Chapter 1I Was Slapped by the School Bully, Only to Swap Bodies with Her the Next Second

By some strange twist of fate, I swapped bodies with the person who bullied me.

I became the adored heiress of the Summers family, while she was stuck as the older sister in a family that drained her dry.

Later, when she was slapped across the face and left crying on her knees, she begged me to switch back.

SMACK!

The moment I stepped into the classroom, a slap sent me stumbling backward.

“How dare you even show your face here?”

Maya Summers stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, glaring at me with pure disdain.

“Why didn’t you pass me the answers during yesterday’s test?”

I clutched my burning cheek and stammered, “The proctor was watching too closely. I couldn’t get the answers to you.”

But Maya didn’t care about my excuses. All she cared about was her grades. How I managed to pass her the answers was my problem, not hers.

A growing crowd of students gathered in the hallway, eagerly watching the drama unfold. My cheek throbbed with pain as I lowered my head and muttered, “I’m sorry, Maya. I’ll do better next time.”

Hearing my apology, Maya’s expression softened slightly. She scoffed, spun around, and returned to her seat.

I tried to follow her into the classroom, but her sidekick, Rainie, blocked my path.

Rainie smirked and poked me hard in the forehead with her manicured finger.

“You better be grateful Maya let you off easy. If this happens again, you’ll regret it.”

Satisfied with her intimidation, she turned on her heel and strutted back to her seat.

Only then was I finally able to walk into the classroom.

As I passed by, the class representative muttered under her breath, loud enough for me to hear:

“Getting slapped like that and still apologizing like a dog. Do you have no self-respect?”

My fists clenched tightly at my sides, shaking with frustration.

I wanted to fight back.

But Maya’s family was filthy rich, and her uncle was the school’s vice principal.

And me? I lived in a run-down neighborhood on the outskirts of town. My mom had drilled it into me from a young age: “Keep your head down at school. Don’t cause trouble.”

With a deep sigh, I unclenched my fists and returned to my seat.

After a long day of classes, the teachers handed out their usual piles of homework.

As usual, Maya tossed her worksheets onto my desk.

She pulled a $20 bill out of her designer bag and threw it in my face.

“You know the drill: do mine first, then do yours.”

I nodded, silently gathering her papers into my bag.

When I got home that evening, I barely had time to close the door before my mom slapped me across the face—right on the same cheek Maya had hit earlier.

The sting of the slap brought tears to my eyes as I felt the fresh handprint bloom over the already swollen skin.

“Well, well, Ashley,” my mom sneered, “what kind of trash have you been learning at school? Stealing money now, are we?”

My heart sank when I saw the piggy bank in her hand.

That was my money, all the cash I’d earned from part-time jobs. I’d hidden it carefully in my room. How had she found it?

“Your brother found this while cleaning your room,” she spat. “I didn’t raise you to be a thief!”

I glanced toward the living room, where my little brother sat on the couch playing video games. His smug grin made my blood boil.

The handheld console in his hands? He’d begged me to buy it for him, and I’d refused.

I snatched the piggy bank from my mom and shook it. Sure enough, a large chunk of my money was missing.

Pointing an accusing finger at my brother, I shouted, “You stole my money to buy that stupid game!”

My mom turned to him, her expression uncertain. But he didn’t miss a beat.

“That’s my money from my part-time job. What’s your problem?” he said, feigning innocence.

Then he added, “Actually, that money isn’t even hers—it’s yours, Mom! She probably stole it from you!”

My mom’s face darkened with fury.

She snatched the piggy bank back from me and screamed, “Caught red-handed, and now you’re trying to frame your brother? You’ve really lost it, Ashley!”

Reaching behind the door, she grabbed a metal hanger and swung it at my legs.

The pain was so intense that my knees buckled, and I collapsed to the floor.

My brother, now towering over me, smirked and adjusted his seat so he was sitting directly in front of where I knelt.

All I could do was grit my teeth and bury the burning humiliation deep inside.