Megan stammered. It was hard for her to concentrate on the answer to such an odd question while she was watching what was going on. In horror, she turned away.
"Megan!" Nick's voice creaked up unnaturally. Megan shrieked in horror.
"Nick, what's going on?"
No reply except for Nick's exasperated breathing. Slowly, Megan turned, but her eyes widened in horror when she saw her own self at a younger age - she couldn't tell what - doubled over on the floor, in a pool over Nick's clothes that had fallen off. Nick, with the figure of young Megan, paused a while before modestly trying to cover herself with the clothes she'd just been wearing.
"Megan!" barked her younger self, impatiently. She quickly closed her mouth, unable to believe her new voice.
"Nick? Oh my God, Nick??" Megan half-whispered in disbelief.
Nick the young Megan gestured to the medallion. "See this thing? It's magic, and now, because I touched that shirt of yours, it turned me into... this!"
"You're me?" Megan couldn't believe it at all.
"For at least 12 hours," she said with an anger not common for little girls. She snarled and clutched the men's shirt and trousers.
Megan giggled just a little bit, "Well then you may as well relax, because you haven't got anything down there I never saw." That comment did not amuse Nick-Megan, who felt her situation was dire. She crept over to the full-length mirror, which was about her height.
That's when they noticed a fresh cut on her forehead. "Oh my God," Nick-Megan gasped, thinking it was some kind of side-effect. Megan recognized the cut, however.
"I remember now," she recalled, "I was wearing that shirt one day, when I was 12, and I fell down the stairs. That's when I got that cut." The elder Megan indicated a small, barely visible scar on her forehead, above her right eyebrow, the very same as Nick-Megan's. "I'll get you a band aid."
The Nick-Megan relaxed her tenuous hold on her clothes. She didn't feel comfortable looking at a naked 12-year-old girl to begin with, but the fact that it was her in the mirror bothered her all the more. The real Megan returned with a band-air and a robe. Nick-Megan wrapped the robe about herself as tightly as possible, and Megan, who had to bend down slightly, applied the band air.
Nick had not been an overly tall man, but the sensation of being 4'6" girl was overwhelming. She glanced again into the mirror. She was Megan all right - she saw that same sparkle in her own eyes that Nick had come to love in Megan.
"12 Hours" she muttered to herself, sat down, and starting to cry.
