“A lot of people are too scared to admit that they're still children. They do everything they can to avoid it. So people who can admit that have a lot of courage.”
“Stories you read when you're the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you'll forget precisely what happened, but if a story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever visit.”
Gaiman, Neil. (2008). M is for Magic HarperCollins.
__________
“Wh- Wh- What?” Jacob stuttered. “What did you just call me?”
His voice no longer lisped, but the words he'd pronounced still sounded decidedly girlish.
“I called you 'Jenny,' Jenny!” laughed Kaitlyn. “What do you want me to call you?”
“How about Jacob?” he answered.
“Very funny,” smirked Kaitlyn. “You don't look like a 'Jacob' to me. You seem more like … oh, I dunno … a Richard, Charles, or William to me. Nahhh, 'Jacob' would never suit you at all. Oh, I've got it: your boy name can be 'Vincent,' and I can just call you 'Vince' for short. That'd be cool!”
“I'm serious, Kaitlyn!” hissed Jacob. “I'm not a girl. I'm Jacob, from next door. Your sister Emily and I used to be good friends. I see you every day, passing by on my way to school. Please, tell me you remember me?”
“No, that's not going to work,” laughed Kaitlyn. “The Smiths next door have a daughter, Ashley. She's a total bimbo, idiot cheerleader. But that's it – no son. So if you're going to be 'Vince,' we'll have to think up a different backstory for you.”
“I don't believe this,” sighed Jacob.
He'd been magically transformed into a girl Kaitlyn's age (and seemingly his prior existence had been erased from history), and Kaitlyn thought the only thing was some weird game of make-believe.
“You honestly believe I'm your BFF Jenny?” asked Jacob.
“Well … yeah,” admitted Kaitlyn. “When you're not being 'Vince.' Oh, can I be a dude too? I want to be a big, manly jock called 'Brock.' Wouldn't that be hillarious?”
Jacob starred dumbfounded at Emily's kid sister had she laughed hysterically at her own joke.
“Okay – hey, settle down, Kaitlyn. Let's try this,” Jacob said. “Why don't you tell me about Jenny. Who is she?”
“She is you!” laughed Kaitlyn, sticking her tongue out and making a goofy face. “You're bonkers!”
“No, no, no. Wait,” replied Jacob. “Let's do it like this. Um … pretend I'm Vince, right? So you tell Vince all about this Jenny person. Tell me, Vince, who Jenny is? What's she like? How do you know her? All that stuff…”
“Sheesh, you are a screwball today!” giggled Kaitlyn. “But, yeah! Let's do this. So … um … Jenny's my BFF. She's thirteen, but very mature and cool for her age, Vince. You'd absolutely love her. She a nutty, insane, weird girl: just like me! And Jenny is totally into anime, manga, urban fantasy, steampunk, and cool stuff like that. In fact, I'm massively jealous of her t-shirt with a picture of Tohru, Kyo, and Yuki from Fruits Basket on it!”
Jacob swallowed nervously and glanced down at his own shirt. There, beneath the straps of his salmon-colored overalls, was a yellow stripped t-shirt with some Japanese looking cartoon characters on it.
“Fruits Basket is my favorite manga,” he said leadenly.
“No, you're 'Vince,' remember?” Kaitlyn said with a smirk. “My BFF Jenny loves Fruits Basket. As for me, I prefer things edgier and more dark – I'm an Attack on Titan or Tokyo Ghoul kinda person myself.”
What have I gotten myself into, thought Jacob. Somehow, he'd used the Toroid of Transformation to morph himself into a carbon copy of Emily's dorky, little sister. Now, it seemed, the very existence of the original Jacob Smith had been nullified! He'd never existed. If Kaitlyn's account was to be believed, there was no “Jacob Smith” in the universe anymore – not the person he'd been at least. He was now a thirteen-year old, geeky, fangirl manga nerd named “Jenny.”
But, noticed Jacob, I still seem to be in possession of a certain ring of tarnished looking magic metal. Maybe I can fix things, yet?
As Kaitlyn yammered on, Jacob looked down at the corroded lump of copper now clutched in his dainty, girly hands. Could he activate the thing yet a third time?
What do you do now?
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