Thankfully Jon wasn't forced to walk back to Sally's room, and was instead dumped onto her bed. The tight heels were starting to hurt, and he noticed quickly the way he was laying down splayed across the bed like a girl, scrambling to a more respectable position. At least the weight of the purse wasn't bothering him anymore. "You look like a guy still, Jon... that's a problem. I know! Wait here. It's not like you can go anywhere anyway." Mikey ran off to the other side of the room, and came back a minute later to toss something on the bed which looked like a pile of hair.
Mikey had dropped a tiny brunette wig on the bed, and stared expectantly at Jon. "Well? Put it on. You can figure it out." Jon would have much preferred Mikey to put it on for him, to tell the truth; it felt like his choice this way. Finding the inside quickly, he fitted the wig over his head, immediately becoming annoyed at all the extra hair; doll hair, which made his nose itch. "Much better now! Cover up like that." Mikey adjusted the hair in an odd style: draped over his left eye and streaming down his back and shoulder, a style which, in this getup, screamed feminine.
Jon didn't want to look in the mirror in Mikey's room now, trying to avert his eyes, but they still kept wandering back, and he barely avoided it. Mikey dropped him onto the floor again and commanded him to walk; it was difficult with the hair obscuring half or more of his vision, his whole center of balance was out of whack, and he could barely stay standing, let alone moving. He wondered how long this torment would go on, and he felt like crying, at the absurdity of the situation, at the way he had gone from big brother to tiny dressup toy. A voice at the doorway compounded his problems. It was...
