Hannah McDonald was the definition of weird. She wore mismatched socks on purpose, dyed her hair every month, and carried a sketchbook everywhere like it was her emotional support pet. She loved astronomy, hated small talk, and sat alone at lunch—by choice, thank you very much. Across the hall lived the human embodiment of a protein shake: Liam Carter. Quarterback. Six-pack. Report card full of Fs and a head full of air. He thought Shakespeare was a soccer player and believed the mitochondria was a Pokémon. They’d been neighbors since kindergarten—and sworn enemies since grade seven, when Liam accidentally spilled Gatorade on Hannah’s science fair project and called her “Einstein with eyeliner.” Now seniors, they couldn’t stand each other. Until the field trip from hell. Their English class was visiting the city’s museum of ancient artifacts (“ancient boredom,” as Liam called it). Hannah was enthralled; Liam was asleep. When Hannah rolled her eyes at him during the exhibit about “spiritual duality,” the guide told them to stand on opposite sides of a carved stone that symbolized “balance between male and female energy.” They both touched it at the same time— and boom. Next thing Hannah knew, she was waking up in a room that smelled like sweat, Axe body spray, and broken dreams. And she had abs. Liam woke up screaming because “why do I have eyeliner and—WHAT IS THIS SKIRT!?” They’d switched bodies.