If anyone had told me a week ago that I’d wake up in Elena Prescott’s body, flunk a math test, and get dragged into a political matchmaking event by her terrifying mother, I would’ve laughed in their face.

Now, sitting in her seat, in her classroom, in her body, all I could think was—

I wanted my life back.

Mr. Hadley slid a stack of graded papers onto his desk with a sigh that sounded like disappointment and doom rolled into one. “Elena Prescott,” he said, raising a brow. “Could ...