Chapter 6: New Lives Leo (In Ava Body)

I fumble with the bag, nearly dropping it. Her body feels too light, too fragile, like I’m piloting a paper airplane. I follow Jade to the locker room, where the volleyball team’s already suiting up. The air smells of sweat and liniment, and I’m hyper-aware of Ava’s body, her toned legs, her aching shoulder.

In the locker room, I hesitate, clutching her gear. The other players are changing, and I avert my eyes, feeling like an intruder. I slip into a stall, pulling off Ava’s t-shirt. Her reflection catches in a small mirror, and I freeze, eyes drifting to her breasts. “Well, damn, Lin,” I mutter, blushing. “No wonder you’re so balanced out there.” I wrestle with her sports bra, getting tangled in the straps. It’s like defusing a bomb. I finally yank it on, nearly toppling over, and Jade’s voice cuts through:

“You okay, or did you forget how to dress yourself?”

“Fine!” I call, emerging with what I hope is Ava’s usual stoic expression. Jade raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push.

On the court, Coach Barrett’s whistle pierces the air. “Lin, dig drill, now!”

I jog to position, mimicking the other players, but Ava’s body moves differently, quicker, but less powerful. A ball rockets over the net, and I dive, instincts screaming to catch it. My timing’s off, and the ball smacks the floor inches from my fingers. Pain shoots through Ava’s shoulder, and I grit my teeth, stifling a groan.

“Lin!” Coach snaps. “Where’s your head? That was an easy save!”

“Sorry,” I mumble, scrambling up. Jade pulls me aside, her grip firm.

“What’s wrong with you?” she hisses. “You’re moving like a freshman. Is it your shoulder?”

“It’s… nothing,” I say, channeling Ava’s quiet deflection. “Just tired.”

Jade’s not convinced. “Fix it, Ava. Trials are in three weeks. You can’t choke now.”

The drill continues, and I flub another dig, sending the ball into the net. The team groans, and Coach’s clipboard slams against her thigh. “Lin, wake up!”

I retreat to the water cooler, heart pounding, not mine, Ava’s. Her shoulder screams, and I realize she’s been hiding this injury, maybe for months. How does she keep going? I glance at Jade, who’s talking to a teammate about Ava’s “family counting on her.” Guilt twists in my gut, sharper than the pain. I mocked her lyrics, her heart, and now I’m tanking her future.

My phone, Ava’s phone, buzzes. A text from my number: Flat Fifth, 9. 'Don’t screw this up more.'

Flat Fifth, 9 PM – Ava and Leo

The café’s warm glow spills onto the quad, its mismatched chairs and low lighting a stark contrast to the chaos in my, Leo’s, head. I slouch at a corner table, trying to hide his recognizable face, but a barista winks at me, sliding a coffee over. “On the house, Leo.”

“Uh, thanks,” I mumble, flustered. His charm is a magnet, even when I’m not trying. I sip the coffee, scalding my tongue, and mutter, “Great, now I’m burning his mouth too.”

A chair scrapes, and Leo, in my body, stumbles in, tripping over a table leg. My face, flushed and furious, glares at me. “Nice job, genius,” he hisses, sitting across from me. “Noah thinks I’m having a stroke.”

“Yeah?” I lean forward, Leo’s voice low. “Coach thinks I’m throwing my scholarship. I dove for a ball and nearly dislocated your shoulder.”

He winces, touching my shoulder instinctively. “That’s… bad. You felt it?”

“Felt it?” I snap. “It’s like someone’s stabbing me every time I move. What’s wrong with you? I found pills in your drawer. And your heart, ” I tap his chest, my chest now. “It’s skipping beats.”

His eyes, my eyes, widen. “You went through my stuff?”

“You’re in my body! I’m allowed to notice it’s falling apart!”

He looks away, jaw tight. “It’s… under control. Arrhythmia. Nothing major.”

“Bullshit,” I say, echoing Jade’s bluntness. “And my shoulder’s not ‘nothing’ either. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters, my voice sharp. “You’re pushing through an injury that could end your career.”

We glare at each other, the café’s hum fading. A couple at the next table glances over, and I lower Leo’s voice. “We can’t keep screwing this up. I sounded like a dying cat in your rehearsal, and you’re tanking my drills.”

He snorts, my laugh sounding weirdly cute. “Yeah, I noticed. Jade’s ready to stage an intervention.”

“So we help each other,” I say, hating how desperate I sound. “You teach me guitar, stage stuff. I teach you volleyball. We meet at night, somewhere no one sees, like the empty rehearsal studios.”

He hesitates, then nods. “Deal. But if you break my guitar, I’m burning your volleyball.”

“Touch my gear, and I’ll shave your curls,” I retort, adjusting his jacket on my shoulders. “And stop slouching. You’re ruining my posture.”

He smooths my hair, grumbling, “And stop touching my curls.”

The barista calls out another order, snapping us back to reality. We’re ridiculous, Leo Martinez and Ava Lin, arguing in each other’s bodies. But beneath the absurdity, there’s fear. And something else, trust, maybe, fragile as a new chord.

“Why’d you have to be so cruel last night?” I ask, Leo’s voice softer now.

He looks down, my face shadowed. “I… don’t know. You called my songs heartless. It hit a nerve.”

I wait, but he doesn’t elaborate. The silence stretches, heavy but not hostile.

“We start tomorrow night,” I say finally. “Don’t be late.”

He nods, standing. “Don’t break my band.”

“Don’t lose my scholarship.”

We part ways, the night air cold against Leo’s skin. Back at his apartment, I pick up his guitar, strumming a tentative note. It’s not awful. I find his notebook, lyrics scrawled in messy handwriting: Lights fade, but the ache stays. I pause, struck. “Maybe I was wrong about you, Martinez.”

Leo (in Ava’s Body)

Ava’s dorm is quiet, Madison still gone. I grab a pillow, practicing a volleyball serve. It sails wide, knocking over her kinesiology textbook. “Nice one, Leo,” I mutter, her voice mocking.

I spot a torn lyric fragment in her trash: How many times can you vanish… My chest tightens, not from her shoulder. Her face at The Amp, hurt, then hardened, flashes behind my eyes. “You didn’t deserve that, Lin,” I whisper, tucking the fragment into her desk.

Tomorrow, we start fixing this. If we don’t, we lose everything.