Jon’s laughter finally broke into words. He wiped tears from his cheeks, gulping in air, and grinned up at the hulking man holding the camera.
“Dude, it’s me,” he said between giggles. “Jon. And you, Karyn… you’re my loving papa. Ha—hahaha!”
The sound was wrong. It wasn’t his own cracked teenage voice but a boy’s light, sing-song lilt. The kind of voice made for whistling jigs in fields, shouting across barns, or singing nonsense with friends. It was bright, musical, and innocent—so at odds with the words tumbling out of it that Jon nearly doubled over again at the absurdity.
Karyn froze. For a moment she looked like she hadn’t even understood. Then the weight of the words hit her. Her jaw clenched, her face—his face—reddened with fury.
“Oh no,” she growled. “Oh, hell no. Jon, don’t you dare—”
Jon stuck out his tongue, still grinning. “Papa!”
That did it. With surprising speed, the broad-shouldered farmer dropped the camera into the grass and lunged. One of those huge, work-roughened hands clamped onto Jon’s overalls at the chest, grabbing the denim scruff just below his collarbone.
“Hey—!”
Jon yelped as his feet left the ground. He dangled there, light as a sack of feathers. The straps of the overalls dug into his shoulders, pinching his skin, but it didn’t hurt—not really. What hurt was the sudden seriousness on Karyn’s face, the way her eyes blazed.
“Really, Jon?” Karyn’s voice thundered from that deep chest. The timbre was gravelly, manly, but the cadence was unmistakably hers. “Why the hell am I a man? An old man at that! What the hell did you do!?”
Jon tried to keep grinning, though his lips trembled a little. “It was… it was random! A random swap, that’s all! Trust me, I didn’t plan this. I don’t want to be some little farmer kid.”
He couldn’t help it—the grin spread wider, tugged there by a strange bubbling inside his chest. “But—haha—it feels… nice, though. This body. I feel like I could run ten miles, then run ten miles back, and still have energy left!”
Karyn shook him, denim straps tightening under her grip. “Nice!? You think this is nice!? I’m stuck in this—this guy body, Jon!” Her free hand jabbed furiously at her chest. “No boobs! Nothing! Just… this.” She grimaced and glanced down at the bulge of her jeans, her voice dropping into a horrified growl. “And don’t even get me started on the thing hanging there. This is not funny!”
Jon gulped, a flicker of fear tightening his stomach. She could crush him like a twig if she wanted. But then again—this was Karyn. His best friend. She never hurt him, not really. Yelled plenty, sure. But never crossed that line.
“C’mon,” he said, forcing a laugh, though his voice wobbled. “It’s only for twenty-four hours. That’s what the wish said. Just a day. Then we’ll go back.”
“You’re damn right we’ll go back,” she snapped. “Because I am not staying in this… this nightmare.”
Jon wriggled, trying to straighten his straps. He pulled one free where it had slipped loose. “Well… I dunno.” His voice softened, almost thoughtful. “It is kinda nice. Being this kid. If his life is good, if his mom’s kind… maybe I’ll stick around a little longer.”
Karyn’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Jon—are you out of your mind!?”
But Jon wasn’t listening anymore. Something had shifted in him. The farmhouse loomed behind, sunlight bouncing off its whitewashed boards. Smoke curled from a chimney. The smell of bread, faint and warm, drifted on the air. A mother lived there. His new mother.
And suddenly, Jon wanted to see her.
Before Karyn could shake him again, he twisted, slipped out of her grip, and dropped to the ground. His bare feet slapped against the grass as he darted toward the porch.
“Jon!” Karyn’s voice bellowed, thunder rolling across the field. “Get back here! Don’t you dare run away from me!”
But Jon was already sprinting, laughter ringing behind him. The straps of his overalls bounced against his chest. Blond hair whipped down his back. Every muscle in his little body thrummed with vitality. He felt like a bird let loose, weightless, unstoppable.
He shouted over his shoulder, still grinning wide. “You can go back on your own, Papa! I’m gonna check out my new ma—see what she’s like!”
The farmhouse door beckoned, sunlight glinting off its handle. The smell of baking grew stronger, mingling with hay and fresh milk. Somewhere, a screen door creaked.
Jon ran harder, lungs burning but joyous, the sound of his own laughter carrying him forward.
Behind him, Karyn cursed, her deep voice raw with fury and disbelief.
And the farm, quiet and wide, waited to see what would happen next.
