“Jon! Er-mom! I don’t know what they said over the phone, but it isn’t what it sounds like,” Zoe stumbled, not knowing what to call him. “Wait? Did you do your makeup? It's actually not that bad either… I’m really screwed, aren’t I?”
Before Jon could go into detail about how dearly screwed she was, the office door peeked open just slightly enough to allow Mr. Mahoney's voice to slither out and invite them in. He was a newer hire, rarely left his desk, and rumored to have been bounced from his last school. No one knew why he had been fired, but coupled with how weird he was around the female student body made for some potent rumor fodder. In short, Mahoney was more slime than man and a capital C, Creep. “Ahh. Miss Gibson. I’m glad you could join us. Please, step into my office so we can go over some of your daughter’s recent activities.
In a few moments, Jon’s confidence had been completely sapped. Somehow, that greasy vice principal had made it feel like he was the one in trouble. Whereas before, Jon was tall enough to see that man's pathetic comb over which made it easier to take his rants less seriously. But now, having to look up to that short man, made Jon feel even more like a small, pathetic kid.
Even Zoe’s little accidental misnaming threw him. Sure, he’d much rather Zoe see him and think of as ‘Jon’ rather than ‘mom’. But that utterance took him out of the moment and made him feel very much like silly boy wearing a bra, and not the confident Sandra he was hoping to get through this as.
Trying to refocus and remember he wasn’t the one here getting written up with Zoe, he tried to re-gain character and focus on the long spiel the vice principal was all too eager to launch into.
“Breaking and entering. Illegal use of staff equipment. Theft. These are all crimes, Miss Gibson. These are all matters which usually involve law enforcement so you should feel lucky that we can handle this on an academic level when your daughter should be treated like a criminal. I think a week’s suspension is a fair starting point. Banned from Student Newspaper seems obvious. Oh, yes and absolutely no performing with the cheer team should be a good start to atone for the damages and-”
“Wait, that's all pretty extreme. What did Zoe even do?” Jon interjected, thinking he must have missed something. His toe tapped at a quicker rate and something odd stirred in Jon's belly at the way this potato of a man was talking about Zoe.
“Ah, she didn’t tell you? Zoe and a few of her friends broke into the teacher’s lounge and printed off hundreds of copies of her article, distributing them freely, and lazily, down the halls of the school. Zoe had been given a warning already in her Journalism class about the contents of her article, but chose to push on anyway after it wouldn't be cleared for print."
“I don't think I'm understanding because if I am, it sounds really stupid, Are you punishing her for handing out fliers? Is that all? Am I missing something? You also said she stole something?”
“Ink! Paper and ink!” the spittle was flying off his tongue, vein pulsing in his head at Jon’s obsolescence. “And the littering from scattering her trash all over the halls!”
It was at this point Zoe wanted to curl up and disappear into the corner when Jon surprised her with a few words that even defused the erupting Mahoney. “Can I see it? The thing, the article that Zoe wrote?”
Mr. Mahoney was twitching in anticipation to get back to screaming as he handed the paper over. He was soon back to ranting about discipline and standards when Jon proceeded to surprise Zoe again, by actually reading her article.
“...And that’s why, I feel I have no choice but to make an example out of Zoe as a sign that such disruptive behavior won’t be tolerated and reign in whatever is going on in Jou-”
“She cited her sources,” Jon said with barely a whisper.
“What was that, Miss Gibson?” Mr. Mahoney gasped, finally having a second to catch his breath in between ranting.
“Zoe cited her sources. She did her research,” Jon straightened up in his chair. “She unironically used MLA formatting. And the whole thing was really well written. I mean, did you read this? I had no clue about Alexander de Joliette and Zoe painted a really clear picture of why the gym shouldn’t be named after that monster.”
“Miss Gibson, I can’t believe I’m hearing you defend your daughter’s little stunt as anything more than a temper tantrum.”
“I know what Zoe writes when she’s upset and it doesn't include a works cited page. She writes poetry when she’s angry, clever but mean little things about the thing that’s frustrating her and I know I’ve been the subject of more than a few, but this? Actual journalism? She did this because she really cares about this cause and not going to a school that has a slaver and murder’s name decorating their gym.”
“It hardly matters what the reasons she acted on, she still broke school policy-”
“After going through the normal channels. I heard you say she tried to get this printed in the school paper, right?” Jon knew his fishing was getting close to something.
Grabbing a tissue to dab some sweat from his head, Mahoney continued, “She did and while I had to override the teacher in charge for letting it run-”
“Oh, so you’re the one who decided to censor her? In a class you don't even teach? Because why, some old history fart was your hero? I can’t wait to make this go viral, ‘School punishes cheerleader to protect racist history!’ Are you seeing now how this might be a bad look?” Jon fished Sandra’s phone from her purse, unlocking it with his thumbprint.
