Jill Gorin drove down the suburban street of Jackson Avenue looking for the address. The GPS announced the address would be on the right in one-quarter of a mile. Still, she couldn't see the entrance from here.

Jill was going to check out the preschool for her daughter. This was her first child and thus the first time she ever had to look over a school. The Stafford School for Budding Childhood Wisdom was highly recommended to her by some of the people she trusted the most. Despite the recommendations, Jill felt compelled to check out the preschool institution for herself. She became more and more apprehensive as her car neared the entrance.

The school was offset from the street. Due to the lawn with a variety of trees and bushes the school building itself couldn't be seen from the road. But a sign, held aloft by two white cylindrical polls broadcast to the world the turnoff to enter the school property.

Jill made the turn and headed to the guest parking lot. She had to make a right turn to pass the school on the way. On the left side of the school, little four-year-old Eric Arlin hid from sight. Eric was a handsome child wearing a red and dark gray striped shirt, jeans, white socks, and black sneakers with a yellow Nike swish. He was taking a smoke break. His Marlboro cigarette was about a quarter smoked. He would spend another three or four minutes outside until he was done. Inside his front pocket was an opened pack of cigarettes that was full except for three cigarettes. At 10:00 that was all he had smoked today.

Smoking wasn't allowed in the school building. Those that wanted to smoke had to smoke outside. But even if smoking was allowed there, there was an unspoken rule that anyone who smokes shouldn't be seen doing so by any of the parents of the students and certainly not allow the preschoolers to see them smoking. Thus, those who wanted to smoke had to do so at the sides of the school building. The back of the building wasn't appropriate since the outside playground and grassy activities area was there.

Eric wasn't always a smoker, although he remembered smoking for decades. He was just one of the victims of the Role Swapper who had just visited his school.

Jill didn't see the little boy smoking. She parked her car and then texted the school to announce her arrival.

“I just got here,” Jill messaged her contact at the school.

“Are you in the school?” Mrs. Jaffers replied.

“No, the parking lot.”

“OK, I'll meet you at the front entrance.”

“I'll be there in two minutes.”

“See you soon.”

Jill exited her car. She wasn't sure how to dress to look over a preschool. She dressed nicely wearing a white spread-collar cotton shirt with long sleeves and button cuffs. Her top two buttons were open, but there wasn't a hint of her cleavage to be seen. She paired it with gray pleated ankle-length stove pipe slacks and white ballet flats. She slung her black chain wallet shoulder bag over her shoulders and walked briskly to the front entrance.

Jill looked over the building as she walked. The Stafford School was a one-floor brick building with white trim running across the top. The windows and doors were all painted white. Bushes were planted under each of the windows. Four columns held up the triangular awning at the center of the building at the main entrance. Decorative benches underneath the awning gave visitors and those waiting for the children a place to sit.

Entering the building, Jill saw the security guard waiting at his desk. There didn't seem to be any metal detectors at the entrance.

Jill sighed and she thought, “There is security everywhere, even preschool.” Jill remembered it differently from when she was a child. Maybe there was security, but Jill didn't notice it thirty years ago.

“Hello how can I help you?” the uniformed security guard asked pleasantly. Jill couldn't see stocking feet, nor his high-heeled pumps. The six foot two security office didn't wear his pumps while sititng, they were hidden out of sight under his desk. He would put them on if he needed to stand.

“I'm here for the tour. Mrs. Jaffers was supposed to meet me.”

“One second.”

“I got it, I got it,” a young woman called out.

Jill looked up and saw who she thought was Mrs. Jaffers approaching. Mrs. Jaffers wasn't as Jill expected. Jill expected an older woman as Jill was told that Mrs. Jaffers was one of the assistant principals. The woman who approached couldn't be more than 22 years old. She was dressed in a slouchy fit cream-white blazer atop a floral shirt that is tucked into black slim-fit jeans. The look was certainly professional, but her youthful appearance surprised Jill.

There wasn't any way to know, that when this woman woke up in the morning, she wasn't Mrs. Jaffers. The Role Swapper had swapped Mrs. Jaffers with one of the junior staff that worked in the main office. At this moment, the real Mrs. Jaffers, a woman in her sixties, was running hundreds of copies for the teachers and the office.

“Welcome to The Stafford School!” the woman said cheerily. “Are you ready for the tour?”