If You Were Me: A Body Swap Novel

By Nia Arthurs

Two girls—one white and one black—switch bodies. Can they find common ground? 

High school seniors, Natalia Brown and Elizabeth Castillo, live very different lives. 
Natalia’s wild-girl reputation is legendary, while Elizabeth’s artistic abilities gather dust in the shadows.
In a twist of fate, these two very different girls switch bodies. 
Forced to put their mutual hatred aside, they must work together to convince the world nothing has changed while trying to return themselves to normal. 
But living in each other's bodies reveals secrets and scars they'd both tried to hide.
Will they be able to fool the world and switch back? Or will they both destroy each other's lives before returning to their own?

If You Were Me is a heartwarming body-swap novel set in Belize. It explores the meaning of love and the power of friendship.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nia Arthurs
• Release date: Mar 24, 2022

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

ELIZABETH

The wind rushed through the fronds of the coconut trees, causing the green fingers to dance wildly. Blue waves charged upon the land, frothing with anger and frustration. For a split second, it seemed the water would overcome the sand and claim its rightful place over the yellow grains. Instead, the tide dragged the waves by its heels and returned it, kicking and screaming, to the Caribbean Sea.

I sat just beyond the water’s reach, digging my toes into the ground. I was alone in this stretch of surf and sky and I liked it that way.

The cry of a seagull was my only distraction as I drew, sketching the horizon with my pencil. A tendril of dark, curly hair blew into my face.

I stuffed it back into the bun I’d haphazardly fixed and concentrated on the picture blooming beneath my pencil.

Hey, Lu Brun. A voice interrupted my flow and I glanced up to give my best friend and partner-in-crime, Lucas Gavril, the stink eye.

He snickered and I ducked my head, returning my attention to the sketch. You’re not allowed to call me that. I reminded, shading in the shadow cast by the seagull on my page.

Why? He asked confidently and flopped unto the space beside me. I think it suits you.

I paused and narrowed my eyes at him. Had any other person tagged me with the name, I would have accepted the moniker as a compliment. Given that Lucas was my best friend and I knew him better than most, I chose to ignore him.

The nickname was based on the great Elisabeth Vigée Le Brun, a seventeenth century portraitist. Le Brun had completed several portraits of Queen Marie Antoinette. Her 1780 painting of Peace Bringing Back Abundance was simply inspired. Unfortunately, what Lucas knew about Le Brun and her effect on the world of colors and portraits and sketches could fit into a shell. All my best friend cared about was the resemblance of Le Brun’s last name to a famous basketball star’s.

Lizzy Lu Brun, He said in a booming voice. Artist of the Year. He smirked. Has a nice ring to it.

I smiled in spite of myself. Lucas was the only person who could interrupt me in my hiding place and get away with it. We’d been best friends since we were kids. The island’s pre-school had been terrorized by the little black girl and the little white boy duo. Lucas would suggest the schemes and I’d organize them so they were flawlessly executed. That pattern had slowed as we’d matured, but I was still cleaning up Lucas’ crazy ideas. I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

What are you doing here? I questioned. On Saturday afternoons, Lucas had beach volleyball practice. He was a member of the Varsity team at San Pedro High School. The seniors were gearing up for a competition against the Saint Joseph High School in Belize City.

Coach cancelled practice. He forgot his anniversary was today.

I laughed, thinking of the middle-aged Coach Bradley who sometimes forgot his own name. Yeah, that sounds like Coach.

Lucas leaned over my shoulder and stared at the sketch. I shifted and allowed him to view it more easily. Nice. He complimented.

I tilted my head and frowned. No, it’s not. But it’s just a pencil sketch. I’ll work harder at it tomorrow.

Lucas nodded his understanding. He was used to my voiced insecurities when it came to my sketches. I had always loved to draw. The world made sense when I put it to paint and paper. Lucas didn’t understand art, but he understood me. Art and I were inexplicably intertwined.

Well, it still looks good. He assured. How long have you been out here?

I squinted at the sun. Since five thirty.

Lucas whistled low. You’re crazy.

I like watching the sunrise. I defended.

You’re still crazy. He checked his watch. "It’s lunchtime now. Come on. I’m starving and I wasn’t up before the sun. You can treat me to pibil." He helped me to stand.

What makes you think I have money?

He sent me a disbelieving glance and jerked his head toward town. "Let’s go. I want to get to Papi’s before the place is crowded."

At his words, my stomach grumbled in protest and I gave in. You have a point. I slipped my sandals onto my feet and trailed him through the sand to the small road.

