I'm not even sure where the bus picks people up at the mall. I've never had to use the bus. But seeing as I'm now some dumb kid, what choice do I have? I could always ask someone. I decided to head to the closest entrance, which was the enteance to the big box sporting goods store.
I try to act as casually as I could, even though I'm now stuck as a teenage boy that looked nothing like I did a little while ago. It was strange to not have my long hair, or my boobs and hips. It was wierd and a bit uncomfortable having a lump between my legs, with seemingly a mind of its own. I had the feeling of needing to piss that was getting stronger. I had that lump pressed up against the icky underwear that a teenage boy has been wearing all day. My hand begins to casually wander down there. No wonder boys touch themselves! But I caught myself, once I felt that unnerving "THING" with my hand.
I clear my throat. Reminding me that I have the throat and mucus of this boy. That I'm now stuck with it. Forced to swallow it! I look down at my hands. Foreign hands. Boy hands! I felt my chest, touching the boys clothes I'm wearing. I'm beginning to feel a panic rise up. I close my now dark eyes and try and breath deeply. An exercise I had a habit of doing. But now, for some reason, I felt kind of "lame" an awkward doing that. So I stopped, opened my eyes, and forced myself to focus on the task at hand.
Feeling a little more collected, I walk towards the sporting goods store. Eventually, I got to the entrance and spotted "myself" disguised as a dark curly-haired teenage boy, in the glass! I was about to stop and gawk, when the sliding glass door opened. Again, I had to check myself over again. White T-shirt. Jeans. Nikes. I sighed at my predicament, and proceeded forward.
Walking into the store, I went towards the checkout lanes to get the attention of a store employee.
"Can I help you, young man?" someone behind me asked. Not thinking he was talking to me, I went to one of the cashier's and said in my sorta high-pitched teenage boy's voice:
"Um. Excuse me. Do you knOOoow..." My voice cracked! I cleared my throat and tried again, trying to play it off like boys my age (right now) try to do.
"Do you know where the bus stop is for the mall?" I successfully asked.
The clerk looked at me. Looked DOWN at me. And said it was outside the Macy's entrance.
Macy's. Great! Just great! I just came from there, being chased by a mall cop! Well, maybe I can sneak over there if i continue to act casually.
"Thank yOOOuuu" I said. Dammit, that's humiliating! No wonder boys are so awkward and shy and wierd at this age.
Feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, I take a stroll out of the sporting goods store and towards Macy's. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm from behind just as I stepped into the mall:
"Gotcha!" said a deep voice.
Afraid it was some sort of perverted mugger, I screamed. Screamed momentarily, but it came out like an awkward teenage boy with a changing, cracking voice!
"You're coming with me, young man!" said the man.
Heart racing, I looked up. It was that mall cop!
"Now, I have reviewed the footage of a security camera from a week ago and saw you shoplifting. You then ran from me, running through the mall, which is strictly prohibited! You'll have to come to the security office with me where I can call your parents."
Half dragging me, I decided it would be better to just surrender and face whatever music is coming my way. Afterall, that wasn't even me, and hopefully, I can get my own body back in the near future anyway.
And so, I go with him to the security office. Apparently, that police cruiser was not there for me. Nothing was mentioned about it, and no real cop was in the office.
The mall cop went over to a desk, satisfied that I was now cooperating.
"Now. What's your parents' number?"
"I dunno," i said.
He rolled his eyes and told me to quit playing dumb. "You can either give me the number, or I'm going to have to contact the local police. I don't want to press charges, but I will if I have to."
"Fine. One second. I don't have their number memorized." I pulled out the kid's phone from his jeans pocket that is currently now mine. I pull up the screen lock, and instantly put in the four digit PIN number, which I had already memorized. The pin number made my teenage male hormones rise. It was a number associated with a girl!
Hoping the kid kept his parents' number or numbers in the phone's address book, I used my wierd slightly pudgy fingers with the chewed up nails to scroll through the list of names.
In the D section for "dad." Nothing. F for "father." Nothing again. Scrolling down to the Ms, I found "mom." It was a bit disconcerting reading the name "mom" on a cell phone I am in possession of, and not have it be my own mother's number.
I read off the number to the officer. He then asked for my name.
"Uuhh...uuhhh...."
"Come on kid, name! I don't have all day!"
Dammit, what was this kid's name again? Mike? Yeah! That's right! Michael Bennett!
Satisfied, he dialed "mom's" number.
"Oh, hello. This mall security, and I'm officer Bradley. I have your son Michael with me. I think he shoplifted a couple of weeks ago, but I'm not going to press charges for that. However, he did cause a bit of a scene earlier. He knocked over some lady, then was caught running. He had some sort of piece of jewelry in his hands. I checked with mall merchants, and none of them have ever seen it. The lady said it wasn't hers either. So I'm guessing it is legitimately his medallion.
Uh huh. Uh huh. Yup. Yes, he's right here. You wanna talk to him?
Here, kid. Your mother wants to speak with you."
"Uh. Hel-hello?" I said in that irritating teenage voice of mine.
"Micheal James Bennett! I dunno what has gotten into you lately! You're grades are bad, and becoming worse. You're shoplifting. Knocking people over. Running at the mall! You're going to be grounded for a week, young man! I'll be there to pick you up in 15 minutes. You better remain at that office! Do you understand me?"
"Uh. Yes." I said, sounding defeated. Which was quite genuine, as I was being yelled at and berated by other adults! I swear, if I get my hands on that kid....
"Btw, this seems to be yours. You dropped it in that scuffle with the lady." He reached out to hand me a medallion! That must have been what that kid was carrying. I held out "my" hands to take it, and he dropped it into my palms.
I looked it over very carefully. It had strange markings, with the word "Zulo" scratched into its surface. It was shiny and gold. It was kinda cool looking. I wonder if this thing has anything to do with us switching bodies...? As crazy as it sounds, I am now sitting in a chair as a young 13 or 14 year old boy with dark curly hair named Michael.....which was already strange and crazy to begin with. We must have changed bodies SOMEHOW. And this looks just like the kind of piece that would somehow do such a thing....