Jon woke up to sunlight in his eyes, a groggy fuzz in his brain, and the distinct, uncomfortable realization that something was off. For a moment he thought maybe it had all been a dream — the stone, the wish, Karyn’s blonde hair, Mikey sneaking into his bed, the fever, all of it. But when he sat up, the world around him was… bigger. The sheets felt heavier. His t-shirt slipped off one shoulder like it was five sizes too large.
No. Not five sizes too large.
He looked down at his arms — skinny, smooth, with soft little-boy hands poking out from sleeves that dragged past his fingertips.
Jon’s heart slammed in his chest. He scrambled across the mattress, nearly tripping over his own too-long shirt, and reached the mirror on his dresser.
Two wide brown eyes stared back at him — not Jon’s. Not really. They were Mikey’s eyes. His face. His freckles. His messy mop of hair. Everything.
Jon staggered back. “No… no, no, no…”
He didn’t even get to finish the thought before the bedroom door swung open.
“Up and at ’em, boys!” Mom chirped, balancing a laundry basket on her hip. She set it down and clapped her hands. “Come on, Mikey. And… Jonny.”
Jon turned, frozen. “What did you just call me?”
“Jonny.” She said it like she was testing the sound of it. “Well, it’ll be easier that way, don’t you think? Can’t have two Mikeys running around the house.”
“I’m not—!” Jon’s voice cracked high and sharp, his words tumbling over themselves. He clutched at his throat in horror. His voice wasn’t his voice. It was thin, piping. A seven-year-old’s.
Mikey poked his head in from the hallway, already dressed in a bright red t-shirt with dinosaurs on it. He grinned like Christmas had come early. “See? Told you it worked! Now we’re twins, Jonny!”
Jon felt his stomach twist. “I’m not Jonny! I’m Jon! I’m sixteen! I’m supposed to be in high school! This is—this is insane! Why is no one—”
“Drama, drama, drama,” Mom interrupted, her tone sharp as she plucked the oversized shirt off his shoulders. “Jonny, stop making a fuss. You know this happens to people every day. You just had the bad luck to catch it. And your little brother shouldn’t have snuck into your bed, but what’s done is done.”
Jon blinked. “Every day? Are you hearing yourself? I’m—I’m a kid! I’m Mikey’s twin! That’s not—”
“Don’t act like the world just ended,” Mom scolded, holding up two matching sets of clothes from the laundry basket: bright blue underoos, shorts, and striped t-shirts. “Honestly, it’s no different than Mikey hiding the salt shaker or putting a whoopee cushion under the couch cushion. He pulled a prank, it backfired. Life goes on.”
“Life goes—?” Jon’s voice squeaked as he tried to shout. His arms flailed helplessly. “Mom, I was in high school! I had exams! I had friends! I had a future! You can’t just—just treat this like it’s nothing!”
But she was already tugging his pajamas off and pulling the tiny dinosaur-print underwear up his legs. Jon gasped, wriggling, but her hands were practiced, firm.
“Moooom!” His face burned. “I can dress myself!”
“Not when you’re making a tantrum out of nothing,” she said briskly, shoving his arms through the sleeves of the striped shirt. “Now stand still. Mikey, grab his other shoe.”
Mikey was giggling, holding up a pair of light-up sneakers that Jon remembered buying for his brother at a mall sale two months ago. Now they fit his feet perfectly.
Jon stared down at himself, chest heaving, as his mom stepped back.
There they were: two Mikeys. Same shirts, same shorts, same sneakers. His brother bouncing happily on the carpet. And him — Jon, who used to be tall, awkward, sixteen — now swallowed by the mirror image of a hyperactive seven-year-old.
His voice cracked again as he whispered, “This can’t be real.”
“It is real,” Mom said firmly, scooping up the laundry basket again. “And the sooner you stop carrying on, the easier it’ll be for everyone. Now, both of you grab your backpacks. It’s time for school.”
Jon’s stomach lurched. “School?”
“Yes. Second grade. You’ll be transferring back with Mikey. Paperwork’s already done.”
Jon nearly fell over. “Second grade!? Are you out of your mind!? You can’t just shove me into elementary school again—I don’t belong there!”
“Don’t raise your voice at me, young man,” Mom snapped, spinning on her heel. “I’ve had enough of this. Everyone goes through changes in life. Yours just happened sooner than expected. Now stop acting like a brat and get in the car.”
Jon’s mouth hung open. Words tumbled in his brain — furious, desperate words — but none of them came out. His mom’s glare was enough to shut him down.
Beside him, Mikey was bouncing on the balls of his feet, backpack already slung on. “It’s gonna be awesome, Jonny! We can finally sit together at lunch! And no one’s gonna call you a nerd anymore ’cause you’ll be just like me! Everyone’s gonna think we’re cool!”
Jon wanted to scream. He wanted to tear the stupid striped shirt off and smash the stone against the wall until it turned to dust. He wanted his voice back, his height, his life.
Instead, he felt a tight grip on his wrist as Mom hauled him toward the front door.
“Let’s go, boys. Don’t make me late for work.”
Jon stumbled after her, his sneakers lighting up with every step. He looked down at his skinny little arms, his too-small legs, his childish reflection in the hallway mirror.
This wasn’t a prank. It wasn’t a bad dream.
It was his new body. His new life, and he shiverd not even nowing would the rock help him, could it make him back to him self or can he not undo this with this is a wish right but he will not know an till after his day as Mikeys twin great siting in the back of the car with not even realising mom had put him onto a booster chair and buckled him in with Mikey talking non stop about all the things there going to do and become with all jon can think is will the rock work or not?
