Zoe thought a moment. How much did she want to torture her brother? Wasn't locking him out of his own room bad enough? Not entirely sure of herself, Zoe took the offered stone from Sarah, and said "I wish that Jon knew how to put together amazingly cute and girly outfits, and I wish that he was wearing one of his favorites right now."
Sarah looked admonishingly at Zoe. "That was technically two wishes. But I guess I'll let it slide this once. That was pretty funny. Now give me back the rock."
Zoe handed over the stone, but found herself appraising Sarah as she did so. Sarah's black halter top with pink polka dots wasn't horrible, and the skirt matched well enough, but she could do so much better. Adding different shades of pink, adding layers, more color. She couldn't contain herself. "Sarah, we have to get to my room."
Sarah barely got the word "why" past her lips before she found herself pulled out of Jon's bedroom, down a hallway, and into Zoe's. The two didn't even notice Jon as he stood in his white ballet flats, his white capris, and his fuzzy teal sweater, grateful that he'd somehow been given a reprieve.
Jon collapsed onto his own bed, looking up at the ceiling. He was glad he at least had his wardrobe to distract him from whatever Sarah was planning for him, but he supposed that Zoe now had a better fashion sense than he did.
Jon didn't want to be jealous of his little sister, but this went past jealousy. How could he have any sort of personal identity, any ambitions, if he knew there was someone out there who would always be able to outdo him? Jon started to feel nauseous, so he unbuttoned the tight-fitting, but amazing-looking, capris and slid to the top of his bed, burying his face in his pillow.
