Jon had always thought of himself as cautious. Careful. The kind of guy who made plans and stuck to them. But standing there barefoot in the dirt, hair tickling his back, dungarees clinging to his bony shoulders, he realized something strange.
He didn’t feel scared.
He felt—curious.
Sure, it was unnerving being in the body of some ten-year-old farm kid. Sure, it was even weirder knowing Karyn was the tall, stubble-faced man blinking at him like she’d just been thrown into a Shakespeare play with no script. But instead of panicking, Jon felt a bubbling mischief in his chest.
Why not? Why not play along? Why not see how far this went?
He could almost hear his grandfather chuckling in the back of his mind. Adventure, Jon. You’ve got to treat it like an adventure.
So he flashed the peace sign again, tongue sticking out, then turned toward the farmhouse with a grin.
“Okay, Pa,” he called over his shoulder, voice pitched high and boyish. “I better get back to Ma. She ain’t gonna be happy if I’m late for school. See ya after my schooling!”
And before Karyn could croak a single confused reply, Jon bolted.
His bare feet slapped against the packed dirt as he ran across the yard. He glanced back once, just in time to catch sight of Karyn’s face—or rather, Dan’s face, rough and sun-darkened but unmistakably hers in the way the eyes darted, the way the jaw clenched. Confusion poured off her in waves.
Jon almost tripped over his own laughter.
He rounded the side of the farmhouse and ducked around the corner. The siding smelled of old paint and weather, hot under the morning sun. His hand slipped into the front pocket of his dungarees, and there it was—the stone. Smooth, cool, metallic. Waiting.
Jon pulled it free, heart pounding. This was the moment. If he wanted to really sell the act, he needed the world itself to fill in the gaps. No use stumbling through with no idea who his mother was supposed to be, or what chores he was supposed to have done, or where he was meant to be heading for school.
So he held the stone tight against his palm, pressed it to his chest, and whispered:
“I wish we knew our new lives. I wish we knew who our friends are, what jobs we have to do in this life. I wish I knew who my ma is, and how I should act. And I wish Karyn—” he paused, smirking, “—I wish Karyn just picked things up like it comes natural to her.”
The world tilted.
It wasn’t as dramatic as the first transformation—no black void, no falling—but more like a sudden shiver through reality. A ripple that made the edges of the farmhouse blur, then snap back sharper than ever. His breath caught as images unspooled behind his eyes, fast and bright and clear.
A woman with flour on her apron and a wooden spoon in her hand. Stern eyes, quick hands. A voice sharp enough to scold but warm enough to soothe. She smelled of stew and soap and the faint, earthy tang of sweat from long hours in the kitchen. Ma.
A friend with freckled cheeks and grass stains on his knees, always daring him into trouble, always grinning even when they both got caught. Elliot.
Another boy, darker-haired, quiet but loyal, the kind who’d stand by him even when things got bad. Tie. That’s me. Tie.
The memories didn’t sink into him like they were his own. Not fully. More like he’d binge-watched the documentary of Tie’s life on fast-forward, every detail flashing through him until he could recite it without ever having lived it. He knew what Tie liked, what Tie hated, where Tie belonged.
And it fit.
Jon gasped, laughter bubbling up again, giddy with the absurdity of it all. He wasn’t just pretending anymore—he was Tie. Enough to fool anyone.
He dashed up the steps of the porch, nearly tripping over a loose board, and burst through the screen door.
“Ma!” he called, voice high and clear, carrying in the small farmhouse. “All done with my chores! I gotta start heading out to school!”
The kitchen smelled of stew—thick, meaty, simmering on the stove. A woman stood at the counter, hips broad, shoulders sturdy. Her hair was tied back in a kerchief, strands sticking out as if she hadn’t had time to tame them. She turned, wooden spoon in hand, and fixed him with a look that was half love, half threat.
“You better not be fibbing about them chores, Tie,” she said, voice clipped, no-nonsense. “Or you’ll get this spoon across your backside, hear?”
Jon grinned wide, throwing on Tie’s cheeky charm like it was a costume. “No fibbin’, Ma! Promise! Chickens fed, wood stacked, everythin’ done!”
Her stern face softened just enough. She reached out, pulled him into a quick hug that smelled of flour and sweat, then shooed him toward the door.
“Well then, off with you. Don’t keep Miss Smith waiting. And don’t you go gettin’ into trouble with that Elliot boy again, Tie, or so help me—”
“I won’t, Ma!” Jon sang, darting back toward the doorway, heart thumping with excitement. This was better than a play. He was acting and living at the same time.
He skipped down the steps, sunlight spilling across the yard, his laughter bright in the morning air.
Somewhere behind him, Karyn was still standing by the camera. Or rather, Dan was.
Jon turned his head just enough to catch sight of the man—his “Pa”—still staring at his own hands like they weren’t real, lips moving as though he was muttering questions he couldn’t voice aloud. Then the man shook his head, rubbed his brow, and began trudging toward the barn with a weary heaviness.
Jon smirked. Good luck, Karyn. Let’s see how you handle being Dan the farmer.
The pickup truck door slammed in the distance. Dan—Karyn—was off to “repair his fence four kilometers south.” Jon didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. Just like he knew the cows had a habit of getting loose if the fence wasn’t fixed, and just like he knew Dan hated leaving chores undone.
The wish had filled in all the blanks.
And it had worked perfectly.
Jon waved, lifting his small hand in the air, then called out in Tie’s voice, “See ya, Pa!”
The man turned, gave an awkward wave back. But his face—Karyn’s face hidden beneath sunburn and stubble—was pale, eyes haunted.
Jon could almost hear her thoughts. What’s happening? Is this forever? Did Jon do this to me?
He grinned, spinning on his heel and jogging down the dirt path toward the road.
School. Friends. A whole day to live this life.
And best of all?
Watching Karyn sweat as Dan the farmer.
It was going to be an interesting twenty-four hours.
