Physics was different. She thought physics would be hard, but they were studying electricity. The problems were just resistance or capacitance of circuits, and her father was an electrician. She knew the theory. It was simple to calculate those problems. That took another hour. She was about to open up her English book, when her mother opened her bedroom door.

“You can come down for supper,” she said. “How is your homework coming?”

“Two subjects down.”

“Come down and eat.”

Deborah went down the stairs.

The table was set for two. A TV dinner was set at each place. “I didn’t make a big production of dinner because your father is not here tonight.”

“Where is he?” Deborah asked.

“Don’t you remember? He is one of the witnesses to the execution.” She frowned. “I wanted to be there to see that horrible woman put to death myself, but there were so many parents who lost a child at that school.”

Deborah froze. Was she talking about her. “The woman who couldn’t stop the terrorist from…”

“That woman was the terrorist, and you were in kindergarten then. Your poor big sister died because of that wicked woman.”

Deborah remembered when the joy that the tanker missed the elementary school turned to horror as she watched it veer into the middle school instead. The twelve years of second guessing her brief struggle with the terrorist. She relived every scenario in her mind and still no matter what children died and she couldn’t go back and fix it anyway.

At least she had not been put to death. By Fates she ended up in a young body. She smiled when she thought of the chaos that was probably ensuing due to her disappearance from the gurney. The timing was none too soon; needle had almost gone into her vein.

She dug her fork into the food and tried to take a bite. Her lasagna, cooked with all the finesse of a microwave, seemed a bit more satisfying.

Her mother looked at her watch. “We’re missing the News.” She picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV. “I’ll let you watch this even though I grounded you from the TV, but Alison,” her mother said, “No other TV until you are ungrounded.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Deborah said. She felt excitement. She was going to relish hearing the news of her magical escape. She could barely eat her meal as she impatiently waited for the weatherman to stop droning on about cumulus clouds.

“In the capital today, the terrorist Deborah Addison was set to be executed.” The TV screen showed protesters out protesting the death penalty.

Deborah scowled at them. She hated death penalty protesters in spite of the fact that the death penalty had made a mistake in her case. She looked back at the screen.

“Two hundred forty children died when Deborah Addison rammed a tanker truck into a middle school.” The screen showed another group of people holding signs. One said, “Burn, Deborah, burn.” “I wish we could strap her to a tanker and light her up,” said a man when a reporter held a microphone up to his face.

Just wait, thought Deborah, until they announce my escape.

“At 1:32 PM,” the news announcer continued, “Deborah Addison was given lethal injection. She jokingly asked if the alcohol on her arm was to prevent infection, and then made a rambling statement. When she finished, she whispered something to the executioner, and lay back as the needle entered her arm. She then screamed for her father, and was pronounced dead at 1:36 PM”

It couldn’t have happened like that. She didn’t die. She was sitting right here watching it on TV. Sure she had another body, but it was a newly created life she was starting anew. Wasn’t it?

What if it wasn’t a great escape, but she just traded bodies with Alison Murphy? That girl was innocent of everything, but if their bodies were switched… “Oh God, Oh God,” she said. She had another life on her conscious now. She felt hot as the blood rushed to her face. Her whole body felt numb and then her thighs felt warm.

A pattering sound came from beneath her chair, but she couldn’t investigate it until the news story ended. “They killed her,” her she said. She finally managed to look down and just stared at her lap as she finished peeing her pants.

“Alison Mae Murphy,” said her mother. No, it was Alison’s mother. She was just a cuckoo’s egg left behind to devour the woman’s children. She was a pretender. “Alison, you’re peeing your pants.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. She forced herself to look in the woman’s eyes, “I’m truly sorry for everything.”

The lady looked at her with sad eyes. “Go to your room and change.” The woman sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Alison.?”