Sunlight crept through the blinds, cutting across Jon’s face. He groaned and tried to bury himself deeper under the covers, but the sharp sound of his bedroom door swinging open snapped him halfway awake.
“Boys, time to—” Mom’s voice cut off mid-sentence.
She froze in the doorway, staring at the bed.
Two identical seven-year-old boys were tangled together under the blankets, their messy brown hair sticking out in all directions. Both small. Both freckled. Both Mikey.
Her eyes darted from one to the other, mouth opening, then closing, then opening again.
“Mikey… what… did… you… do?” she demanded.
The Mikey in black underwear just grinned, sitting up and bouncing on the bed. “It worked! I’ve got a twin now!”
The other Mikey — wearing an oversized t-shirt and boxers that kept slipping down his much-too-small waist — blinked groggily and rubbed at his eyes. “What are you talking about?” His voice sounded higher. Lighter. Wrong.
He pushed his messy hair out of his face and froze. His hands were tiny. His arms… thin. He looked down at himself in disbelief.
“Mikey, you turned your brother into a copy of you!” Mom snapped, storming over to the bed.
Jon — though right now there was no way to tell him from Mikey except for the drowning-in-clothes look — stared at his hands again, confusion twisting into dawning horror.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, but his voice cracked like a kid’s.
He twisted toward the dresser mirror. And there it was — two Mikeys, one in the way-too-big t-shirt, one still bouncing in his underwear. His heart lurched.
“Oh my god…” Jon whispered. His stomach flipped.
The room spun and before anyone could stop him, he collapsed sideways, sliding right off the bed.
Mom’s yelling cut off instantly as Jon hit the carpet with a soft thump. Mikey’s smile faltered, but only for a second before he leaned over the edge of the bed, wide-eyed.
“Whoa… guess I should’ve told him sooner,” Mikey muttered.
Mom just shot him a look that could melt steel.
