Tommy's head swirled with chaotic, jumbled thoughts as he stumbled upright. The world around him seemed louder, brighter, and infinitely more overwhelming than it had been just moments ago. Every sound felt magnified: the faint creak of floorboards, the distant hum of the car engine outside, even his own breath rasping in his chest. His body felt alien—smaller, faster, as though it was moving without his permission. His legs bounced uncontrollably, his fingers twitching against his thighs.
“What the hell…” Tommy muttered, but his voice came out high-pitched and shaky, not his usual tone. It wasn’t his voice at all. The words barely registered in his mind before his thoughts skittered elsewhere. His hands darted up to his face, patting it in disbelief. His skin felt softer, his hair longer, brushing against his shoulders in ways that made him squirm. It was like his body wasn’t his, and his mind couldn’t stop racing long enough to process it.
Across the room, Max—now in Tommy’s body—woke with a gasp, bolting upright as though he’d been shocked awake. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar height of his perspective, the stillness in his head, the weight of a larger, stronger frame. He pressed his hands to his temples, bracing himself for the usual cacophony of racing thoughts and impulses.
But there was nothing.
The quiet hit him like a physical blow. For the first time in his life, his mind wasn’t running a mile a minute. There were no buzzing distractions, no uncontrollable urges to move or touch or fidget. He sat there, frozen, his breathing slowing as he realized just how… clear everything felt. He could think. He could hold onto a single thought without it dissolving into a hundred others.
“What’s… what’s happening?” Max whispered, his voice lower, steadier than he’d ever heard it. He looked down at his hands—larger, stronger, and unfamiliar. His gaze darted to the mirror, still gleaming faintly in the dim light, and his reflection stopped him cold. The face staring back at him wasn’t his own. It was Tommy’s.
“Oh my God.” His voice cracked as he stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over the unfamiliar weight of his new body. He turned back to the small, twitchy figure on the floor. “Tommy?” he asked, though his voice was filled with disbelief.
Tommy turned to him, his wide eyes brimming with tears. “Max? What… what did you do?!” His words tumbled out in a frantic rush, barely coherent. “I can’t—I can’t stop—everything’s too much, and I can’t think, and my head—my head won’t—won’t stop!” His hands clawed at his hair, tugging at the long strands as though trying to make sense of the chaos. He didn’t even realize his legs were bouncing wildly, or that he was gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Max, still adjusting to the calm and clarity of Tommy’s body, stared at him. Slowly, a realization dawned. “We… we swapped,” he said, the words coming out slow and deliberate, as though testing the sound of his own voice. “This is your body… and I’m in it.”
Tommy froze, his small hands shaking. “What? No. No, no, no. Fix it. Fix it, Max. I can’t—” His voice cracked as tears spilled over, the overwhelming pressure in his head making it impossible to think straight. He felt like he was drowning in his own mind, unable to hold onto a single coherent thought. Everything shifted too quickly—he’d start to cry, then get angry, then feel embarrassed, all in the span of seconds.
Meanwhile, Max’s panic was ebbing, replaced by a creeping sense of wonder. He flexed his hands, marveling at how strong they felt, how steady. He took a deep breath and felt… centered. Clear. For the first time, he didn’t feel like he was trapped inside his own chaotic mind. It was intoxicating.
“This…” Max whispered, his lips curving into a slow grin. “This feels amazing.”
Tommy staggered to his feet, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. “No! It doesn’t! It’s awful! I can’t stop moving—I can’t stop thinking—and everything’s too loud!” He grabbed at Max’s—his—shirt, his small hands trembling. “Give me my body back!”
Max looked down at him, the grin fading into something colder. “Why would I? Do you have any idea how awful it is to be me? To feel like you’re always five steps behind everyone else, like your own mind is working against you? I finally feel normal, Tommy. I feel good.”
Tommy’s breath hitched as he shook his head violently, tears streaking his face. “No! You don’t understand! I can’t—I can’t do this! Please, Max!” His words came out in a jumbled rush, his emotions spiraling out of control. He sank to his knees, his small body shaking with sobs. “Please…”
Max hesitated, but the memory of his old life—the constant noise, the struggle to focus, the frustration of always being the ‘difficult’ kid—clenched inside him like a fist. He straightened, looking down at Tommy with a mix of pity and resolve. “I’m not going back,” he said firmly. “I’m Tommy now. You’re Max. You’ll get used to it.”
Before Tommy could protest, Max grabbed his smaller body and carried him effortlessly to the hallway. “You’ll thank me someday,” Max said as he dropped Tommy unceremoniously outside the door. He stepped back into the room and slammed the door shut, locking it with a decisive click.
Tommy scrambled to his feet, his body jittering uncontrollably. “No! Let me in!” he screamed, pounding on the door with small fists that lacked the strength he was used to. His words tumbled out in a frantic, high-pitched ramble. “It’s me! I’m not Max! You’re not Tommy! The mirror—swapped—we have to fix it!”