“No, this is about vandalism and accountability,” Mahoney’s voice cracked. "There's no ill intent. I'm doing my job."
“I don't think anyone scrolling through their phone is going to see it that way. In fact, I imagine there will be quite a bit of attention paid to your role in all this. And doesn't that sound like fun?" Jon's usual gentle tone became much more pointed. " A bunch of internet sleuths, searching, digging up all sorts of facts because of the story you created?”
Mahoney gulped.
"I imagine most of the students are already sharing Zoe's article. The worst thing you can do to fan the flames is punish her. So really, you have two options here- suspend Zoe, side with racists, and poor gasoline on this whole situation because of maybe $30 dollars in damages. Or the one I think is the winner, don't punish her, publish her article on the school website, thank her for bringing light to this history, and then, I don't know. Rename. The. Freaking. Gym. Sound like a plan?"
Zoe stood slack-jawed, not fully believing the spectacle that had just taken place. She had never seen Jon so fired up. Ususally he was so calm, gentle, and awkward as Sandra but this fire breathing monstrosity that de-fanged the school's attack dog in minutes shocked her. She had been fully ready to take her lumps, knowing how these things usually play out, but this turn was a wonderful surprise. It was just another reminder, Jon wasn’t that old mom. He actually cared enough to read her writing, even if she would have to yell at him later for reading her poetry. Jon was awesome in comparison. Sandra was awesome.
Standing up to leave, Jon continued. “Well, we hope you decide to do the right thing. This school could use more kids like Zoe. And I’m checking Zoe out for the rest of the day. All this stress has her stomach feeling queasy, isn’t that right?”
Zoe caught the cue and quickly wiped the big, goofy grin she had plastered on her face, trying to look as pathetic as possible. “Oh yeah, real nauseous,” her face soured.
They had completed their escape from Mr. Mahoney’s gym equipment storage room turned office when he caught them with a “Wait!” Beaten but not slain, Clark Mahoney had one last card to play. “There’s still the matter of Zoe’s F in Geometry you'll need to sign for and a mandatory Saturday study hall...”
“That was awesome! I’ve never seen anyone get MaHORNY so tongue tied! I can’t believe you stood up for me, mom’s never done anything like that.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t really planning to. Just wanted to keep my head down and get out of there. Then he called you a criminal and I realized what you were trying to accomplish and I had to say something. I’m sure mom would have done the same thing if she would have been in that office today. You're doing the right thing, how would she not be supportive?”
“Actually, she was. She sat through that meeting, that is. This kinda already happened before and mom sorta… didn’t care. She was just annoyed that she had to come and get me again. She definitely didn’t take the tiem to read what got me into this mess. And I definitely got a lot more than a Saturday school detention”
“I didn’t know that.” Jon thought pensively. “So is that why you came into my room so upset when you made the wish? Because you couldn’t stop the gym naming? Or because you and mom sat there and let you fry?”
“Jon, mom always gives up on me. I know you don’t see it because you’re not always around, but mom’s been extra judgmental lately and butts heads with me on everything. She can be so close-minded and I just didn’t want her to be my mom anymore. You wouldn't understand.” Looking more and more flustered, Zoe continued, “I’m sorry I made the wish, but, can we just… not talk about why right now? I really don’t want to get into it.”
“Fine.” Jon had definitely learned over the years when Zoe was at her limit and to stop prying unless he be willing to lose some fingers. “I’ll drop it, but you’re not completely off the hook for dragging me to school as Sandra. I think making you wear all pink to Saturday detention might be a fair bit of revenge.”
“Oh come on, I figured you were going to let me ditch that. It’s basically at the end of your mom-term and no one’s going to remember it happened anyway. CPS isn’t going to haul you away for one missed detention. And I’m definitely not wearing pink.”
“I think it’s only fair. Seeing my goth sister get the full Molly Ringwald treatment like the spoiled cheerleader she’s become seems like a fitting bit of justice for all the girly humiliation you’ve put me through.”
“Molly Ringwald?”
“You know, the actress? I forget the name of her in the movie but, c’mon Saturday school? Like in the Breakfast Club? You see what I’m going for here?”
“If I’m supposed to understand, in the slightest, what you’re referencing, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“C’mon? Really? You don’t know the Breakfast Club? It’s a classic 80’s movie! Jon Bender, pack of smokes, stupid dancing, and ‘Don’t You Forget About Me?’ None of this is ringing any bells?”
“Maybe it’s a good thing my wish worked out the way it did Jon, at least now your taste in movies matches your age.”
