Page 4 of Search for the Lost

Crispin felt all the blood leave his face. “Let me call in sick to the Office.” In truth, he did suddenly feel ill. He also hadn’t been looking forward to the added responsibility of being the boss, so if this delayed things a day or two, so much the better. He could afford to take a couple of days off. His solid organizational skills would have him back on top of his work in no time. I am the personification of order, after all.

And that’s when, with almost perfect comic timing, the Thing shimmered, blasted the room with a flash of light/slice of darkness, and Crispin suddenly found himself staring at himself through Leo’s eyes as a wave of Chaos washed over his soul.

2

Leopold

Leo was really, really trying.

The thing was, living with someone else wasn’t easy. He knew this from previous occasions in which strained finances had forced him to have roommates. One roomie had moved out after the fourth kitchen fire. One had packed up her belongings during their third week in the apartment, shouted something like I’d rather live in a dumpster than with you, and stomped out the door. The third roomie had actually lasted for a few months, probably because he spent most of his waking hours stoned out of his gourd. But he also didn’t manage to cough up his half of the rent and utilities, so that time it was Leo who left.

He’d assumed, however, that in the unlikely event he found a Dearly Beloved, cohabiting would be easier. After all, they loved each other. And he and Crispin had survived all sorts of nearly lethal adventures together. Sharing a home should be a cinch compared to facing man-eating moths and misanthropic dinosaurs, right?

Except it wasn’t. Crispin’s place was way nicer than Leo’s cruddy old apartment… but Leo had sort of loved that cruddy old apartment. He understood that Crispin couldn’t live in Sacramento—a city whose unofficial motto was Sacramento: It’s Not that Bad—so Leo had ceded that point. And honestly, Sacramento probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore now that Leo knew his true identity.

But then he and Crispin had argued over furnishings, with Crispin insisting that the treehouse was already furnished perfectly well, thanks very much, and Leopold pining for his perfectly comfy couch. Eventually Crispin had given in on the couch, although Leopold strongly suspected that he was plotting its “accidental” demise. And even with the furniture issue more or less settled, they disagreed over orderliness. Crispin, of course, felt that everything had a proper place and belonged in that spot: dirty laundry ought to be tucked into a hamper and clean laundry ought to be folded and put away, the dishes should be washed shortly after a meal and then dried and put into cupboards. He wanted to make the bed, for goodness sake. Every single day! And Leopold didn’t see the point in that when it would only get unmade again. It was madness dressed up as Order.

There were other matters of disagreement as well. Like food. And entertainment. And bedtime and waking-up time. And whether cookies and crumpets ought to be eaten in bed and how loud the music should be and whether that interesting green stuff growing in the corner of the bathroom window ought to be observed or—boring!—eradicated.

And now, just when he was on the cusp of luring Crispin back into bed—because dancing the mattress jig was one activity they wholeheartedly agreed on—Crispin’s brother showed up. In truth, Leo sort of liked Aspin, even though he was stuck-up and had a history of treating Crispin badly. For one thing, he was entertaining. But Leo also understood that it must have been hard for Aspin when his brother was the literal personification of Order and had a perfect Perfecality Score. So ordinarily Leo would have been pleased for him to come over, especially since it seemed as if Aspin was making nice to Crispin. The news about the Queen of the Fae being missing wasn’t exactly welcome, but Leo knew that Crispin would make an excellent king, so that was all right. Aspin even seemed to be accepting, with moderately good grace, the fact that their mother had passed him over for the crown.

So Leo tried. He plated up the crumpets and attempted to make tea, although it turned out a very odd color and he wasn’t positive it was consumable. The effort was there, in any case.