His thoughts raced too fast to form coherent sentences. Everything blurred together, a whirlwind of panic, anger, and desperation. He started kicking the door, his small legs flailing in a way that seemed perfectly logical to his frenzied mind. He hated this—hated how weak and small he felt, hated the chaos in his head.
“Max, open the door!” he shrieked, his voice breaking. “Please!”
The commotion brought Linda upstairs. “Max!” she called, her tone sharp with concern. She found her youngest son—at least, what she thought was her youngest—kicking at Tommy’s door, tears streaming down his flushed face. “Max, what on earth are you doing?”
Tommy turned to her, his small body shaking. “Mom! It’s me, Tommy! That’s Max in there, and we—” His words dissolved into a frantic, jumbled mess, his thoughts spiraling too fast to keep up. “We swapped—mirror—I’m not—he’s me—you have to fix it!”
Linda crouched down, gently pulling him into her arms. “Shh, sweetie,” she murmured, stroking his hair as he fidgeted with the ends, tugging and twisting them nervously. “It’s okay. You’re just wound up. Remember what we talked about with your teacher? Calmness is the goal, remember?”
“No, Mom, it’s me! It’s Tommy!” he wailed, but his words came out like the nonsensical ramblings Max was known for.
Linda only smiled, holding him close. “It’s okay, Max. You just need to breathe. Everything will be fine.”
Tommy clung to her, his small hands fidgeting with her hair, his mind a chaotic storm of thoughts and emotions. As she whispered soothing words, he looked back at the locked door, the weight of his new reality sinking in.
No one would believe him. Not now. Not like this.
Out side of James room.
Linda scooped Tommy—who she thought was Max—into her arms with practiced ease. His small body trembled as he continued to ramble incoherently, his words tumbling over each other in rapid bursts. She walked down the hall, cradling him gently, her expression softening. This wasn’t the first time her youngest had worked himself into an overexcited state, and she knew exactly what to do.
“Shh, sweetheart,” Linda murmured, smoothing his hair back as he squirmed in her arms. His little hands tugged at the hem of her sleeve, his energy buzzing against her. “It’s okay, Max. You’re just a little overstimulated. Let’s get you calmed down, hmm?”
Tommy tried to protest, his voice cracking as he cried out, “I’m not Max! Mom, it’s me, Tommy! You don’t—don’t understand!” His sentences broke apart as his thoughts bounced chaotically in his mind. He fidgeted with her sleeve, then her hair, then the fabric of his own shirt, unable to stop himself.
Linda hummed softly, ignoring his words as she carried him into Max’s room. “It’s okay,” she repeated gently, settling him onto the small bed covered in brightly colored sheets adorned with cartoon characters. “We’ll get you feeling better.”
Tommy’s protests faltered as his body continued to betray him. His thoughts were still tangled and racing, but Linda’s calm voice and steady presence were like an anchor in the storm. He struggled weakly against her as she retrieved a set of Max’s pajamas from a drawer. “I’m not him,” he mumbled, his voice quieter now, though the chaos in his head didn’t let up. “I’m… I’m Tommy…”
“Of course you are,” Linda said soothingly, her tone laced with affectionate indulgence. “My big boy pretending to be Tommy again, huh? Well, let’s get you comfortable.”
Tommy wanted to shout, to scream, to make her believe him, but his words jumbled together before they could reach his lips. He let out a frustrated whimper as Linda gently guided him into Max’s favorite pajamas—soft, warm, and printed with a cartoon astronaut. The snug fabric was oddly comforting, and though Tommy hated to admit it, he felt a small bit of the tension in his body ease.
Linda tucked him under the covers, smoothing the blankets around him with the same care she’d always shown Max. “There we go,” she said, her voice a soft lullaby. “Now, just lie still for a moment. We’ll do our usual routine, okay?”
Tommy blinked up at her, his hazel eyes wide and brimming with tears. His hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, his legs bouncing restlessly beneath it. “Mom,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s really me… I’m Tommy…”
Linda only smiled, brushing the hair back from his forehead. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” she said gently. “Let’s take a deep breath together. In… and out…”
Reluctantly, Tommy followed her lead. He inhaled shakily, his breath catching, then exhaled. They repeated the process, Linda’s soothing voice guiding him through each step. To his surprise, the storm in his head began to quiet. It wasn’t gone—not entirely—but it dulled to a faint buzz, no longer overwhelming him. His body, though still humming with residual energy, felt less frantic.
“That’s better,” Linda murmured, reaching for a well-worn storybook on Max’s nightstand. She opened it to a bookmarked page and began to read, her voice warm and melodic.
Tommy stared up at her, his body slowly relaxing as the rhythm of her words washed over him. His thoughts, still chaotic, felt slower now, as if they were caught in a gentle current instead of a raging river. His eyes grew heavy, his limbs sinking into the softness of the bed. He felt safe, comforted in a way he hadn’t expected.
