The mirror above the hall cabinet caught Zack’s eye. He padded over, still clutching the empty wallet, and froze.
The boy who looked back at him wasn’t Zoe anymore. He tilted his head, studying the messy brown hair, the scuffed shirt collar, the faint smear of dirt on one cheek. His eyes, though—sharp and mischievous—still felt like his own.
He grinned. “Huh. Not bad.”
He bared his teeth, made a few ridiculous faces, then tried out the name.
“I’m Zack,” he said in a practiced tone, standing straighter. “Nice to meet you.”
Then he pitched his voice higher, rougher, trying to mimic how a nine-year-old might sound on the playground.
“Hey, dude! Zack, wanna play some soccer?”
The boy in the mirror nailed it. Same grin, same scrappy energy. It made him laugh. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
The longer he looked, the more he liked it. He wasn’t some gloomy Goth anymore. He wasn’t trailing in Jon’s shadow, either. He was… free. A kid again. No expectations.
And Jon? No—Janine now—was stretched out on the couch, still fainted, her breathing slow and even. Zack’s grin widened. “Guess that makes you my mom. My mommy. My mother.” He tested each word aloud, liking the sound of them.
At first, he’d thought he should try to fix things. Maybe even use the stone again once she woke. But now… did he really want to? He’d gone to the bathroom earlier, curiosity getting the better of him, and discovered firsthand the benefits of boyhood. Standing up to pee felt like a victory. Way better than the awkwardness of a girl’s body.
He chuckled to himself. “Yeah. I think I’m keeping this.”
Half an hour passed. Janine still hadn’t stirred. Zack, growing sleepy himself, shuffled back to the couch. He poked her shoulder. “Hey, Mom. You awake yet?”
She murmured something incomprehensible, turned slightly, and before he knew it, one of her arms had come around him. Zack blinked in surprise, then smiled. He hadn’t even had to ask—she just pulled him close, tucking him into the warmth of her chest like it was second nature.
It felt… safe. Strange, but safe.
He yawned, his small body pressing closer against her. “Guess this isn’t so bad,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “You’ll freak out when you wake up, Mom. But you’ll get used to it. We both will.”
Sleep took him quickly, leaving the house silent except for the steady sound of Janine’s breathing.
And so the new “son” drifted off in his new mother’s arms, already dreaming of the fun his second childhood might bring.
