“Swap,” Jon whispered, gripping Mikey’s hand.
Nothing happened.
Jon blinked, waiting for the strange, eye-stinging shimmer he’d felt before. But there was no flicker, no dizzy moment of shifting perspectives. Just silence.
Mikey stared down at himself—still tall, still broad-shouldered, still wearing Jon’s face. A slow, smug grin spread across his now older features. He flexed his hands, examining the length of his fingers, the way his voice rumbled in his throat.
“Oh man…” Mikey laughed, low and rich. “I’m huge. I’m you, Jon! And you’re—” he pointed, almost gleefully— “tiny. My god, you sound like a little kid.”
Jon’s heart sank. He hadn’t thought carefully enough. When he’d wished for the “Swap” command, he hadn’t specified that it could be used over and over. The stone must have locked the power to a single use—and now it was spent.
Which meant Mikey was stuck in his body. And Jon was trapped in Mikey’s.
Jon’s mind raced. The stone. It was still in his old pocket, which meant—
“Hey,” Jon said quickly, his new high-pitched voice cracking, “check your jeans. There’s something in there—something you shouldn’t touch.”
Mikey frowned, confused, but dug into the pocket anyway. He pulled out the small wooden box and popped it open. Inside, the metallic red-tinged stone gleamed faintly.
“This?” Mikey asked. “This is what Grandpa gave you? I always wondered why you got the special thing while I just got money.” He turned the stone over in his hand. “Doesn’t look like much.”
Jon lunged forward, panicked. “Mikey, don’t—”
But Mikey wasn’t listening. His lips moved, almost without thinking, as if curiosity alone were enough to stir the magic awake.
“I wish I knew what this was.”
The stone pulsed, and Mikey staggered. His eyes went wide as knowledge crashed into his mind. A wicked grin curled across his new, older face.
“Ohhh. This is good. A wishing rock.” He looked down at Jon, trapped in a ten-year-old body, and shook his head mockingly. “Sorry, Jonny boy—guess I should call you Mikey now. But I’m keeping this. I’m gonna be the perfect Jon—the Jon everyone actually likes. The Jon who has everything.”
“No!” Jon shouted. His pulse hammered. Without thinking, he sprang onto the bed and hurled himself at Mikey—at his own body.
The two of them crashed down together, Jon clawing for the stone clutched in Mikey’s hand. He didn’t know if he could win, if he’d ever get it back, but he knew one thing: if Mikey made another wish, it could all be over.
