"I wish Karyn was here with me."
With an all-to-concerning warmth in his pocket and sensation that forced him to close his eyes his wish came true.
With a sickening snap-flash that smelled like ozone, reality tore open.
Karyn appeared in mid-air, hovering impossibly between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat, limbs flailing, hitting Jon’s shoulder and clobbering Maya’s face as she plummeted toward the center console.
"HOLY SHIT!" Jeff screamed.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Karyn shrieked.
Jon’s delicate hands spasmed on the wheel. The Evo lurched violently to the left, crossing the double yellow line. A truck horn blared.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced Jon's chest. He didn't think. He just reacted, his hand slapping against the denim covering his thigh where the stone burned hot.
"I wish," he hissed, the words spilling out in a desperate, terrified rush, "she was in a seat, with her seatbelt on and nobody would remember that wish."
A beat. A pulse of white light.
Flash.
Jon blinked hard.
He was gripping the steering wheel of the Evo, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was swerving hard to the right, the tires squealing as the car danced dangerously close to a telephone pole before snapping back into the center of the lane with a professional, aggressive correction.
"Whoa! Watch it!" Maya yelled from the passenger seat, clutching the door handle.
Jon let out a breath he didn't remember holding. Why was he swerving? He shook his head, tossing his dark curls. A squirrel. Yeah, it must have been a squirrel. Or maybe he was just testing the handling? That sounded right. "Esme" was a good driver; she liked to push the limits.
For a moment, he thought about the stone but shook it off. He left it at home.
"Sorry," Jon purred, his voice smooth and entirely un-bothered despite the adrenaline dumping into his blood. "Just dodging some roadkill. You guys okay back there?"
He glanced in the rearview mirror.
"Seriously, Esme? You nearly killed us!"
Jon’s eyes widened.
Karyn was in the back seat.
She was wedged tightly into the middle seat, sandwiched between a stunned Jeff and a wide-eyed Ben. And because there wasn't really room for three people in the back of the sportscar, Mikey was sitting precariously on her lap, his face bright red.
Jon’s mind reeled. Karyn?
He blinked. When did we pick up Karyn?
He racked his brain, but the memory was slippery, nonexistent. Had she been there the whole time? No, that didn't feel right. But she was here now, buckled in—awkwardly, with the belt stretching over both her and Mikey—and looking pissed off.
"You drive like a maniac," Karyn snapped. She was wearing her baggy green sweater—the one she always wore—but her hair was the long, blonde style she'd wished for yesterday.
Jon wanted to scream. He wanted to slam on the brakes and yell, How did you get here?
But the scream died in his throat. His lips, independent of his panic, curved into a lazy, dismissive smirk. It wouldn't be cool to freak out. Esme didn't freak out. Esme rolled with the punches.
"Relax," Jon’s alto voice crooned, banking the car smoothly around a corner. "I handled it, didn't I?"
He looked back in the mirror, expecting Karyn to retort. But she didn't. But as he watched the mirror, something terrified him.
...I wish I had a cool and ‘different’ older sister that was not like Zoë…
The thought wasn't his. It was Mikey's, echoing in the cabin like a command.
Jon watched, helpless, as reality began to twist around Karyn. She was Esme’s friend now. And if Esme was the "cool, sexy sister," her best friend couldn't be a high schooler in a baggy sweater.
...and be fun…
Karyn blinked. Her expression of annoyance faltered, her features going slack. The baggy green wool of her sweater began to blur. It shrank, the fabric tightening, the weave refining.
...but she would always be so sexy and flirty and a bit of tease, sometimes accidentally…
Jon saw Karyn’s posture change. She wasn't stiffly holding Mikey anymore. She relaxed, sinking deeper into the upholstery. Her arms, which had been holding Mikey to keep him steady, wrapped around his waist in a hug that was far too intimate for a car ride.
Her face... matured. The lingering softness of seventeen melted away, replaced by the sharp, defined cheekbones of a twenty-one-year-old. Her eyes, behind a new hint of smoky eyeliner, which manifested instantly.
...Imagine if my friends always came over to my house instead of Jeff's because I had a sister that would always do something cool or sexy or something they'd never want to leave…
The green blur solidified.
The sweater was gone. In the flicker between realities, Jon caught a flash of black lace—a heavy-duty push-up bra that was clearly responsible for the gravity-defying lift of the "big boobs" she had wished for yesterday. Then, a vintage, cropped football jersey materialized over it. It was tight—distressingly tight across her chest—ending just below her ribs to show off a flat, tanned stomach. The jersey settled, the fabric pushed out significantly by her bust, riding up slightly at the hem, though the crew neck remained surprisingly modest.
"It is getting kinda hot in here, though," Karyn murmured.
Jon shivered. Her voice. It wasn't Karyn’s voice anymore. It was smoother. Lighter. It was the voice of a girl who spent her weekends at social events and knew exactly how to charm a room. A girl that could get black out drunk and walk it off the next day. Mikey’s wish had constructed Esme and now it provided her with a friend to match.
Karyn shifted, pulling Mikey closer into her lap as if he were a favorite plush toy. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her blonde hair cascading over him.
"Don't be mean to Esme, Mikey-bear," Karyn cooed, the sound vibrating with a playful, engaging sweetness that made Jeff and Ben look like they were about to pass out. "She's just having fun. We like fun, don't we?"
She looked up and caught Jon’s eye in the rearview mirror.
Jon waited for the recognition. For the confusion.
Instead, Karyn winked. It wasn't a friendly wink. It was a confident, knowing shimmer of a smile.
"Besides," she giggled, looking at Jeff and Ben, who were pressed against her sides. "Now we’re all really close. I love a full car."
Jon gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He tried to feel horrified. He tried to worry about his best friend being warped into... this.
But his body betrayed him. A flush of "cool" confidence washed over him. His head bobbed to the music. His lips pursed.
"That’s the spirit, K," Jon purred, hearing the nickname slip out naturally, as if he’d called her that for years. "Let’s show Mikey and his friends a good time."