“Hey!” Jon playfully shoved his sister. “If you’re trying to make fun of me for being old, it won’t work. I’m still 17 where it matters.” Jon couldn’t remember the last time Zoe wore such a consistent smile. Only a curious, onlooking glance from a student teacher reminded Jon that he was still not out of the woods and needed to be in character. This fun banter with Zoe was actually blowing his cover.
“So Zoe…” Jon took the conversation down to a whisper, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but with all the confusion and slip ups we’ve had… I think, maybe, it’d be best if we do the sensible thing and you just call me ‘mom’ until we’re both back to normal. I think it’s just easier that way and draws the least attention. But please, and I really mean it, don’t ever joke about forgetting I’m still your brother in here.”
“No, of course. I think I can do that, mom.”
And there it was, like warm socks, fresh from the dryer or a big hug from an old friend, Zoe’s soft words were like a weighted blanket for his soul. When said that tenderly, mom wouldn’t be a bad name at all.
The drive home, Jon was able to fill Zoe in on some of the important details of the day, revealing his concerns over the stone’s new dye job and how he wanted to figure out what had caused the color change from red to blue in Grandpa’s journals. Which meant he and Zoe had a lot of extracurricular reading to get to before the week was up if they were going to get his un-wish just right.
When the question of how Jon got the journals was posed, Jon’s interesting brunch with their former mom Linda came up and Zoe once again pounced on the topic when Jon complained about some of her behavior.
“Isn’t she the worst?!”
“She wasn’t great, but she’s still our mom… but yeah, would it kill her to be so...”
With Jon opening that door just a little bit, Zoe barged in and the two found a lot of common ground venting and dissecting Linda’s passive aggressive tendencies. Apparently, this behavior was nothing out of the ordinary for Zoe. And honestly, they both needed a good, long gripe session.
At home after struggling to unload all of granddad’s boxes, Jon and Zoe tried to settle in, focus, and begin reading page after page of handwritten notes, mostly receipts and other banal journal entries, searching for some hint of… Yeah, their focus didn’t last long.
“Maybe we should start researching another time. After all, it’s been a day.”
“It’s been a day that’s felt like two days. We deserve a break. These journals aren’t going anywhere.”
“You could always show me that movie you were talking about.”
Jon didn’t need much convincing to wiggle out of his sweater and jeans and into pajamas as fast as Sandra’s tushie would allow. He dressed in the dark to avoid seeing any more of Sandra than necessary, sighing in relief as he unclasped his bra and feeling his ta-tas linger freely. He had gotten better, only playing with them a couple times before throwing on a clean set of pajamas, pulled blindly from Sandra’s dresser. Feeling yet another waistband get stretched to its limit to accommodate his paddy wagon, Jon sighed. With or without seeing his reflection, there was no escape from feeling every inch of his mature, woman’s body.
Quick to move on, Jon’s dark dressing had unfortunately adorned him in a very frilly and pastel set of nightwear. Zoe joined soon after, sporting her own version of the princess-y, girly bedtime look and a wordless, tacit agreement was quickly made that any wardrobe teasing would be mutually assured destruction. So Jon ordered a pizza, still cringing at being called ma’am, while Zoe found which of their streaming services had The Breakfast Club.
Then pizza arrived and Jon hid, having recognized the driver. Zoe paid and teased Jon a bit, but they soon decided to dig in and watch and laugh and enjoy the cheesiness of the 80s and the pie, with Zoe admitting at the end, it was actually ‘pretty good’. They then made some popcorn and started St. Elmo’s fire. And then Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
Huddled under a blanket because they couldn’t figure out the thermostat, Jon noticed Zoe had fallen asleep on his shoulder, snoring softly, just before they got to the museum scene..
He couldn’t remember the last time Zoe had cuddled up to him or fallen asleep on him. He could think of a couple cross country car rides but that was more out of necessity and less… less whatever this comfort and familiarity was now. She really wasn’t the affectionate type, at least since puberty had made her too sharp and sarcastic for that. He tried to imagine how old Zoe must have been the last time she felt comfortable enough to be close with him, feeling a strange nostalgia, familiar but uncanny, as his mind pictured his sister back in her adorable, primary school era. I never thought I’d miss those days so much, reminiscing in a much different way about his childhood.
Too relaxed, comfortable, and full to do much else but be taken away by sleep, Jon resolved to do better tomorrow. With the next day, he’d get to work and make sure there will be no more hiccups or oversights when he wishes for his life back. Everything would need to perfect.
And somewhere, somewhere closer than you’d think, Sandra was probably screaming at Jon, dying to lecture him about where all that extra butter would wind up. In the brief moment between dreaming and awake, Jon may have even heard her.