But then Aspin had produced this… thing. The Schrodinger’s Cat Thing. Which was fascinating. Leo was drawn to it like a non-man-eating moth to flame. It reminded him slightly of the Chaos Cloud that had pursued him, in that the Thing had an unsettled aura, a sort of invisible spinning energy that he found exciting. It also reminded him of when he was a little kid and he’d discovered one of his Christmas presents wrapped in shiny paper and hidden in the back of his parents’ closet. Or when he’d held a nighttime janitorial job at a golf course and discovered one of the golf carts left out of storage, the keys still in it. He knew he shouldn’t touch these things, that if he did, bad things would happen. But nevertheless he wanted to touch. Badly.

But dammit, Leo was trying. So he kept his hands busy with crumpets instead. And when Crispin proposed consulting the Oracle about the queen’s disappearance, Leo had mostly held his tongue despite doubting how useful that the Oracle would be. No offense to Minkis, but… squirrels. Cool little guys, but he’d seen them dart in front of moving cars and bury nuts in places where they’d never be able to retrieve them. Nevertheless, that was what Crispin wanted to do, and it was his mother. Also, he was King Crispy now.

Leo was going to propose that they eat a proper meal first, because crumpets were more like a snack. And maybe wait until the next day so they could get a nice early start, first thing in the morning. In the interim they could send Aspin away and climb back into bed.

Then the Thing made a weird, sudden noise like a combination of a semi-truck horn and tinkling wind chimes. A blast of bright light and complete darkness momentarily blinded Leo. When he regained his sight, he found himself staring at a guy with messy hair and messier clothing.

“You should at least tuck in your shirt,” he scolded the guy… just as it registered that the guy was him. And if that was the case….

He looked down and discovered less tummy than he was used to, covered by a gray tweed vest. His bottom half wore pleated wool trousers, and underneath the vest was a collared, long-sleeved shirt in silky white cotton. And when he raised a hand to his neck… a bowtie. He was wearing a bowtie.

“Crispin?” Leo said the name, but it was not his voice that came out of this mouth. Then he added something else he felt was important to establish immediately: “This wasn’t my fault!”

The other Leo had gone very pale. “Leopold?” Naturally, that was Leo’s voice.

“What in heavens is going on here?” demanded Aspin. He looked confused, terrified, and… was that guilt shadowing his face? Maybe. “What are you two playing at? Mother is missing, and here you are⁠—”

“Quiet!” The other Leo sounded impressively authoritative. He firmed his jaw. “Leo, is that you in… me?”

“Yes, and not in the good, fun way.” Hmm. It was interesting to see his own face go red. “I take it I’m looking at Crispin?”

“Yes. Of course you are. You’re—” Crispin-in-Leo’s-body paused, looked down at himself, and ran a hand through this hair. But it was only when he touched his ears and discovered that they were rounded instead of pointy that the reality seemed to sink in. He made a small whimper and sat heavily onto the couch.

Leo, on the other hand, felt slightly energized with the realization and hopped up and down a few times. “Ooh! Ooh! I know what happened! We’ve been Freaky Fridayed!”

Crispin squinted at him. “What?”

“Freaky Fridayed, like the movie. The one with Jodie Foster was pretty good, but I think I preferred the Lohan/Curtis version. Less sexism in that one, although the whole fortune cookie bit is a little ugh, but if you can overlook that part it’s great. I always love Jamie Lee, and this was Lohan at her peak. I think they made a sequel more recently, but I haven’t⁠—”

“Leo!”

It had never occurred to Leo that when he was angry, his face went all scrunched up and red, and his eyebrows dove deeply toward his nose, which wasn’t very attractive. It wasn’t fair, really, because he’d seen Crispin angry plenty of times, and Crispin just looked sort of adorable then, like you wanted to kiss the tip of his nose and tweak his bowtie. So right now, Crispin should be wanting to do those things to him, only Crispin just looked pissed off.

Leo sighed and sat on the couch. “We’ve swapped bodies, Crispy.” He felt unexpectedly calm, and when he noticed that the frolicking unicorn tray was sitting crookedly on the table, he adjusted it to make it straight.