a blonde girl with blue eyes. Do you believe me now?" I turned and looked at him. Soda was staring at me and he had paled slightly.
"Lauren?"
"Yes! Yes, I'm Lauren!" I said happily. "I woke up this morning and I was someone else! I don't know why and I don't know how but-"
"No. . . I believe you now, don't worry. . . just. . . . Hey, Dal?" Soda called.
"What? I'm tryin' to find somethin' on TV."
"Come here instead, I need to ask you something," Soda was still staring at me, reaching out for my hair. He picked up a chunk. It was dirty blonde again. Dally appeared in the bathroom doorway.
"What?"
"What color is this?" Soda asked, indicating to the chunk of hair. Dally stared at him for a moment.
"Why? You color blind? It's black, man, it always has been."
"Y-You sure? I could've sworn. . .that it was more like my color," Soda muttered, looking at me carefully.
"Maybe you're the one who's sick, Soda. It's black," Dally said, shaking his head before walking away again. I looked in the mirror and grinned. I looked like me again, but it seemed that only Soda and I could see it.
I touched the mirror and laughed. "I'm me again! I'm really me!" I was relieved, but I could see Soda had the same look that I had a few minutes ago.
I looked nothing like Angela. Angela had been an amazingly beautiful girl. I was average. We were pretty much opposites in a very dramatic way. I realized that Soda was going through the same thing I had been going through a moment before.
"I told you, I told you I wasn't Angela."
"So. . . where's Angela?"
I stared at him. Angela must be in my body. . . "In 2006."
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