Ben truly hoped there was a way back into his body.
"All right, but what do I say when I get to the site, Dad?" Brad asked. "I don't know what to do. And I'm scared, Dad."
Ben frowned as Brad sniffled and looked on the verge of tears. "Just don't say much of anything," he said. "And make me a list. I don't even know what classes you're taking."
Brad took out a composition book and began to scribble the names and room numbers all his classes.
"Don't be scared," Ben said again. "You can do this. Downstairs, you almost fooled me. You sounded just like me. How did you do that?"
Brad inhaled deeply. "How did I do what, Dad?"
Ben shook his head. "Just keep thinking you are me," he suggested. "It seems to have worked so far. Now I need to find some clothes out of your closet."
"Hey, Dad, what should I wear?" Brad asked.
Ben told his son where to find his work clothes and told him to go get changed into them. Left alone in his son's room, Ben stared into Brad's closet. "I can't believe I'm going back to junior high," he said. "Damn, I hate starting out the day with math class."
In his father's room, Brad found a Henley undershirt, waffle cotton, a blue and white plaid flannel shirt, jeans and size 12 work boots.
Back in Brad's room, Ben froze as he pulled on clothes. How had he known about math class starting out the day? He hadn't even glanced at the schedule his son had provided. "How did I know that?" Ben whispered.
He stepped into the hall. "Brad! What's your first class?"
Brad, staring at his huge body in the mirror, answered in a distracted voice. "Uh, I can't remember, Dad. Maybe history?"
"Is it, is it math?"
"Yeah, that's it," Brad called back. "Dad, can you do complex fractions? We have a test in that today."
Ben felt a little nervous. "Just trust your first instincts," he said, as much to himself as to his son. "I can't explain it, but I think if we just don't trip ourselves up by thinking too much, we can fool everyone."
Brad stepped into the hall. "So, how do I look, Dad?"
"Hey, Ben! Move your butt!" Jake yelled from downstairs.
Ben stared at what looked at first like his own reflection. "Uh, you look, well, I think you'll fool Jake."
"Now, man! What's taking you?" Jake called again.
"Cool your jets, man. We'll be right down. Christ." Brad said. He turned to his father. "Did I say that right, Dad?"
"You sounded perfect," Ben said. In fact, his son sounded so convincing in his body that Ben felt definitely disturbed. He wondered if he could do as good a job impersonating Brad.
"Do these clothes look right for me?" Ben asked. "Well, for you?"
Brad looked carefully at his father.
"Dad, that is so dorky!"
"Thanks a lot." His ego already felt fragile and now he had his own son, albeit in his own muscular, adult body, dissing him.
Brad grabbed a pack of cigarettes and threw them to his father. "Put them in your pocket. You might need 'em."
Ben considered opposing his son, but changed his mind and slipped them into his pocket. "Let's go, Brad."
The son in his father's body led the way downstairs.
On the lower step, he stopped. "Dad, I'm not sure," his brow wrinkled in concentration. "Can we pull this off?"
"Brad, remember what I said," Ben said in a far from confident tone. "Don't think. Just react."