The shrinking didn’t stop until Drew felt like the world had doubled in size. His chest heaved, breath shallow, while every nerve in his body buzzed with strange energy. He stumbled, his oversized boxers slipping so low on his hips that he had to grab them with both tiny hands.
Kate was beside him, clutching her own waistband. She let out a shocked laugh, her new voice high and boyish. “Oh my God—look at us!”
Drew turned his head and froze.
The person standing there wasn’t Kate anymore. Or at least, not the Kate he knew. The tall girl with long brown hair and glasses was gone. In her place stood a nine-year-old boy: slim and wiry, with tanned skin stretched over lean muscle, like someone who lived on the ice rink. His blond hair spilled in loose waves almost to his shoulders. His limbs looked strong but child-sized, the compact kind of strength you saw in young athletes who practiced every day.
And he realized with horror that he looked exactly the same.
His reflection in Kate’s eyes was his own.
Drew staggered toward the mirror by the lockers, his bare feet slapping against the cold tile. The room towered around him, benches looming like massive structures, hooks set into the wall now far above his head. His smaller body moved with quick, bouncy steps he couldn’t quite control, every shift of weight throwing him off balance.
When he reached the mirror, his breath caught in his throat.
Two boys stared back. Identical, down to the last detail. Their oversized underwear sagged on narrow hips, threatening to fall at any second. Their long blond hair framed faces that were the same in every way: rounded cheeks not yet sharpened by age, bright eyes, compact shoulders.
They were twins.
They were strangers.
They were Tyler Jensen.
Drew’s knees weakened. He gripped the edge of the sink with hands that felt far too small. “No way. No way this is real.” His voice cracked, squeaky and high, nothing like his own.
Kate leaned forward, pressing her palms against the glass, studying their new forms. She looked fascinated, her wide grin betraying no fear. “It’s him,” she whispered. “Drew, do you know who this is?”
Drew blinked. “What? Who?”
Kate turned toward him, her boyish face lit with recognition. “Tyler Jensen. He was the youth league star here. Everyone said he was going to go pro one day. But…” She faltered, her grin dimming. “He died. Two years ago. Hit by a car walking home from practice. I was still in high school when it happened.”
The name punched through Drew’s memory. He had seen the photo in the rink office, the memorial poster taped near the bulletin board. A smiling blond boy in full hockey pads, holding his stick aloft like a trophy. Coaches still talked about him sometimes, saying how no one since had shown that much promise.
And now—Drew and Kate were him.
Drew staggered back from the mirror, his too-big boxers finally sliding halfway down his thighs before he yanked them back up. “Oh my God,” he whispered. His voice cracked again. “We’re… we’re dead kids.”
Kate laughed, the sound higher than before but still so completely her. “Not dead. Just… borrowed. Think about it, Drew! We’ve got his body. His strength. His energy. Look at this!”
She flexed one skinny arm, a faint ridge of muscle showing beneath the smooth skin. Then she poked at her flat chest, chuckling. “I’m a boy. An actual boy.” She twisted from side to side, marveling at the way her smaller frame moved. “And so young. This is incredible.”
“Incredible?” Drew’s panic was climbing again. He stared at his reflection, tugging at his long hair, feeling how thin his arms had become. “Kate, I’m tiny. I’m like one-third my size. My voice sounds like a cartoon. I—God, I can’t even keep my underwear on.”
Kate smirked, her new blue eyes glinting. “Relax, bro. It’s only twelve hours. Don’t be such a drama queen.”
“I’m not a drama queen!” Drew snapped. The outburst came out as a squeak, making Kate burst out laughing.
He groaned, covering his face with both hands. Even that felt wrong—his fingers were too short to block out much.
When he peeked again, Kate was still studying herself in the mirror, turning her head left and right, tugging at her long blond hair, smiling as though she’d just won a prize. She caught his eye and grinned wider. “You have to admit—it’s kind of cool being twins.”
Drew scowled, though the expression looked ridiculous on his rounder face. “Cool? I can’t even tell which one of us is me!”
“Exactly,” Kate said, delighted. “We’re mirror images. Perfect copies.”
Her grin widened. “I wonder if people could even tell us apart.”
Drew’s stomach twisted again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
Kate spun suddenly and trotted toward the supply bin by the wall. Her bare feet slapped the floor with a rhythm that sounded far too childlike. She rummaged through the pile of youth jerseys and practice pants, tossing aside socks and pads until she found what she wanted.
“Aha!” She pulled out two sets of clothes and tossed one at Drew. “Here. Can’t walk around half naked.”
The jersey landed across his head, the fabric almost swallowing him. He pulled it down to find a blue hockey practice shirt, the rink’s team name printed bold across the chest. The pants were black, youth-sized warm-up trousers with a drawstring waist.
Kate was already wriggling into hers, hopping on one foot as the pants sagged, then tying them tight around her narrow hips. She tugged the jersey over her head and looked instantly more like a kid on his way to practice.
Drew hesitated, staring at the clothes in his hands. His reflection in the mirror stared back, identical to Kate but still bare-chested, drowning in underwear that no longer fit.
“You seriously expect me to—”
“Yes,” Kate said firmly. “Get dressed. You’ll feel less weird once you’re not about to lose your shorts.”
Grumbling, Drew slipped the pants on. They hung loose at first, but he tightened the drawstring until they stayed up. The jersey brushed his thighs, the sleeves swallowing his wrists, but at least he wasn’t half naked anymore.
He caught his reflection again and winced. Two identical boys stared back: barefoot, clad in hockey jerseys and black pants, their long blond hair falling untidily over their foreheads. Twins. Nine years old.
“God,” Drew muttered. “I look like a kid ready for practice. Like I should be asking my mom for a ride home.”
Kate laughed, her new boyish voice cracking. “Get used to it, bro. For the next twelve hours, that’s exactly who we are.”
She reached out, clapped him on the back, and grinned at their reflections. “Come on. Let’s hit the changing rooms. If we’re gonna be Tyler Jensen, we might as well see how the pads fit.”
Drew swallowed hard, his pulse still racing. He wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to seeing that strange boy’s face staring back at him in the mirror—especially when it was his own.
But Kate was already striding ahead, her bare feet quick and eager, and Drew found himself following.
Two identical nine-year-old boys.
Twins in every way.
Heading into the changing rooms to become hockey players