“I’m really Tommy,” he mumbled again, his voice soft and drowsy. His hand reached out, brushing against her arm in a weak attempt to get her attention.
Linda smiled down at him, her hand rubbing gentle circles on his back as she continued to read. “I know, sweetheart,” she said, her voice light and indulgent. “You’re always my imaginative little one.”
Tommy wanted to argue, to tell her again, but his words failed him. The combination of her soothing voice, the gentle touch of her hand, and the rhythmic cadence of the story lulled him further into calm. For the first time since the swap, his new ADHD-fueled mind felt manageable. He let out a small sigh, his eyes fluttering closed.
Linda continued to read, even after his breathing evened out. She stayed beside him, her hand still rubbing his back, until she was certain he was asleep. Quietly, she closed the book and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.
“Sweet dreams, Max,” she whispered, unaware that the boy in the bed wasn’t her youngest at all.
Tommy murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, a tear slipping down his cheek as he sank deeper into the unfamiliar peace of rest.
Back in James room with max in James body.
Max stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, marveling at the reflection that greeted him. It was strange—alien, yet thrilling. The body in the mirror was strong, lean, and athletic. He flexed his arms experimentally, watching the muscles ripple in ways his old body never could. But it wasn’t just the physical strength that captivated him. It was the quiet.
His mind, for the first time, felt still. No buzzing thoughts, no flashing distractions, no hammering heartbeat that seemed to fuel his every move. It was like stepping into a calm, pristine lake after years of being tossed around by a stormy sea. He could think, really think, without his brain leaping from one idea to the next like an out-of-control pinball.
He smiled to himself, running a hand over his now-short hair. It felt right. It felt good. For so long, Max had felt like a passenger in his own body, constantly dragged along by impulses he couldn’t control. Now, he felt in control. He felt normal.
And he wasn’t giving it up. Not for anything.
A knock at the door startled him, pulling him from his thoughts. His mom’s voice followed, firm but calm. “Tom? I need to talk to you.”
Max froze, his pulse quickening for a moment. Had Tommy somehow convinced her of the truth? Was she here to demand an explanation? He hesitated, glancing at the door, then back at the mirror. No, he decided. That was impossible. He had to play it cool.
“Coming!” he called, pulling a shirt over his head quickly. He straightened up and opened the door, greeting Linda with what he hoped was Tommy’s usual expression—neutral but attentive.
Linda stepped in, her brow furrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. “Tom, I’m really disappointed,” she began, her tone carrying the weight of a lecture he’d heard her give many times before—but never to him. “You know better than to get your little brother overstimulated like that and then just leave him on his own. How many times have we talked about this?”
Max blinked, scrambling to piece together what she was talking about. “Uh… I—sorry?” he ventured, his voice cautious.
Linda sighed, shaking her head. “Tom, he’s been doing so well recently. You’ve been doing so well, keeping him calm, helping him stay on track. But tonight? Tonight was a mess. He got so worked up he couldn’t settle down, and I found him crying and pounding on your door. You can’t just walk away when he’s like that.”
Max’s mind raced. Tommy must’ve done something out there to blow his cover, but thankfully, Linda had chalked it up to “Max” being overstimulated. He nodded solemnly, trying to look guilty. “I’m really sorry, Mom,” he said, lowering his gaze slightly. “I didn’t mean to upset him. It’s just… he’s been really excited about the move, and he wanted to show me his room. I told him not tonight, and he got upset. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
Linda studied him for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “Max has been through a lot with this move. You know how he is—everything has to be a routine. It’s the only way he’ll settle into this new place.” Her tone shifted to one of concern. “He looks up to you, Tom. You’re his older brother, and he trusts you. I need you to be there for him, okay?”
Max nodded quickly, hiding the flicker of irritation he felt. “I get it. I’ll do better. I promise.”
Linda exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. “Good. Because tomorrow, you’re on chore duty. And you’re spending the whole day with Max, helping him adjust. He needs structure, and you’re going to help me give it to him. Understood?”
Max bit back a groan but nodded. “Understood, Mom. I’ll make it right.”
Linda reached out, cupping his cheek briefly in a rare moment of affection. “Thank you. Goodnight, sweetheart.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then turned to leave.
“Goodnight,” Max called after her, waiting until the door clicked shut before breaking into a triumphant grin.
He walked back to the mirror, his reflection smirking back at him. Pretending to be Tommy was easier than he’d expected. The calmness in his head, the steadiness in his body—it felt natural, as though he’d been meant to be in this skin all along. He rubbed his hand across his face, flexed his arms again, and chuckled softly to himself.
“This is who I am now,” he whispered, his grin widening. “I’m not Max anymore. I’m Tom.”
And as far as he was concerned, that wasn’t going to change.