All of them had it. Every single high school girl in Lake Point had NPH. There's treatment for it if caught early, and younger people stood better odds than older people, but many families cried themselves to sleep that night.
But the next morning, Jon woke up with a sense of determination. He could stop this. He could cure Billy Joel.
"I wish I was in Billy Joel's house right now," Jon spoke into his stone once he'd gotten dressed. And a moment later, there he stood in a large room with a vaulted ceiling, a giant wall of glass looking out into a curated garden on one side, a white set out couches creating a large "C" in the middle of the room, opening up into a great fireplace. Between the back of the sofa and the far wall sat a baby grand piano, and at this piano sat a small man, wrinkled and balding, with a scar on his head where they'd put a shunt to drain fluid buildup.
"Well, it's good to be a young man
And to live the way you please"
The words came softly from the man's mouth as his fingers danced across the keys.
"Yes, a young man is the king
Of every kingdom that he sees"
A pause. A sigh. For a moment, Jon thought maybe Billy Joel had spotted him, but no. These next words were softer still.
*"But there's an old and feeble man not far behind
And that surely will catch up to him
Somewhere along the line."
"Mr. Joel?" Jon finally made himself known.
The man pressed ten fingers down on his piano, producing a quick, discordant sound.
"I'm sorry," Jon approached the piano, "I think it's my fault. The Snuffleupagus."
"Kid, how did you get in here?"
"I can fix it, though."
The old man stood up, slowly. "I mean it. I can appreciate a dedicated fan, but I don't have the patience right now."
"I wish that Billy Joel's brain was 100% healthy."
An almost-imperceptible shift overcame the piano man. It was mostly in his eyes. They grew wider, more focused. The scar on his head disappeared, and he also seemed suddenly steadier on his feet.
Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "And I wish that he was a wide assortment of girls from 9th to 12th grade, reflecting the populace that I remember attending Lake Point High School before I ever made a wish on this stone."
The shift that followed was very perceptible. Have you ever seen the movie Gremlins, the part where Gizmo gets wet and he falls to the ground and starts vibrating and shaking and little balls pop out of his back that turn into more Mogwai? Imagine that, except instead of some small furry creature, it's a 76 year-old man. And instead of little balls that turn into more furry creatures, the soccerball-sized objects that are hurled to every corner of the room start growing arms and legs and tank-tops and skirts, until the entire living room, big enough to host a gala event, is standing-room-only full of teenage girls, girls that Jon could remember seeing in school hallways and in classrooms with him.
And as the last ball ejected itself from Billy Joel's back, the man himself began to change. Hair grew from his balding head. His skin smoothed out, his 5'5" frame slimming down. His black suit jacket disappeared as his sleeves and pant legs receded, revealing smooth tanned skin as they fled. Black hair turned blonde, and styled itself professionally while what remained of Billy Joel's clothes became a cheerleader's uniform.
A moment later, the spitting image of Sarah McMillan stood where once Billy Joel had been laying on the ground. And she turned to look directly at Jon with an expression of fury on her face.
"Give. Me. That. Stone."
