Karyn opened the door with Jon’s taller hand — my hand — and there I was, staring up at myself from the doorway. Or at least, what used to be myself.
Only now, I wasn’t me. I was Mikey.
“Holy crap,” Karyn breathed. Her face lit up in awe, but it was my voice, my tone, my smile. That alone was enough to make my stomach twist. “It worked.”
I crossed my arms — which, let me tell you, looked a whole lot less intimidating when those arms were scrawny little nine-year-old twigs — and scowled up at her. “This is not funny, Karyn.” My new voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, high-pitched and squeaky, and her grin only got wider.
“Oh, come on, little bro,” she said with a teasing lilt that made my blood boil. “It’s not that bad. At least you’re not a total loser anymore like we were. Well, I still am kind of. But you — you’re Mikey now. The golden boy. The prodigy. The school hero.” She smirked, leaning against the doorframe like she owned my whole existence. Which, right now, she basically did.
“I’m not a loser,” I snapped. The words came out sharper than I meant, but in that squeaky, too-young voice, it sounded pathetic. I wanted to stamp my foot just to make the point, but I caught myself. God, this body. This tiny body. No wonder Mikey always strutted around like a smug brat — the world must look like a playground when you’re small and fast and people actually like you.
Karyn folded her arms and gave me a slow, amused once-over. It was my face — my strong jaw, my height, my frame — but the expression was hers. Quirky. Mischievous. Too smart for her own good. Seeing it twisted into my features made me shiver.
I wanted to shout at her. I wanted to shake her. Hell, I wanted to kick my old body in the shin just to remind her what she was doing to me. But before I could, a voice piped up from behind her.
“Ohhh, this is so sick.”
I craned my neck and nearly fell backward in shock.
There was my best friend’s body — Karyn’s short, scruffy frame, her old slacks and that baggy green sweater — standing up straight, stretching, rolling her shoulders with a cocky swagger. Except it wasn’t her.
Her face grinned with a smirk I knew all too well. Mikey’s.
“Check this out,” Karyn’s voice said, but with Mikey’s slangy, cocky tone. He gave a little bounce on his toes like an athlete warming up, then reached straight down to cup Karyn’s — his — new chest with both hands. “Damn, bro, this is wild. I got, like, boobs! Actual boobs!” He squeezed experimentally, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.
My jaw dropped. “Mikey, stop! That’s not—”
But Mikey just ignored me, looking down at his — Karyn’s — body like a kid unwrapping the world’s most inappropriate Christmas present. “Yo, I look hot as hell! Like, no wonder dudes be staring at girls all the time. This is crazy. Bro, I could get used to this.”
I groaned, burying my little nine-year-old face in my hands. “Oh god. Oh no no no no…”
Karyn, in my body, chuckled. “Looks like the stone decided to even things out. You got pushed into Mikey, Jon. And Mikey… well, congratulations, little bro, you’re now rocking my old bestie’s body.”
Mikey flipped his — Karyn’s — messy red hair over one shoulder dramatically, grinning like an idiot. “Man, I always wanted long hair. This is dope.” Then he patted down the sweater. “But, uh, yo, this outfit? Trash. We gotta go shopping or something.”
“Shopping!?” I yelped. “Are you kidding me? Mikey, this isn’t some game, you’re—”
“Relax, Jonny-boy,” he said, smirking through Karyn’s lips. “Chill. I’m just vibin’. Look, you’re short and cute now, I’m, like, a whole girl, and Karyn’s… uh, taller and hotter than before. Everybody wins.”
I stomped my little foot — yes, I actually stomped this time, because being Mikey made everything so much more frustrating. “No, nobody wins! This is a disaster! I’m stuck as a freaking nine-year-old! You’re in Karyn’s body acting like a total creep! And Karyn—” I swung my head toward her, seething. “You did this! You shoved me out of my body like garbage!”
Karyn shrugged with my shoulders. “Yeah, but you’re not garbage, Jon. You’re… portable.” She smirked. “Think of it this way: you’re young, fast, energetic. You could probably run a mile without breaking a sweat now. That’s not nothing.”
“Not nothing!?” I barked, my high-pitched voice making the words sound more like a whine than an accusation.
Mikey — in Karyn’s body — plopped down on the couch, kicking his legs up. “Man, this is the best day of my life. I got curves, I got hair, I even got your best friend’s brain smarts now.” He tapped Karyn’s temple with a grin. “Jon, dude, you worry too much. Let’s just chill with the stone and, like, live a little.”
That’s when I saw it.
In his hand — Karyn’s hand — Mikey was still holding the stone.
My heart jumped into my throat.
“Oh no,” I whispered.
Karyn noticed too, her eyes narrowing slightly. But instead of snatching it back, she just smiled faintly, leaning against the wall. Almost like she wanted to see what would happen if Mikey played with it.
I swallowed hard, my small hands curling into fists. Mikey had the stone. Karyn had my body. And me? I was a kid. Small, weak, overlooked. The only thing I had left was speed.
Which meant maybe, just maybe, I could grab the stone and run before either of them realized what I was doing.
But my gut twisted as I watched Mikey smirk, twirling the stone in his palm.
Because if he spoke the wrong wish — one stupid, careless sentence — all of this could get a hell of a lot worse.
And the worst part?
Karyn seemed perfectly fine with that.
