We Are Not Amused

It was their mom.
"Zoe," she called, her voice partially muffled by the door. "Is Jon in there? I'm wondering if he's feeling up to eating some supper."
Jon suddenly felt very awkward; so much had changed in just a day; he wasn't sure how his mother would take it.
"umm...you could say that," Zoe replied. She glanced disconcertedly at her "brother," obviously thinking the same thing that he was.
"What do you mean?" replied his mother. "Is he in there or isn't he?"
Jon hesitated for only about a second more before being ceased by the decisiveness of his new personality. She's going to find out sooner or later, he reasoned.
With that, he leapt-up (even while his sister was still dithering) and yanked the door wide open, declaring: "She means that I'm in here...but that I'm not really 'Jon' anymore."
Their mother blanched, utterly aghast to see what had become of her son. Jon, for his part stood proudly before her, unapologetic.
After a long moment, their mother regained her powers of speech. "Who are you? Where's my son?" She demanded.
"I am your son," Jon replied. "Or at least...I used to be."
Both Jon and Zoe could plainly see that she knew this, but that she was now vainly attempting denial.
"No!" she sobbed. "No your not! My son is a handsome young man; he's an athlete...a boy!" she cried.
"I came down with GPAD," Jon said. He reached out a comforting hand toward her. "Mom..."
"Stay away from me!" she hissed, beating his hand aside. She thrust an accusatory finger out towards Zoe: "This is your fault!"
"My fault?" Zoe exclaimed indignantly. "I caused my brother to come down with a rare disease?"
"Yes!" their mother shouted, too distraught to notice Zoe's sarcasm. "With your satanic rituals, and your weird friends, and all of your black leather! I mean...look at him! He's like you!"
"And why is that a bad thing?" Zoe snapped. "You've always liked him more than you liked me! Always been so proud of him! Now you blame me because he changes!"
"Look at him!" Their mom snapped again. "He's sick! He has a disease! He needs a cure, not some...some...training to turn him into a goth slut like you!"
"You know, I'm in the room!" Jon snapped, surprising himself. His mother froze; she had never had him disagree with her before. It was yet another product of Jon's newfound self-assurance. He found he liked it. "You're allowed to talk to me!"
"You stay out of this," said their mom. "You're not in your right mind, you don't know what you're talking about!"
"I know precisely what I am talking about!" Jon shouted, his voice cracking upwards one last time. When he spoke again, he discovered that his voice was now just like that of any other girl. "This change..." he began; "This change is not a disease! It's a blessing!"
"My poor boy," his mother said, paying him no heed. "What have you done to him?"
"Zoe didn't do anything to me!" Jon said, refusing to be marginalized in the conversation. "All she did was accept me for the girl I am!"
His mother glared at him as he made that pronouncement.
"Yes that's right! That's what I am! I'm a girl! A woman! A chick, a dame, a female! And you know what? I'm not sorry at all! Not even a little bit! I prefer being this way. And I'm never going back, so stop calling me your son! I'm your daughter now. So you...can deal with that. Come on Zoe." And with that, she spun on her heel and made her way out of the room, her sister trailing after. He made a quick stop in his room to pick-up the wishing stone (not being a total idiot), put on some of Zoe's sandals and then she and her sister left the house.