Jake's POV
A textbook slammed down on the counter in front of me.
"Hello?" The customer snapped his fingers in my face. "Are you going to help me or just stand there?"
I jerked back, startled. "Sorry! I was just—"
"I need this book for Professor Klein's class. Do you have it or not?"
I looked at the title, my hands shaking as I typed it into the computer. This was only my second customer, and I was already messing up. Maya had explained the bookstore system three times, but my brain—her brain—couldn't seem to hold onto the information.
"Let me check the back," I said.
"Make it quick. Some of us have actual important things to do."
The words stung more than they should have. I hurried to the storage room, searching through stacks of books. Everything looked the same. My eyes started to blur with tears—Maya's tears came so easily, I'd discovered. Way easier than my own ever did.
When I finally found the right book and came back, the customer had left.
"He got tired of waiting," another student said from the browsing section. She didn't even look up from her phone.
"Oh." I set the book down, feeling stupid. "Should I put this back?"
No one answered. It was like I hadn't even spoken.
I stood behind the counter, watching students come and go. Groups of friends laughing together. Couples holding hands. Everyone seemed connected to someone.
Everyone except me.
Was this what Maya's life was like every single day?
---
The next customer was worse.
A girl from one of Maya's classes—I recognized her from the photos Emma had shown me—walked up with a stack of books.
"Hey," I said, trying to smile the way I'd seen Maya smile. Shy but friendly.
The girl didn't respond. She was texting someone, her fingers flying across her phone screen.
"That'll be forty-two dollars," I said after scanning all the books.
She shoved her credit card at me without looking up.
I processed the payment and handed everything back. "Have a nice day."
Still nothing. She grabbed her bag and walked away, already laughing at something on her phone.
I stood there, feeling like I'd just been erased.
"You get used to it."
I turned to find Ethan Park standing behind me, holding a book about art history.
"Get used to what?" I asked.
"Being invisible." He set the book on the counter gently, not slamming it like the others had. "Most people don't see the person working at the bookstore. They just see an obstacle between them and what they want."
"That's sad."
"That's life." Ethan studied my face—Maya's face. "You seem different today. More... I don't know. Present?"
My heart skipped a beat. Could he tell? Could he somehow sense that I wasn't really Maya?
"Just trying something new," I said quickly, scanning his book.
"Well, I like it." Ethan paid and then hesitated. "Hey, about yesterday. When you got in that car. I was really worried about you."
Guilt twisted in my stomach. "I'm okay. It was stupid, but I'm okay."
"Good." He smiled, and it was so genuine that it made my chest hurt. "Because the world needs more people like you in it."
He left before I could respond.
I stood there, staring at the empty space where he'd been, and realized something that made me feel terrible: Ethan Park was in love with Maya. Really, truly in love with her.
And Maya had been so focused on me—on Jake Morrison, who'd treated her like trash—that she'd never even noticed.
---
The hours dragged by. More customers came and went, most of them barely acknowledging me. A few were polite, but most treated me like a robot. Like I didn't have feelings or thoughts or a life outside this counter.
By my break, I was exhausted in a way I'd never experienced before. Not physical exhaustion—Maya's body wasn't tired. But emotional exhaustion. Soul exhaustion.
I sat in the back room, eating the lunch Maya had packed, and pulled out her journal. I knew I shouldn't read it—it was private. But I needed to understand her. Needed to know how to survive as her.
The first entry was from three years ago:
Started high school today. Everyone seems so confident. I feel like an alien. Jake Morrison smiled at me in the hallway and my heart stopped. Is this what love feels like?
I flipped forward.
Jake scored the winning goal tonight. I was the only one in the stands still cheering when everyone else had stopped. Does he notice me? Does he see me at all?
More pages.
I drew Jake again today. Emma says I'm obsessed. Maybe I am. But drawing him makes me feel less alone. Like maybe if I capture him perfectly on paper, he'll become real to me. Like maybe I'll matter.
The words hit me like punches. Page after page of hope and loneliness and desperate wishes. She'd built me up in her head as this perfect person, when really I was just a jerk who was good at hockey.
And I'd destroyed her for it.
The door opened and my manager, Mrs. Rodriguez, poked her head in.
"Maya, there's someone here asking for you."
"Who?"
"He says he's a friend. Tall guy, looks athletic."
My stomach dropped. Had someone figured out the switch? Was this one of my teammates?
I walked back to the counter and froze.
Brittany stood there, her arms crossed, her expression cold.
"We need to talk," she said. "Now."
"Brittany, I'm working—"
"I don't care." She leaned across the counter, her voice low and angry. "You've been avoiding me since yesterday. And now Jake is acting super weird, and you're acting super weird, and I want to know what's going on."
"Nothing's going on."
"Liar." Brittany's eyes narrowed. "I saw the way you looked at him yesterday. At the coffee shop. You looked at him like..." She paused. "Like you were seeing him for the first time. Like you understood him."
My heart pounded. "I don't know what you mean."
"Did something happen between you two?"
"No! I barely know Jake!"
"Then why did he spend two hours defending you to his friends today?" Brittany pulled out her phone and showed me a video. It was me—in Jake's body—arguing with Marcus and Tyler at lunch.
"She's not a stalker," video-Jake said. "She's a person with feelings who I treated like garbage. And I'm done pretending that was okay."
My breath caught. Maya had done that? Had stood up to my friends?
"So yeah," Brittany continued. "Something happened. And I'm going to find out what."
She left before I could respond, leaving me standing there with my mind racing.
If Brittany was suspicious, how long before others figured it out? How long before the whole school knew something was wrong?
My phone buzzed. A text from Maya: Your dad just showed up at my dorm. He wants to take me—you—to dinner. What do I do?
Then another text from the unknown number: Tick tock. 24 hours left. Better start convincing people you're who you say you are. Or the switch becomes permanent.
I looked around the bookstore—at the customers who didn't see me, at the life Maya had been living for years, invisible and alone.
And I realized something terrifying: if we failed, if we stayed switched forever, Maya would finally get the life she'd always dreamed of—popular, noticed, powerful.
And I would disappear into the background, just another invisible face in the crowd.
Maybe that was the real punishment.
Maybe that was the real lesson.
Not just to understand what I'd done to Maya, but to live it. Forever.