San Pedro was, quite rightly, dubbed La Isla Bonita. It was one of the most popular tourist destinations in Belize. Almost everyone on the island worked in the hospitality business. Lucas’ parents owned the Mariposa hotel. My parents ran a small restaurant on the main strip. As long as the tourists kept coming, our families would continue to be in business.

There were tons of things to do in San Pedro. Even though I wasn’t a tour guide, many of our customers regularly inquired about the best places to visit. I’d learned to divide my answer by land and sea. If tourists preferred sticking to the mainland, there was zip lining, water parks, sightseeing tours and art galleries. The sea held more colorful attractions with an offering of scuba diving, swimming with sharks, dolphins and sting rays, and even catching a boat to visit the Blue Hole.

During the summer, Lucas and I spent lazy days on the beach, swimming and playing volleyball with our friends. As it was currently the middle of the school year and we were both seniors, we had more academic things to focus on.

Thank God, Lucas moaned. We got here before the rush.

I smiled and quickened my steps toward the small cart stationed in the middle of a grassy field. Papi’s was a street side vendor that sold the best pibil in the world. He roasted the pig underground and seasoned the pibil meat with such flavor that every bite was like dying only to be brought back to life. Though we had tried to keep him a local secret, Papi’s was becoming more popular every year,

"Buenas trades," Lucas said in Spanish. He was far more fluent in the language than I. Despite my mother’s Hispanic heritage, I knew very little of the language. Dad was a Creole man through and through, from the top of his wavy brown head to the tip of his feet. I had his affinity for English and his skin tone.

"Hi, could I have a plate of pibil please?" I said in English. Lucas cut me a look and I stuck my tongue out at him.

The small, dark-skinned man stooped over the fryer and took our orders. Lucas and I stepped back so that the other natives taking their lunch break could speak to the cook.

So, Lucas glanced down at me. How are you and your social studies partner doing?

I rolled my eyes and groaned. Please don’t remind me.

He chuckled. Natalia Brown is the most popular girl in school, Liz. Aren’t you supposed to feel honored or something?

"She’s the most popular girl with the boys. I corrected bitterly. I can’t believe Mrs. Danvers did this to me."

Last week, our social studies teacher paired our school’s one-woman escort service and I for a research project. I was understandably frustrated and had politely requested a change of partner. Mrs. Danvers had declined my plea, insisting that we work together and complete the assignment. Short of committing the matter to the principal, I had no other option.

There was no love lost between the daughter of the wealthiest man in San Pedro and I. I admit Natalia was astoundingly pretty. With her blue eyes and light blonde hair, she had most of the guys’ adoration since we were in pre-school. But her personality did her outward appearance no favors. Nowadays, even her clothing tattled her blatant disregard for propriety. Natalia was a strong believer in transparency. Her wardrobe left little to the imagination. Through the years, the stories about her exploits in boats and bathrooms and bedrooms touched every corner of school.

She was a slut. (Excuse my language). I wanted nothing to do with her.

The feeling was mutual. Six years ago, Natalia had gone after Lucas. Of course she had. Lucas with his big green eyes and brown hair held the hearts of several young ladies at school. Together, Natalia and Lucas had become a power couple. It was a treat to see them arm-in-arm walking through the school yard, a blonde-haired, blue eyed beauty queen and her emerald-eyed prince. Unfortunately, Natalia hadn’t taken to me. She’d demanded that Lucas break things off with his best friend. He instead broke up with her.

I was blacklisted ever since.

Not that I cared. Natalia could have her popularity and her parties. I had my art and Lucas.

Come on, Liz. Lucas frowned. Don’t judge her like that. When I knew her, she was a good person.

You were both only twelve. I folded my arms and scoffed. That was years ago.

Well, people can’t change that much, can they? Lucas asked, his green eyes shining with concern. I knew he had a soft spot for Natalia. Though the popular girl hated his guts, Lucas always went out of his way to be kind to her. I had a hunch that Lucas blamed himself for Natalia’s ‘turning’. He was the last good influence in her life before she started running around with an older, more experienced crowd. I thought his self-blame was utterly ridiculous. To save our friendship we rarely spoke about his ex-girlfriend.

If the term girlfriend even applied to their childhood relationship.

Look, I shook my head. I already know what you’re going to say next. Oh you do? He arched an eyebrow.

Yeah, I rolled my eyes. You’re going to encourage me to remember who she used to be. You’re going to remind me that we could have all been friends.

I wasn’t going to say that. Lucas defended.

Mm-hm, I said dubiously, fanning my face to combat the pressing heat of this lazy Belizean day.

He grinned that shy, half-smile of his that had conquered hearts and melted bones. "I was going to tell you that maybe you should use this opportunity to get to know her beyond what you’ve heard."

