Depressed, Jody slumped onto her bed. "What a lousy day," she said to herself, "I hate school. Why do they always pick on me? It's not my fault if I'm not clever. I hate school."
Jody moved about on the mattress for a while, trying to get comfortable. She sat up, inserted her hands under the bottom of her shirt and unfastened the hooks of her bra. She slid the frilly white item off her generous bosom, feeling the weight of her breasts as the fleshy orbs nestled into their natural position in the absense of support.
She lay on her back and felt her breasts roll across her chest. "Much better," she said happily, the clasps of her underwear no longer digging into her back. She casually stroked her right breast while she wondered what she could do.
None of the other kids wanted to hang out with her, they'd avoided her ever since she'd started developing at the age of 8. Jody remembered when she was 10 years old, and the boys had teased her right in the middle of the street, running away from her and crying 'Watch out! You don't want to catch The Bumps!'
"Boys are idiots," she said to herself. "You can catch boobies like Chicken Pox... AS IF!" she punched the air half-heartedly, for punctuation.
She'd never had any girl friends. There were no other girls her age living in the neighbourhood. Besides, Jody liked to run about and climb trees and stuff. That was boy's stuff. All girls wanted to do was play with dolls and stuff.
Jody sighed, her running and climbing days were over. Her mom had told her this.
After half an hour, Jody decided that in the absense of anything else to do, she was thirsty. She stood up slowly and crept out of her room onto the landing, past the pair of antique chairs that no one was allowed to use. Her breasts bounced gently, even with her light movements.
"My running and climbing days are over," she said sulkily, aping her mother's words.
Then she spied the trapdoor in the ceiling, the entrance to the attic. In an instant the cord was pulled and the ladder slid down to the floor. It took Jody a minute to keep her balance on the ladder, and another minute to climb up. The attic was dusty and the air was brown. Pale light shone through the old, small, circular window set in the long wall that overlooked the house's front garden. It was just enough light for Jody to see what she was doing. What she was doing was looking through the old cardboard boxes and wooden crates, full of old junk. Not all of it was her mom and dad's junk, either! There was a lot of stuff left over from the people who lived here before. After some searching she came across a small wodden chest, which looked really really old.
She held it in her small hands, wondering if the little keyhole on the front was at all locked, when she heard a car pull up in front of the house.
"Oh no! Mom!!"
Jody hastily climbed down the ladder with the wooden chest tucked under one arm. She ran to her room, ignoring the pain in her swinging bosom, and threw the little chest toward her bed. She didn't wait to see where it landed, instead dashing back to the ladder. Standing on an antique chair she heaved it back into its folded position and with no small effort heaved it into the loft space. She closed the trapdoor, rosey-cheeked and out of breath, and returned the antique chair to its proper place as her mom came through the front door.
"Hi Mom!" she yelled as she went back into her room.
"Hi Jody," replied her mother, as she went into the cloakroom.
The wooden chest had missed the bed entirely and crashed against the wall behind it. Jody saw that the lid had become detached and the two halves of the chest lay face down on the duvet. Tentatively, she picked up the bottom half in her hands and saw inside a stone and a piece of paper. She reached for the paper first. It was a letter. Jody read aloud:
"Dear Jon, who's that? The guy who used to live in this house?" Jody pondered. She read on.
"If you are reading this, it means I have passed on. Do not mourn my leaving; although we shall no longer be able to spend time together, be happy knowing that where I am now is just a new start and a different perspective than before and that I shall just look at it as my next great adventure," Jody read. "Huh?"
"The stone you find in this box is my legacy to you. Treat it with care, it does not look much, but has immense power. I have entrusted it to you, as my favourite grandson... ooh, grandson! Jon must have been a kid who lived here! Okay!"
"I found the stone on my latest expedition to South America and I believe it to be of Incan origin. How it works, or where it came from beyond that, I have no idea. Jeez, this guy goes on..."
"Bear with me on this next bit; I know it sounds fantastic, but trust me when I tell you that I am telling the truth. All I say is real and it will not take much exper-iment-ation for you to prove it," she read, quite excited.
"While holding the stone against your flesh," Jody giggled, "(I recommend just holding it in your hand as the simplest approach), awww... simply use the words 'I wish' followed by whatever it is you want the stone to do. There is no limit to the number of times you can do this... eeeeeeeee!" Jody screamed with glee.
She threw the letter aside and grabbed the stone. It was small, about an inch across and cold to the touch, and slightly reddish in colour. Jody pressed it against her bosom and sighed happily.
"With this little thing, I'll never be unhappy again! I hope it works," she looked at the ceiling. "I wish....
