The moment Jon heard Colin Mochrie's hands clap together, the man disappeared. Now getting his bearings, Jon realized that Karyn had blonde hair. If time had rewound, this should be before Karyn made that wish. But also, it should be before Jon made his wish for something interesting.
So rewinding time, it seemed, didn't negate active wishes. It was as though they had always been true. Jon's thoughts were interrupted.
"Hey, Jon-boy! How's it going? Good break?" Karyn asked.
Jon shook his head to clear it. Maybe if time had been re-wound, he could prevent Karyn from making another ill-fated wish. He could simply not tell her about the rock.
"Say, what's in that box?"
"Uh, nothing" Jon hastily moved it from his lap and placed it underneath his bookbag, which sat next to him on the wall.
A clever grin formed on Karyn's face that Jon didn't like, and a moment later she'd hopped down off of the wall and made a move to go around Jon.
The boy, obviously, made his own move, but the material of his unfamiliar navy skirt caught on the rough surface of the wall. The skirt nearly flipped up on him as his feet touched the ground, causing an instinctive reaction that brought his hands down around his thighs.
And it was while Jon was thusly distracted that Karyn maneuvered around him and grabbed for the box that was under his bookbag.
"It's a stone?" she asked. "It's just a stone?"
"Put it back in the box!" Jon cried.
"No, I want to see it."
"Karyn, please!"
"Listen, it's your fault for not stopping me," Karyn put a hand on her hip. "Don't get me wrong, that skirt does look cute on you, but you know you're not graceful enough to move around a lot while you're wearing it."
It was in that moment that Karyn noticed Sarah McMillan on the other side of the yard, followed by her usual entourage of drooling, overmuscled football players and other assorted testosterone-fueled flunkies.
"I kinda wish you could move in a skirt the way Sarah McMillan does." Karyn finished her thought as the stone flashed in her hand.
And a moment later, the stone was no longer in her hand, as Jon had snatched it away, now moving effortlessly in his pleated navy skirt, one hand delicately placed on a deliberately-cocked hip. He still looked the same, he was still Jon, but he was carrying himself with Sarah McMillan's body language.
