The second day of school dawned, and Emily woke up to a slightly more familiar routine, feeling a little more at ease than the first day. Nevertheless, she still nervously nibbled on her breakfast, glancing at Thomas and Sarah with a mixture of hesitation and reassurance.
"You'll do great today, Emily," Sarah said warmly, handing her a packed lunch. "Just be yourself and have fun. It’s OK to get butterflies; I used to get them too—they’ll pass."
With a nod, Emily slung her supply-filled backpack over her shoulder and joined her mother for the drive to school. ‘Some days I get a packed lunch? Has to be better than the…slop…they serve at school,’ she thought, suppressing a groan at the memory of yesterday’s school lunch.
As she stared out the window, Daniel’s mind analyzed the day ahead, balancing the logistics of the schedule with the vague flutter of nervousness.
As they approached the schoolyard, Emily felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The playground was alive with activity—children laughing, playing games, and chasing each other around. Emily hesitated for a moment, unsure where to start. Her gaze fell on a group of girls huddled around a jump rope, giggling.
Jump rope—it looked painful. Daniel’s chronic illness had prevented him from moving much, much less jumping. Yet, the body Emily now inhabited didn’t seem as cautious. It almost felt like it knew how to jump.
"Hey, Emily! Over here!" a voice called out.
Turning, Emily saw Lucy from her class waving at her. She smiled in relief and hurried over to join her. Daniel hadn’t smiled that easily in years.
"Hey, how was your first day?" Lucy asked, her curiosity evident.
"It was... different," Emily replied. Daniel wanted to add more—how it was surreal, how bizarre it felt—but the words came out simpler than intended.
Lucy nodded knowingly. "It takes time. Come on, let me show you around."
For the next few minutes, Lucy guided her through the schoolyard, pointing out classrooms, the cafeteria, and the library. While walking, Emily noticed everything seemed larger than life. Doors towered above her, and she had to take more steps to cover the same distance as Daniel. Daniel couldn’t place it, but the sights and sounds felt somehow comforting to Emily’s body.
Conversely, her memories of Daniel’s old school were starkly different—it had been older, dimly lit, and unwelcoming. In contrast, this school seemed newer, cleaner, and brighter, with colorful murals adorning the walls and cheerful posters promoting positive behavior.
When they passed by the computer lab, Emily’s interest was piqued. Through the open door, she could see rows of basic 90s computers, each with a small monitor and chunky keyboard. A teacher was explaining something to a group of attentive students, their faces lit by the glow of the old screens.
Daniel’s love for technology was instantly sparked, but there was a deeper reaction from the consciousness she had sensed deep within this body - a sense of wonder, not just in the machines but in the possibilities they held.
Walking through the hallways, her senses became heightened—she could smell the paint on children’s artwork, hear the light buzz of conversation, and feel the cool air from the vents. These details tugged at memories Daniel couldn’t place, like echoes from someone else’s experience. In a less introspective moment, Emily chuckled, realizing that at least this school had air conditioning.
As the bell rang, signaling the start of classes, Emily found herself in a bright and colorful classroom filled with excited, eager faces. She took her seat, her gaze drifting around the more familiar room. As she, once again, gazed at walls adorned with children’s artwork, basic math and alphabet guides, There was something oddly familiar about the colorful decorations, the sound of pencils scribbling, and the teacher’s calm voice.
Emily couldn't help but marvel at the innocence and simplicity of the children's world, so starkly different from the complexities she had known as Daniel. She felt a small warmth, a quiet peace settling in, as if this was a world she could finally belong to.
-
Throughout the day, Emily navigated various subjects—math, science, and even a lively session of arts and crafts. She struggled some with the precision required for cutting and gluing, but her determination to fit in pushed her to participate enthusiastically. As she interacted with her classmates, she found herself cautiously testing the waters of interpersonal relationships, yearning to belong yet wary of revealing too much of her adult knowledge.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
However, she didn’t realize that a new friendship - one which would change the course of her life, was going to be made that day.
Emily sat at her desk in the classroom, her adult mind breezing through the math problems with ease. However, her small hands struggled to keep up with her brain, and the pencil felt awkward in her grasp. As she reached the last question, her pencil snapped in half, leaving her with nothing to write with.
