After a moment that seems to stretch itself out into an eternity, I finally work up the courage to open my eyes, and my breath catches in my throat as I see a room only vaguely recognizable as the one I was in just moments ago. Something feels wrong, but I push it out of my mind for now. I blink and shift, noticing every subtle difference in the way my body moves, things everyone else would be long accustomed to. Twin weights hang off my chest, pulling slightly on my shoulders, cupped in a supporting undergarment. My T-shirt turned into a thin, plain blue top, undeniably feminine. My pants likewise turned to jeans that are not quite form-fitting, though they are tighter. Thin, straight hair falls in my face when I look down, and I turn my attention to my room.
My room is, in a word, filthy. It's lit by a shadeless lamp on the dresser; the bulb is sort of dim. A pile of clothes lay in front of the dresser, a few stuffed animals are thrown about the room, and discarded food wrappers disguise any trace of carpet or floorboard. Burger King and Krispy Kreme, for the most part. On the far side of the room is a vanity with various types of makeup covering the table, and... a mirror! I rush over to it, staring into the mirror at my new face.
A plain face stares back, about as pretty as I had once been handsome. Her brown hair has a tinge of grey in it, a streak and then a few stray hairs. At sixteen? I think, and her face contorts into an expression matching my own. A car pulls up outside my window, leaving the engine running.
Sorta pudgy, I think as I grip my new midriff "“ there's just enough of it. My new and old face are both naturally thin, so it doesn't show much. And I've got a cute smile. "Well... this is me," I say quietly, slowly, experimentally. My voice is... typical. Nothing to turn heads, like the rest of me. "Hello, world," I blurt out, waving at the mirror and giggling. Stepping slowly, reluctantly from the mirror, I give my reflection one last smile before I turn away and suddenly realize what's wrong. I don't smell dinner.
Running out of my room like the kitchen's on fire, I dash down the hall, only later noticing the lack of stairs. The living room is equally unfamiliar, with a beat-up couch, an old TV, and a few furnishings and decorations, including a pink flamingo in the corner. At the door, a thin woman in pajamas is talking to a pizza delivery boy. Who is she? Is that Derek? It's difficult to recognize him without the eyeliner.
"I've got the money, don't worry, but we've got so little. Are you sure there's nothing else I could do to pay for the pizza?" the woman asks, and Derek the pizza boy looks scandalized, to say the least.
"Well, ma'am, we accept credit cards but only if you pay for it in the store..." he mumbles, blushing.
She turns around to see me, and my breath catches in my throat. It can't be... mom? I stare at the disheveled, gaunt woman before me, stunned by the difference; not just physical. The fire in her eyes is gone, replaced by nothing but a lifeless face. "...talie?Are you listening?"
I jump a little bit, realizing belatedly that her mouth is moving. "Mom?"
That can't be her. Is it a foster family? Oh my God, where are Zoe and Mikey? Smiling, she turns back to the pizza boy. "Surely my daughter can help," she declares, gesturing to me. He follows her hand to me, and his eyes widen as he realizes what she's suggesting at about the same time I do.
"No! What the hell is wrong with you, lady? That's sick. Uh, no offense," he says, looking at me. I shrug, stunned, the last thirty seconds replaying endlessly in my mind. Surely my daughter can help...
"None taken..." I murmur, staring at my mother. In the background, he hurries off back to his car with the pizzas in tow.
She turns to me and sighs. "Oh well, we tried, honey."
That simple phrase makes me freeze, and some part of me screams, but I can't do anything but cry. The tears spring unbidden to my eyes, blurring my vision as I run the short distance back to my room. I jump onto my bed, sobbing into a pillow. A hand brushes my back and I jerk violently away, shutting my eyes tightly and turning my head. "Go 'way," I mumble, and she huffs angrily, but after a moment she leaves, footsteps landing heavily on the carpet. The new feeling of my body is a scant comfort; for once, I don't feel out of place in my own skin, but I'm so far from home I don't think there's a way back.
"I want to go home," I whisper to myself, resisting the urge to go get the stone. It won't help. I could wish away my little imperfections, I could wish Mikey and Zoe were back, but in the end I wouldn't feel like me, and they wouldn't be them. I just want to sleep... and like that, my thoughts are washed away by a deep sleep.
