The older boy smiled at him. He still had a nametag on his fingertip. "Sorry," he said. "Here it is back." He said, moving his hand toward Mikey's chest...
He slapped the nametag to Mikey's chest. Mikey looked down at it. "This isn't mine," he insisted. But the moment gave the other boy a chance to give him the slip.
Mikey had other problems at that moment though. The ground began to move away from him...and suddenly he realized it wasn't the ground moving, it was him. His legs and arms were growing longer. But his clothes didn't rip. His pants were beginning to look like shorts by the time he stopped. He was as tall as an adult.
There tingling sensation in his mind. He looked down to watch the cartoon character fade away from his shirt. He frowned. He couldn't clearly remember who it had been. The shirt lost all color. It looked clean and fresh, unlike one of Mikey's shirts, and was growing more formal.
Cartoons and video games were fading from Mikey's mind, replaced by numbers...dollar signs mostly, but other meaningful numbers. And there was a hunger. A desire to succeed, to climb the ladder of success rung by rung...
The time for children's games were over, Michael thought as he stretched out an arm, watching the mangled and chewed fingernails at the end grow several inches. The pressure continued to build, as a ruthless attitude took him over, overwhelming the child part of him.
That attitude demanded the changes continue. He couldn't work looking so unprofessional. His t-shirt had become a sexy white blouse, his pants a very short black miniskirt, and black 3-inch heels had replacedhis grubby sneakers.
Despite the fact she was still the same person, there was very little apparent similarities between the young Mikey and the businesswoman standing there, wearing the 'Hello, my name is Michelle' nametag. She flipped open a cell phone that had appeared in her hand. She had someone she wanted to call.
