He sauntered to me, holding his books to his side with his left arm, his right running through his hair.“Mrs. Umayyah,” he said. “I'm looking fo...ward to tomorrow night.”“I take it my son has talked to you,” I said, being cautious as the students filed out. But none were paying attention to us.“Yes, he did.” He stared down at my cleavage. “$200. You're lucky my parents give me a large allowance.”“Yes, I am,” I purred, grabbing his right hand. “Tomorrow night will be fun.” He licked his lips, his. It occurred to me that if I wasn't dreaming, I was in trouble. Could Itell anyone I wasn't this girl? Who would believe me? And even if by somemiracle someone believed me, what could they do? I somehow doubt anybodyknows how to do a soul transplant.For that matter, I wasn't sure where my real body was. If my soul was inher body, was she in mine? Or is my body in the morgue?I decided I was going to have to try and calm down. I tried to rememberwhat happened before the accident. It came in. More

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