Emily blinked. "Well, that's a ... weird idea."
"Wait, hear me out," Jane explained. She blushed. "I -- I admit I need to lose a few pounds--"
"--like eighty--"
"A FEW pounds, no need to obsess over stupid exact numbers or anything. And you could use a few more curves, right? I mean, you look like a Q-tip."
Emily frowned. "If I 'switch places' with you I'll look like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. Not exactly a step up."
"At least he's technically a ghost."
"TECHNICALLY, he's an avatar of an ancient evil made corporeal in order to destroy--"
"Okay! Whatever!" Jane waved one black-gloved hand. "Look, okay, so we don't literally switch weights. Pretty sure my skeleton alone weighs more than you, anyway. How about we just try to ... meet in the middle? I'll diet, and for every pound I lose, you have to gain a pound. How's that sound?"
"Hmm..." Emily considered it, then stuck out one corpse-pale hand for shaking. "All right. You've got my solemn oath."
"Uh, just like that? Okay, um, first weigh-in right now, second in two weeks, shall we say?"
"Whatever you say," Emily said airily. "I hope you realize that there's a very important reason why I agreed so quickly; you're never actually going to lose any weight."
"You might be surprised what I can do when I really, really try," Jane said grimly.
Emily tossed her ivory hair. "I'll believe THAT when I see it."
And that's just what she did in two weeks' time, when both girls hopped back on the scales and Emily discovered to her utter shock Jane had lost a solid eight pounds.
"B-but-but--" Emily stammered, "but how?"
"The right diet and exercise," Jane said. She hooked a thumb into the waistband of her Torrid sweatpants, the black ones with the silver spiderweb applique, and snapped the band a couple of times against her waist. They actually had a little give in them now. "Speaking of special diets, you'd better strap on the feedbag if you want to catch up to me at our next weigh in."
She patted Emily's flat stomach. "Though I guess it isn't THAT hard to put on eight pounds in two weeks -- the dark gods know I managed by accident a couple of times. Still, you're out of practice."
"B-b-but--" Emily whined, her lower lip quivering.
"No buts. You swore an oath," Jane reminded her.
What could Emily do?
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