“To my credit, I’m almost positive she’s not one hundred percent into girls,” said Wynezra. “I mean, you wouldn’t believe the crush she has on Colin Firth. And Hugh Grant. And the immortal spirit of Alan Rickman. She has a real soft spot for British men over fifty. She just has a really big crush on me, too.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Imogen said something about last summer?”

“We were experimenting. For me, I think it was purely an outlet to release all the pent-up feelings I had for Holden. It was fun at first, but then things got a little intense between us, so I tried to back away, but Imogen didn’t want to back away, and… well… we kind of had a falling-out. It wasn’t until the end of the summer that we finally made up again. When school started, it was like nothing had changed. Except it was probably only like that for me. Because… well, you know.”

Wynezra looked at me. The sort of look that was trying so hard to be meaningful, even though it was frail and breaking.

“I really wanted her to like you,” she said. “The plan was real to me. I hope you know that.”

I nodded thoughtfully. I was trying not to feel bad for myself, but it was hard to not be just a little bit jealous of her. Not only was Wynonna a better Ezra than me, but Imogen was in love with her, too.

God, how could I be inside Wynonna’s body, and I was still jealous of everything she was, and everything I wasn’t?

By the time Carol arrived, Wynezra and I still had not swapped. I politely introduced Carol to “Ezra Slevin” and Carol politely introduced herself. Carol and I made idle chitchat—about movies (mostly those starring Dame Judi Dench), about Twelfth Night, about—in a very abridged version of the truth—how tonight had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Wynezra observed our friendly banter from the back seat, openmouthed.

When we reached my house, Wynezra and I still had not swapped, so we dropped Wynezra off, and I drove home with Carol.

By the time Wynonna’s wonderful brain had started releasing melatonin into my bloodstream, circulating to all parts of my body, I changed sleepily out of my bloody clothes and into shorts and a tank top, and crawled into bed.

I fell asleep.

Wynezra and I didn’t swap back.

FIFTEEN

WE DIDN’T SWAP BACK the next day either.

Or the day after that.

Or the day after that.

ONE MONTH LATER

SIXTEEN

IT WAS FINE AT first. I needed to learn Viola’s role, and Wynezra was very committed to her three lines as Servant, and being in a single body without having to worry about the late-afternoon swap made things significantly less stressful for both of us.

But then we kept not swapping.