Billy’s phone buzzed with its morning notification—a photo of his son, Alix, wrapped in a little blue blanket and drooling as he grinned up at the camera. Billy’s heart squeezed a little. Alix’s mom, Sara, sent a new picture every day, and each one reminded him of how much he was missing. But he also knew, realistically, that there was no way he could keep up with being a full-time dad. Between university, the demands of law school, and the reality of being a thirteen-year-old trapped in a twenty-year-old’s body, his life already felt like an overloaded balancing act.
Billy sighed, pocketing his phone, and headed off to his first lecture of the day. His law program was one of the rare academic options open to Skippers, and he’d had to ace his assessment tests just to qualify. His mind was sharp, his memory almost photographic, and he’d always had a knack for handling pressure—traits that had been his ticket into university, while so many of his Skipper friends struggled with manual jobs, pulled away from school by the demands of early adult life. But Billy knew he was lucky; the law school dean had even said as much, nodding approvingly when Billy, still only twelve, had laid out his plans for the future.
Lecture was demanding, with hours of note-taking and rapid-fire discussions that most of his classmates seemed to handle with ease. Billy enjoyed it, though; he was the only Skipper in his year, and his professors seemed impressed by his insights and dedication. But he could tell some of his classmates saw him as… different. A few knew he was younger than he looked, but he’d stopped explaining himself after a while. It was easier to blend in, even if he felt like he was always one misstep away from giving away just how young he was. For now, though, he was part of their circle—going to study groups, grabbing lunch in the bustling cafeteria, and even getting invited out to social gatherings from time to time. But he knew that would probably change as soon as his body began to speed through the next few years of visible aging.
After his lecture, Billy met up with a few classmates to review a case study, laughing along as they joked about their “terrible” professor and the seemingly endless stream of assignments. Yet, deep down, he felt a nagging uncertainty about how long they’d see him as one of them. He’d watched other Skippers, only a few years older, start to look worn out by their mid-twenties, sometimes passing through the stages of visible age in a few short years. The thought haunted him—wondering if he’d start to look thirty, then forty, before he’d even seen his twenties for real.
By the time he got home that evening, the house was quiet. Max, now sixteen, was usually out with friends or his girlfriend, but they still shared a bond, even if it was different now. When Max was around, they’d sometimes play video games together, picking up where they’d left off years ago, but it was rare now; they both had their own lives, and Billy’s had only grown more complicated.
Billy stepped into the bathroom, turning on the light, and took a good look at his reflection. His face, though still young, seemed somehow different today. A faint, barely-there line was starting to form around his mouth, and his skin, though clear, didn’t have the same fresh smoothness it had last week. He knew he had to be realistic; the rapid aging was part of being a Skipper. Some aged slowly, staying in a comfortable window of early adulthood for years. But others sped through it, looking nearly elderly by the time they hit thirty.
He let out a long breath, gripping the sides of the sink as he studied the subtle signs in his face. The gamble was his reality. He’d keep his footing for as long as he could, finish law school, and stay in his son’s life, hoping the changes would be gradual enough to let him keep up. For now, though, he’d do his best to be Billy—the young father, the university student, and the teenager doing everything he could to beat the odds.