A wave of panic surged through her as she looked around desperately for a spare. Just as her frustration began to mount, a soft voice beside her said, "Here, you can use one of mine."
Emily turned to see a girl with kind eyes holding out a brightly colored pencil. Relief and gratitude flooded through Emily as she accepted it. "Thank you so much," she said with a smile, feeling an instant connection. Daniel might have offered a more formal thanks, but Emily’s voice carried a simple sincerity that felt more earnest and natural.
The girl nodded shyly and returned to her work. During recess, Emily found herself standing near the swings, uncertain where to go. The playground was a vibrant space, filled with colorful swings, slides, and climbing frames. The sound of children's laughter echoed around, creating a lively and welcoming atmosphere. To her surprise, the girl approached her again. "Want to join me?" she asked.
Emily nodded eagerly, and together they swung back and forth, their laughter mingling with the chatter of other children. As she pumped her legs to go higher, Emily felt a rush of exhilaration.
As Daniel, she had always loved swinging, but adults swinging in a playground looked out of place and awkward. Now, in Emily's small body, she could enjoy the simple pleasure without any self-consciousness. Doing it alongside a new friend made it even better. As Emily pumped her legs to go higher, the exhilaration hit her but this joy seemed more primal, more connected to the small body she was in. Her laugh felt natural—like it belonged more both Daniel and someone deep within her.
Over lunch, they sat together at a picnic table. Lily chatted animatedly about her favorite books, TV shows, and her pet rabbit named Cocoa. Emily listened intently, asking questions and showing genuine interest. Daniel had been fond of small animals too—a characteristic Emily seemed to have retained. How could anyone who adores little fuzzy creatures be anything but benevolent? At least in Emily’s mind.
As Lily talked, Emily tried to contribute, but she realized she had little of her own to share yet. "I just moved here," Emily said, trying to keep her voice casual. "So, I don’t have much to tell yet."
Lily smiled brightly. "That’s okay! You’ll find your favorites soon. I can show you around."
Before becoming Emily, Daniel had always felt socially awkward. Friendships in the adult world often seemed forced, influenced by office politics and the complexities of grown-up life. Daniel had struggled to make genuine connections, often feeling isolated and overwhelmed by the pressures of maintaining a social facade. Relationships felt like a series of obligations rather than genuine bonds.
But now, as Emily, things were different. The friendship with Lily was pure and uncomplicated. They were just two kids, living in the moment, without the burdens of adult expectations. There were no hidden agendas, no ulterior motives—just the shared joy of exploring the world together.
–
The rest of the school day passed in a blur of activities. By the end of the day, Emily felt a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment as she got into the car with Thomas. The drive back was quieter this time.
Daniel’s mind inside Emily was busy, reflecting on the day—fitting in, navigating this new life, and concealing the truth of this identity. Yet, there was a growing ease in the way her body carried itself, a sense of falling into routine that brought an unexpected calm.
Back at home, Sarah greeted her with a warm hug. "How was school, sweetheart?"
"It was... good," Emily replied slowly, her gaze drifting to the floor. Something about the way she said it—almost without thinking—carried a more natural warmth. "I think I’m starting to like it here."
Sarah smiled back, a glint of pride in her eyes. "I’m so glad to hear that, Emily. This just made my day too. You’re handling this like a champ."
As bedtime approached, Emily hugged Sarah goodnight, a smile lighting up her face. "Thank you for everything today, Mom. I really appreciate it." She noticed it was becoming easier to say that word - ‘mom’ - after so many years of having no support system.
Sarah’s eyes softened with affection. "You’re welcome, Emily. You’re adjusting so well—I’m proud of you."
With a final goodnight to Thomas, Emily retreated to her room. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling once again, the events of the day replaying in her mind. Emily carefully thought back to the experiences and learnings of the day. There was an odd sense of belonging—not foreign, but subtle that she found she had come to accept. The room, the school, the routine—they were starting to feel more familiar, though the Daniel in her couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
Later that evening, Emily lay in bed, replaying the day’s events in her mind. The school, the routine—it was all starting to feel familiar. Daniel’s presence still guided her thoughts, organizing the experiences as logically as ever, but there were moments she couldn’t quite explain. Smiling came easier, and the interactions with others felt more effortless. It was subtle—barely noticeable—but every now and then, it felt like she was less observing and more being.