Jon’s patience snapped.
The younger him had spent the last five minutes pacing, whining, and accusing him of being some kind of creep-kidnapper. Every insult hit a little too close to the bone. Loser. Freak. Creepy teenager. And now, sitting cross-legged on his carpet, the brat wouldn’t shut up.
Jon gritted his teeth. The stone was right there in his pocket. Why was he letting himself suffer through this? He didn’t need to argue with himself—literally. He could just… end it.
And then it clicked. The answer was simple. Obvious.
Why not just wish there’s only one Jon? One version of me in this world. And that version is the older me. Boom. Problem solved.
The thought tasted like relief. His hand closed around the stone. The heat pulsed through his palm, familiar now.
“I wish,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “that there is only one Jon in the world—and that Jon is me.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the sensation struck. That eye-blurring, gut-twisting moment when reality rearranged itself. He shut his eyes instinctively, knowing better than to watch the change happen.
And then it was over.
He blinked.
Except… he wasn’t standing by his desk anymore. He was sitting on the carpet. His perspective felt wrong, lower. The bed loomed taller, the chair legs stretched like tree trunks.
And his hair—messy brown strands tickled his eyes. His hands went up automatically, brushing them aside. His small hands. Soft, narrow, unscarred by years of fidgeting with pens or clenching through stress.
Jon’s heart stopped.
“No way.”
He scrambled to his feet, wobbling slightly. His balance was off. His center of gravity was lower, his body lighter. He hurried to the mirror on the wall.
And stared.
A boy looked back. Eleven years old. Messy hair. Gap-toothed grin. Those wide, unjaded eyes he remembered all too well.
Jon’s breath caught. He pressed his fingers to the glass, touching the reflection.
“Oh, shit.”
The wish had worked—just not the way he’d meant. There was only one Jon now, sure. But reality had chosen this Jon. His old body was gone. Erased. In its place was the younger version, fresh from that birthday party snapshot.
He stepped closer to the mirror, tilting his head, studying his own childish features. His mom always used to say he had a smile that could melt hearts when he was that age. He bared his teeth experimentally.
Damn. She hadn’t been lying.
Despite the panic boiling under his skin, he couldn’t deny it—he did look good. Healthier. Brighter. Untouched by rejection or failure. His chest felt light, his skin buzzing with youthful energy. For a dangerous moment, Jon smiled.
This body hasn’t been through high school. It hasn’t seen the bullying, the heartbreak, the endless grind of being ignored.
The thought was almost comforting.
But then reality crashed back in. He needed to change back. Fast. He wasn’t about to live out middle school again. He turned toward the desk where the stone rested in its wooden box.
Except he didn’t get the chance.
The door slammed open.
“Jon, do you have—”
His mom’s voice cut out. Her face twisted in shock.
She didn’t see a nearly grown teenager. She saw her eleven-year-old son standing in the middle of the room in party clothes, messy hair falling into his eyes.
She screamed.
The sound tore through the house.
Footsteps thundered on the stairs. His dad, his sister, his little brother—all of them burst into the doorway, drawn by the shriek. Within seconds the room was full.
Jon froze, wide-eyed, as his entire family stared at him like he was a ghost.
His dad’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell—”
His sister clutched the doorframe, jaw slack.
And his little brother Mikey, standing near the front, broke into the widest grin Jon had ever seen.
“Cool!” Mikey whooped. “I got a brother my age now!”
Jon’s mom grabbed his shoulders, dragging him away from the desk and stone before he could even react. “What happened to you!?” she demanded, her voice tight with panic. “How are you—how are you like this?”
Jon tried to squirm, but her grip was iron. His heart pounded. He couldn’t exactly say, Oh, I wished myself into my own childhood body with a magic Inca rock, don’t worry about it.
His dad loomed closer, arms folded. “Jon. Answer your mother.”
Everyone’s eyes were drilling into him. He needed something. An excuse. Anything.
“I… I just woke up like this,” he stammered.
The words slipped out before he could think. His voice cracked on the last syllable. High. Childish. A kid’s voice.
His mom gasped. His sister muttered, “That’s insane.” His dad’s frown deepened.
Mikey just giggled. “You sound like a cartoon. This is awesome.”
Jon tried to force a laugh, but it came out as a nervous, squeaky giggle that only made everything worse.
His mom shook her head, half hysterical. “This isn’t possible. People don’t just—don’t just turn younger overnight.”
His dad shot her a sharp look. “Unless it’s a prank. Some kind of trick.”
“Dad!” Jon squeaked. “It’s not a prank! I—I can explain!” Except he couldn’t. Not without handing over the stone, and if his mom found out about that, she’d lock it away forever—or worse, use it herself.
He bit his lip. His brain scrambled for lies. A science experiment gone wrong? Some kind of virus? Genetic freak accident? None of it sounded believable.
“I just woke up like this,” he repeated weakly. “I don’t know how.”
His mom’s hands tightened on his shoulders, eyes brimming with fear. “Don’t you lie to me, Jonathan. Don’t you dare.”
But the fear in her voice told him something else. She didn’t believe him. Not really. Not yet.
His dad’s glare sharpened. “We’ll get a doctor. Right now.”
Jon’s blood ran cold. A doctor? Blood tests, examinations—there was no way he could bluff his way through that. No way to hide the truth once people started running scans.
Mikey, still grinning ear to ear, tugged on his mom’s sleeve. “Can we keep him like this? Please? He’s fun now!”
“Mikey!” his sister snapped.
Jon’s pulse hammered. He needed to find a way out before this spiraled further. His mom was pulling him toward the hall, already shouting for car keys, demanding coats.
The stone was still on the desk. Just a few feet away. But reaching for it now would give him away completely.