I think I’ll pass. I said as I collected the plates of pibil and the containers of onion sauce from the cook. I handed one to Lucas as I stuffed my hands in my pockets and extracted some money. "That girl and I will never see through the same lens. We’re too different."

Fine. Lucas sighed, giving up for now.

Lucas was a sweetheart which was why we were such good friends. He was respectful and kind and caring. Natalia was the opposite. She was mean and selfish and rude. I was very selective about who I hung out with. Not everyone got me and I didn’t want nor expect them to.

You’re upset. Lucas nudged me with his shoulder as we strolled down the boardwalk.

No I’m not. I disagreed.

He appraised me, squinting his eyes against the sun’s glare. You are. He determined with certainty.

I sighed. "I just wish you’d let that girl go. You keep bringing her up and talking about how she used to be. She’s not that person anymore. You were twelve. It was forever ago, Luc."

I know. I know. We found a bench that rested beneath the cast of an awning’s shadow and sat down. I wish I could do something. I wish I could help her.

You can’t. She’s a girl who has everything: money, clothes, the attention and adoration of the entire school. You can’t offer her anything that she wants right now.

Lucas shrugged, his face disheartened.

Hey. I said, unraveling the foil covering the plate of pibil. It’s her loss.

Lucas blushed. It’s not like that.

Oh come on, I shook my head and spooned a small portion of the pork into the middle of a tortilla. You can’t hide from me. I know you loved that girl since you were twelve.

That’s ridiculous. Lucas ducked his head and focused on his food. Like you said, that was forever ago.

Right. I chewed slowly. "That’s why you keep asking about her, keep trying to talk to her, and basically pine after her anytime she

walks by."

You’re insane.

And you’re love sick. I enjoyed the pibil. Lucas had held a torch for Natalia Brown since they broke up. It truly was Natalia’s loss. Lucas was the best person that I knew. He would never talk about a girl in the locker room or mistreat or cheat on her just to suit his own needs. He was a one in a million guy. I wasn’t sad that Natalia was missing out on that, however. As mean and self-righteous as it sounded, Natalia had a lot of baggage. If she ever settled down with a guy like Lucas, they’d both have a ton of issues to work through. I didn’t want that for my friend.

Can we drop this now? Lucas requested quietly.

I recognized the tone and closed my mouth, choosing to enjoy our lunch in silence. Tourists and locals strolled before us. Tall foreigners in skimpy bikinis with pale skin burnt to a crisp, painful pink strutted in leathers sandals and flip flops. The locals with tan skin and long hair trekked in cool, cotton clothing. Many wore straw hats on their heads to combat the dangerous rays of the sun. When we were finished, Lucas and I threw our garbage away in the trash and strolled down the boardwalk, leaving thoughts of Natalia Brown far behind.

CHAPTER 2

NATALIA

The white lace curtains over the windows fluttered in the breeze. Just beyond the French panes lay a picturesque view of the brilliantly green Caribbean Sea. It was Saturday afternoon and I’d been quite successful at checking off the most important tasks for the day: sleeping in and lounging in bed.

I stretched and stared up at the white ceiling with the white crown molding. My bedroom was my sanctuary. The walls, painted an elegant green a few shades lighter than the water outside, were decorated with professional photos of me and my friends. My bed took up most of the space with a white vanity dresser pushed against the wall and a walk in closet to my left.

My stomach growled and I buried my face in the pillow. If only a machine existed that could feed me with a single touch. On any other day, I could call for Ebony, the maid, and ask for a grilled cheese sandwich. Ebony made the best grilled cheese. Unfortunately, today was her day off. I had no other choice. If I wanted something to eat, I’d have to get it myself.

I groaned as I rolled out of bed. My feet sank into the plush cream carpet and I wiggled my painted toes. Yawning wide, I slipped into my house slippers and padded toward the door. I passed the mirror on my way. Something in the reflection caught my eye. I stopped and checked my figure and face. I patted my flat tummy in satisfaction and then peered closer at the mirror, pushing my face close to the clear glass in order to see my reflection. When I did, I cursed softly. Dark circles filmed under my eyes and the hint of wrinkles pulled at my mouth.

Blegh.

As soon as Daddy gave his okay, I’d look into surgery for that. Wrinkles terrified me. I knew I’d have to cut back on the partying to preserve my face. I touched my high cheekbones and pinched them to flick some color into my cheeks. I’d been approached by modeling agents several times during my teenage years. My big blue eyes and light blonde hair were classic features on a modern beauty. My height and small build discounted modeling as a serious career. Still, my face got me what I wanted. It was important to keep the treasure safe. I rubbed a dab of moisturizer in my skin and then trotted downstairs.

