Karyn couldn’t help but smirk. It was awful, really — Jon was clearly pissed, scared, and miserable — but seeing that small, stroppy eight-year-old stomp ahead in oversized sneakers, grumbling under his breath, was undeniably cute. And funny.
“You know,” she said lightly, running her fingers through his now-thick, glossy hair, “this look is really working for you. Your hair’s so soft! And warm. And — wow, it’s perfect. Like shampoo-commercial perfect. No grease, no cowlicks. Just... flawless.”
Jon swatted her hand away. “Don’t do that, ass. This is such bullshit.”
His swearing earned glances from two passing teachers. Karyn caught them and leaned closer, grinning wickedly.
“Hey, language. You’re in a kid’s body now — people are watching. You’re supposed to say bum and crud, not shit and balls. It's un-boylike,” she said mockingly.
Jon flushed but stayed quiet, just raising his small middle finger at her in defiance.
Karyn laughed, then grabbed his hand. “Oh, great idea. Let’s hold hands! Like a sweet older sister walking her adorable little brother home.”
“Let go!” he barked, trying to tug free, but Karyn’s grip didn’t budge. Jon was shockingly weak now. Eventually, he gave up, grumbling. “Stupid body. Too young. Too tiny...”
Karyn smirked. Truthfully, Jon had never been especially strong, even at sixteen. Nerds, the both of them. This just made it literal.
When they finally got to his house, Jon didn’t think — he just rang the doorbell.
Big mistake.
His mom answered. “Oh, hi, Karyn! And… who’s this cutie?” she asked with a polite smile. “Jon’s not home right now.”
Karyn froze. Crap. Of course she wouldn’t recognize him. But no way could she explain this. Her own parents wouldn’t let her bring some random eight-year-old boy over to spend the night — especially not claiming he was her best friend in disguise.
She reached into her bag and pulled out the stone.
“Uh — hang on, Mrs. Madison.”
Before the woman could close the door, Karyn clutched the stone and spoke quickly:
“I wish that everyone except me and Jon believes he’s always been like this — always looked this way, always this age — and remembers him that way.”
The stone shimmered faintly in her palm.
When she looked up, Jon’s face said it all: sheer horror. His mouth opened like he was about to yell at her, but his mom was still standing right there.
She blinked slowly, confused. “Sorry, Karyn... your little brother just rang the doorbell?” Her gaze shifted to Jon. “Wait — what are you two doing here again?”
Karyn’s heart sank. That wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
“Oh, uh,” she said carefully, “we were looking for Jon. Your son?”
Mrs. Madison frowned, visibly thrown. “Karyn, I don’t have any kids. You know that. And I really need to get going — tell your mom I’m looking forward to dinner on Saturday.”
And then she closed the door.
Jon turned to Karyn with pure murder in his eyes. “What. Did. You. Do.” he hissed. “I’m your brother now? What the fuck, Karyn?!”
She winced. “Okay — yeah — that came out way wrong.”
“You think?!”
“Hey! Chill out!” she snapped. “It’s not ideal, I get that, but it was the only way to stop your mom from kicking us both off the porch like we were Jehovah’s Witnesses. At least now you have somewhere to stay.”
Jon crossed his arms, pouting. “I swear, if you call me ‘cute’ again, I will bite you.”
Karyn laughed — really laughed this time. “God, the way that sounded in your little-kid voice... priceless.”
Jon scowled harder. “This isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not. But it is a little.” She ruffled his hair again. “Let’s go. My mom’s gonna be way more huggy with you now that you’re cute and small. Try not to cry.”
“I’m not crying,” Jon muttered. “But if she tries to pick me up, I’m out. I’ll sleep in the doghouse.”
“Well, just go with it, little bro,” Karyn said, giving him a teasing wink. “We’ll get to my room, shut the door, and figure this out. There are way too many people walking by right now to keep talking.”
Jon grumbled under his breath the whole walk.
“Don’t call me ‘little bro,’” he said. “I’m still Jon. I’m your friend, not your kid brother. I’m not playing along with this stupid fake life unless I have to.”
“Fine,” Karyn said. “But until we figure out a fix, you're staying in my house, calling my mom Mom, and probably getting your cheeks pinched.”
Jon’s groan was loud enough to scare a bird off a fencepost.
