The End is the Beginning

Chapter 1

  As odd as it may be my story begins with my end. Or more accurately, it begins with my attempted end. My name is Allison Jackson and this is the whole truth and nothing but but the truth so help me, well you know the rest.f that
I really wasn't living till I stepped out in front of that truck. Although, might i add, it was made in the same year I was born, my flesh body didn't leave anything more than a scratch  and a small dent on its steel body. Before that I was pretty much counting the years or even days till I could finally die. I had decided when  I was 15 that 17 would be the right age so that i could get my license but not get kicked out. I know it seems wrong to plan your own death years in advance but you would understand if you lived even a day in my life. I'm what people call a wall flower, not pretty enough to be chased by guys and not homely enough to be noticeable. I'm not a prep or a goth. I don't wear pink nor do i have piercings in places you wouldn't think you could. I was a nobody in a big school where you either stand and shout or you fade from people's minds. If somebody mentioned my name even the people who's lockers are right next to mine would ask "who?" It's like I'm not even there. I know what your thinking and no I'm not just dying for attention. My foster parents, who adopted me when I was 12 because I'm not a slob and I'm not loud or a troublemaker, aren't living off welfare nor are they well-to-do, they are middle class and the worst of the foster parents I've lived with. My "mother" Kathlene Jackson, who I just call Kathy, is a business woman who travels the country as a financial adviser to those who could afford it as ironic as that sounds. My "father" Richard Jackson, him I call Dick, is a "self-employed stay-at-home dad", his term not mine, which translated into a bum who pulls in a few bucks here and there from the internet where he sells junk that I am surprised anyone wants. I have 2 older "brothers" and 3 younger "sisters", not including the random foster kid that bunks here once in a while but not longer than a few weeks. But Dick only lays a hand on the ones he has adopted, which leads me back to my death.
I had been 17 for a month when I stepped out front of that truck a bit to soon, if he had been sober he would have swerved me and I would have been in the hospital for the suicidal instead of the fatally injured. I'm so glad he was completely trashed.
   I woke up in the hospital bed and the first thing I thought was "crap". A female nurse was checking the IV that was pumping fluids into me which I was definitely not going to look  at. The nurse was still blurry and the room was slightly spinning so I closed my eyes to prevent myself from chucking up. The last memory I had played through my head. The pain of the collision, the crunch of glass as the driver flew through the windshield and the thud of him landing close by. My vision was tinged with red and black from the impact and I tasted coppery blood in my mouth. I felt something grab my hand and that touch alone startled me enough to keep me from going under. I looked at my hand and couldn't believe that the driver had grabbed me hand. I brought my gaze up to his face and recognized him from school, he was the star football player and he looked as bad as I felt. He coughed and a bit of blood splattered the pavement between us. My own blood was pooling slightly around me and was creeping towards him and his own pool of blood was rushing to meet it. My eyes closed a second before they mixed.
   I opened my eyes to the nurse speaking and tried to focus on the words. "Jake? Can you hear me?" the nurse questioned. "Must not be talking to me," I thought, misguided. "My name's not Jake," I replied. "Oh, your chart says Jake. Is there a nickname you prefer?" the nurse persisted. 'Did I get so messed up by the collision that I look like a guy?' I wondered fearful. Then the one thing I've said out loud since waking up came back and hit me full force. My voice! "What the hell?!" I practically shouted at no one in general, lost in a state of panic. My voice didn't sound like Allison Jackson. I looked down at myself and felt my panic surge as I couldn't find my semi-curly mousy brown hair or the small c-cups breasts it had taken my 17 years to develop. Instead I could feel a light breeze blowing against my ears and I could see a solidly built male body where my petite female frame should have been. "Where am I?" I asked freaking out. "You're at the hospital you were in a crash and were thrown through the windshield", the nurse told me soothingly, not realizing I meant where was my body, the body of Allison Jackson, not where this body, Jake's body is. I rephrased my question "Where is Allison?" The nurse gave me a look of understanding pity before she said, "Miss Jackson is in stable condition but is still in ICU. She has a couple of broken ribs, a concussion, several minor lacerations, and is recovering from blood loss. All-in-all she is pretty lucky that she didn't get hurt any worse." Then she gave me a reprimanding motherly look and said, "you got a contusion on your brain,  multiple lacerations on your arms where you protected your head when you went through the windshield, blood loss, a hairline fracture in your right  forearm, but luckily we got all the glass out of your arms including the 6-inch piece that went into your shoulder." The only things that crossed my mind were: "I'm in the body of a guy, and not just any guy, the football player Jake. Does that mean he's in my body? Can I switch us back? Am I gonna be stuck like this forever? What's a contusion?" Okay, I admit that is a lot of things going through my head at once but its not as bad as what slipped out of my mouth. "How do I pee?" I receive life-changing news and I'm worried about having to learn how to use the bathroom all over again. "Oh, don't worry about that," she explained, "you have a catheter." I knew I was going to regret it but with sick fascination I asked, "A what?" The nurse was surprised that I didn't know and slowly informed me that I have a tube up my urethra that allows the urine to flow into a bag so I don't have to go into the bathroom to relieve myself. Lovely. "Visiting hours are about to begin, do you feel well enough for anyone?" she asked me. I immediately thought of Kathy and Dick and my "siblings", then realized that it wouldn't be my family but Jake's family that would visit me. Before i could decline, there was a knock on the door and a woman popped her head in and the nurse nodded to her. The woman rushed in followed by a man and the head cheerleader of  my school. "Crap" I thought for the second time today.
   Jake has the all-American family with the stay-at-home mom and a military father and only 2 siblings on girl and one boy. His sister is older and has a kid and a husband. The brother is younger and worships Jake. That's all I know about him and I was hoping that would be enough to survive all day. It wasn't. I first made the mistake of not referring to Jake's dad as "Sir" and Jake's mom as "nana" but we'll get to that later. His mom reached me first and she was everything you could hope for in a mom visiting their child in a hospital. Fresh tears running down her face, hair a mess, clothes looking like she slept in the, and voice unable to decide if it wants to be angry or grateful. If Kathy even came to the hospital she would look flawless in a crisp clean woman's blazer over a white button down collared shirt and it would be tucked into a black pencil skirt thatched the material of her blazer. Her stiletto black heels would click over the linoleum and her auburn brown hair would be tucked into a tight an neat bun. She would be professional and completely clean but Dick would lividly be expressing his emotions. Her "siblings" would come if they weren't busy. Jake's father looked at me like he was looking at one of his soldiers who had gotten shot, disappointed I hadn't protected myself better but proud that I survived. And then before I could prevent it, Lacy the cheerleader replaced his mom sitting on the edge of my bed and in the blink of an eye had leaned forward and kissed Jake's lips gently and the taste of her salty tears was on my lips. It was living that song by Katy Perry only I didn't have a boyfriend, I am the boyfriend.
   Now I know that you're probably thinking, "what the hell is wrong with me?" It's not like I asked Lacy to kiss me, in fact, if I had know what was going to happen I would have prevented it, at least for the time being. But what's done is done. Of course, that didn't prevent the shock from showing on my face. His mom laughed through her tears and attempted to calm me by reassuring, "relax Jake, we're not gonna get on your case about a quick kiss from your girlfriend after what you've been through."