The house was big and empty. Mom lived in the States. Dad was probably down at the hotel. My parents were separated, having never been married. After enjoying a whirlwind romance, Mom and Dad had conceived me during Mom’s summer vacation to Belize when she was eighteen. I was a happy little accident, something Mom had disclosed during one of her sessions with her liquor cabinet. I’d been thirteen years old at the time. Pretty much messed up my life.

I shook the depressing thoughts and opened the refrigerator. I grabbed the cheese slices and padded to the stove to heat up the skillet. While I waited, I checked my phone and noticed a text from Bryce, my boyfriend.

Bryce and I had a … tumultuous relationship. We were open to seeing other people. I knew he cheated and he knew I did too. But we always came back to each other. At the end of the day, I was Bryce’s and he was mine.

Unfortunately, I was having some serious doubts about us. I could deal with a little infidelity. I mean, come on. Guys cheat. That was to be expected. My only demand was that Bryce keep his little bimbos far from me and my friends when he messed around. I didn’t want to know who he was cheating with. As long as we both stayed ignorant, our relationship worked. Last night at the Pebolito, a club near the beach, I’d spotted my boyfriend. His tongue was stuffed so deeply into some black girl’s throat I thought she’d choke to death. The sight disgusted me. Sometimes, I pretended that what Bryce and I had was good.

Last night reminded me that it was messed up.

He hadn’t even apologized. He knew I’d come back to him. Whatever he did, I’d always forgive him. Bryce was my first and he would be my last. I loved him more than life.

The phone rang and his picture popped up on the screen again. Rolling my eyes, I ignored the call and trekked to the stove. I popped two soft slices of bread into the skillet and pressed down on their soft centers with my spatula. The scent of toast bread filled the quiet kitchen. I yawned and glanced at my manicured hands. Maybe I could head to the spa and redo them. I shrugged and glanced back at the stove. The bread was ready for the cheese and I spread the delicate square on the warmed pastry. After two minutes, my lunch was ready. I sauntered to the living room and turned on the TV, set to enjoy my small lunch.

My phone kept ringing. I continued to ignore it. I needed some space from Bryce. My silence would make him angry. He’d undoubtedly try to hook up with one of my friends just to spite me. I didn’t care. His temper tantrums could not outlast mine. Groaning with frustration as my smart phone continued to chirp, I shut my phone off and decided to get ready for my night out. The girls hadn’t settled on a particular club. Perhaps we’d just hop from one to the other. I texted Tiffany, one of my closest friends who (according to her) had never messed with Bryce, and suggested we start at Gringo’s on the opposite side of the stretch. Heaving myself from the couch, I tossed my dirty plate into the sink and trotted up to my bedroom.

A few hours later, I sat amongst my friends in the smoky interior of Gringo’s. The cacophony of voices and sounds played over me. I inhaled the scent of cheap perfume and booze. The smells were familiar, calming. It felt like home. I smoothed down the fabric of my little red dress. I’d chosen the outfit because it flattered my body. Unlike Tiffany who had two papayas stuffed into her bra, all I had were apples at best. Push-up bras were my best friend.

"This place is so dead." Tiffany complained, tossing her raven black hair behind her shoulder. Her slanted eyes and cherry red mouth meant that guys sought her for her ‘exoticness’. She milked the attention just as much as I did.

It will pick up after ten, Cherry supposed, sipping on her drink. Cherry was a tall, coca-brown girl with glasses and a wide, open smile. Her father owned the most popular scuba diving company on the island. Every girl in my group was connected to some important or wealthy person in San Pedro.

I say we liven this place up. Tiffany said, choking back a shot and rising from the table. Come on, you. She dragged me to the middle of the dance floor. No one was occupying the weathered old platform so we basically had every eye on us. Uncomfortable, I tried to draw out of Tiff’s hand.

I think I’ll get another drink. I yelled at Tiffany.

She waved me away. Fine. She allowed.

I pressed forward toward the bar. Now that I was gone, Tiffany was getting plenty of company from two young guys who were grinding on her. She was in her element. Her wide smile and laughter rang out even across the room. I was glad that she was enjoying herself. She had a natural rhythm and grace that deserved the spotlight. I, on the other hand, preferred doing my dancing in the darkness. I preferred doing a lot of things in the darkness.

Hey, gorgeous. A deep voice rumbled. I turned and appraised the handsome man lounged around the bar. He had dark, wavy hair and seductive brown eyes. His scruffy beard could not hide the chiseled length of