Jon woke up with that fuzzy, half-dream feeling, where the world hadn’t quite resolved itself into reality. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, which meant he still had a good twenty minutes to enjoy the quiet. He rolled over, pulled the blanket tighter, and decided he could definitely go another round with unconsciousness.
Except—there was noise.
Not the usual creaks of the house, not his mom clattering dishes downstairs. This was… humming. No, not humming. Singing. Off-key. Badly.
“…If you’re happy and you know it, spin the chair! wheeeeee!”
Jon’s eyes shot open.
There, sitting at his desk, in his chair, on his laptop, was a boy. A blond boy, hair cropped short but sticking up like he’d been rubbing a balloon on it, wearing a tank top and shorts that seemed a size too small. His grin was so wide Jon thought his face might crack in half.
And worse—he was spinning. Fast. One foot on the desk, one hand on the back of the chair, going round and round like he was auditioning to be a ceiling fan.
“What. The. Hell.” Jon sat bolt upright.
The boy froze mid-spin, turned his head (and only his head, exorcist-style), and beamed. “Finally! You’re awake! I was getting so bored. Do you know how boring it is to sit around waiting for someone to wish on you? It’s, like, the worst. But now you’re awake and you can use me! Make a wish! Go on!”
Jon blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Tried again. Nope. Still there.
“Use you?” Jon croaked.
The boy nodded enthusiastically, springing off the chair like a jack-in-the-box and skidding across the carpet to Jon’s bed. “Yep! Make a wish, Master! Touch my head, say the words, boom—magic!” He tapped his temple with a flourish. “I was your wish rock, then poof, something happened, and now I’m a wishing boy, I guess. Ta-da!”
Jon backed up against the wall, clutching his blanket like a shield. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’re—the stone? The one my granddad gave me?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” The boy bounced onto the bed and plopped himself down cross-legged, completely uninvited. “Your grandpa was a great man. A little grumpy, maybe, but clever. He figured me out. Used me wisely. I guess his last wish was what turned me into this.” He gestured at himself like a showman presenting a prize on a game show. “Lucky you!”
Jon’s mouth worked silently for a moment before he managed to squeak out, “Grandpa wished you into being a… hyperactive weirdo in short-shorts?”
The boy shrugged. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Maybe he thought it’d be funny. Or maybe he just wanted me to have legs for once. Do you know how stuffy it gets being a rock in a box? Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Jon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “This has to be a dream. Too much pizza before bed. That’s it.”
“Dream? Please.” The boy rolled his eyes dramatically. “Dreams don’t sing ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It’ until you wake up. No, no, no, Master. I’m real. Real as your socks smell right now.” He sniffed the air, made a face, and flopped backward onto Jon’s blanket.
Jon shoved him off instinctively. “Hey! Don’t—don’t call me Master!”
“But you are my Master,” the boy said matter-of-factly, sitting up again and brushing imaginary dust off his shorts. “That’s how it works. Whoever owns me, commands me. You say ‘Rock,’ I come running. Well, I guess now you’d say ‘Boy,’ but honestly, either works. Point is: you wish, I deliver.” He spread his arms wide. “I live to serve!”
Jon narrowed his eyes. “You don’t… expect me to rub a lamp, do you?”
The boy giggled. Actually giggled. “No lamps. Just head pats.” He leaned forward eagerly, tapping the top of his blond hair. “Go on, try it! Touch my head and make a wish! Anything you want! Except, y’know, don’t contradict previous wishes, blah blah blah, you already know the rules.”
Jon stared at him. The boy grinned back, unblinking. Seconds stretched.
Finally, Jon muttered, “This is insane.”
“Insane? No! This is fun!” The boy leapt to his feet and spun in a circle, nearly knocking over Jon’s lamp. “I mean, come on—don’t you wanna test me out? Don’t you wanna feel the magic? Ohhh, it feels so good. Like, for me. You’ll love it too. Just one little wish! C’mon!”
Jon buried his face in his pillow and groaned. “Why me? Why couldn’t Grandpa have left me, I don’t know, a normal inheritance? A watch, a book, even a cursed pirate map would be better than this.”
The boy gasped. “Better than me? Rude! I’m adorable! I’m magical! I’m the best inheritance ever! Look at this smile!” He leaned down and grinned inches from Jon’s face.
Jon shoved him back. “Okay, okay! Just—fine. One wish. To prove this isn’t just some psychotic breakdown I’m having.” He sat up, hesitated, then reached out and tapped the boy’s head. The hair was surprisingly soft.
The boy practically vibrated with excitement. “Yes yes yes! Do it do it do it!”
Jon closed his eyes. “I wish… my alarm clock would shut up and not go off for the rest of the weekend.”
There was the familiar sting in his eyes, like grit in the wind. Then silence.
The boy sighed with bliss, collapsing into a heap on the floor like he’d just had the best massage of his life. “Oooohhhh, yes. That’s the stuff. Mmmm. Make another one!”
Jon blinked. His alarm clock sat mute, the red numbers glowing innocently. No beep, no buzz. Nothing.
He looked back at the boy, who was now sprawled out, limbs akimbo, eyes half-lidded like a cat in the sun. “You’re… enjoying this way too much.”
“Of course I am!” the boy said dreamily, kicking his legs in the air. “It’s what I was made for. You wish, I grant, I feel all warm and tingly inside. It’s like—like having the world’s best hot chocolate poured directly into my soul.” He sat up suddenly, grinning again. “So go on! Wish for something bigger! Better! Wackier!”
Jon rubbed his temples. “You’re exhausting.”
“And you’re boring!” the boy shot back cheerfully. “But that’s okay, opposites attract. We’ll make a great team!”
Jon glared. “I don’t want to be a team. I want to survive high school without accidentally turning the cafeteria into a swamp.”
“Ooooh, a swamp cafeteria, that’s a great idea!”
“No!” Jon pointed at him. “See, this is why I can’t trust you.”
The boy crossed his arms, pouting. “Fine. Be boring. But you can’t ignore me forever.”
“Watch me.” Jon flopped back onto the bed, yanking the blanket over his head.
There was a pause. Then the boy’s muffled voice: “Master…?”
“What.”
“Can I at least spin in your chair some more?”
Jon groaned. “Whatever. Just don’t break my laptop.”
“Woohoo!” The chair squeaked as the boy launched himself back into spinning. “Best Master ever!”
Jon peeked out from under the blanket, sighed, and muttered, “This is too early for this crap.”
He reached out, tapped the boy’s head again, and whispered, “I wish you’d sleep for the next four hours.”
There was that sting again. The boy yawned hugely, flopped onto the carpet in a boneless heap, and immediately began snoring.
Jon sat there for a long moment, staring at the ridiculous figure on his floor. Then he shook his head, lay back down, and closed his eyes.
Weekend or not, he was going to need all the rest he could get.
