A Silver Lining - Part 2

Later that day, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, we were all sitting around the picnic table on the porch.

I felt the cold lemonade gliding down my throat, fading in my chest. It was hard to ignore the fact that I was inhabiting my sister, Amy’s body. I tried not to fixate on my cleavage as I sipped the drink. I could feel my sister's eyes on me.

Amy was always the one with a bubbly personality, eager to make everyone happy. I tried to adopt some of her behaviors, giggling and fidgeting with my hair, but it felt awkward and forced.

My mother chuckled and said, "Jimmy, you're really starting to grow into that body of yours. It's so much fun to watch you become more and more like Amy."

Amy stared daggers at me, “Really, Mom? He’ll never be like me.”

I couldn't help but blush. At the same time, the suggestion that I was acting like Amy was weirdly intoxicating and made my heart flutter.

It was almost as if acting more like her was turning me on. I decided to lean into it.

The conversation turned towards Amy’s singing lessons that she had recently started. Amy mentioned something about a new song she had learned. We both knew the artist. Eager to impress, I cleared my throat and began to sing unprompted.

To my surprise, the song emerged from my lips as if I had always been the one to sing it. The words flowed easily, and I even hit some of the high notes flawlessly.

I continued to sing, drawing out each note and holding the final chord for a dramatic pause. As I let out a final note, I couldn't help but add a twirl, just as Amy would do. My father nearly choked on his food, clearly impressed.

Amy simply stared at me, her eyes wide and filled with something I couldn't quite place - jealousy, perhaps? Anger, maybe?

But then she smiled, a sickly sweet smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "Well, aren't we the little diva now, Jimmy?"

"Um, yeah, I guess," I stammered, feeling embarrassed and unsure of what to say or do.

My mother reached over and patted my shoulder, giving me a reassuring smile, “That was beautiful, honey!”

"I'm just being Amy, Mom," I said, “Her voice, not mine.”

Dad nudged me playfully, "You sound so much like her, it’s incredible."

I couldn't help but smile, slightly embarrassed yet thrilled by their compliments.

"So, Amy, were there any cute boys in your singing class?" I asked, trying to change the conversation, slightly attempting to mimic Amy's flirtatious tone.

“Why? You wanna date them?”

“No, I-" I stammered, feeling a sudden flutter in my chest, as if my body was reacting to her words in a way I didn't expect or understand.

"Yeah, you're not that kind of girl, are you?" Amy retorted, trying to regain some of her dominance.

That shut me up quickly.

For the rest of the evening, I found myself mimicking Amy's mannerisms, her way of talking. My mother and father seemed to notice, but they also seemed to enjoy the change in my demeanor. I felt like a different person, a girl, and it was an exhilarating feeling.