As the shrunken coach fought his adolescent emotions, Jackson picked up the dice and said, “I think we’d better put these away. Another roll and you could be in diapers.”
Tom nodded morosely. Jackson went to put the dice in the desk drawer.
“OW!” he bellowed as he stubbed his toe. The dice flew out of his hand and clattered across the desk, coming to rest on a two and a five.
Tom gasped—this would leave the already shrimpy coach a mere seven years old, barely old enough to learn the rules of the game.
But the creepy-crawly feeling never came. He looked up and saw Jackson trembling. There was a nearly audible pop and Jackson’s beard turned patchy, then disappeared. Tom watched in awe as the senior star’s hair grew out into a long fluffy mess, then stared as the hapless tight end started to shrink and lose muscle mass.
“What is hap—“ Jackson cried out, only to have his voice be stifled as his Adam’s apple shrank away. His shorts fell down, followed swiftly by his boxers. His pride and joy swelled, then dwindled urgently. Another pop and the youthening boy spat a tooth into his hand. His frame shrank again, slightly, leaving him with square shoulders and little muscle definition.
“Whoa,” said Tom. “How old are you now?”
“Eleven,” said Jackson. “I’ve lost everything I worked so hard for!” He burst into tears.
Tom went over to comfort the tween boy, only to recoil as he realized he was still looking up at him.
“What the… no! It’s not fair! You’re eleven and you’re like two inches taller than me, and I’m fourteen!”
“I told you you looked like a middle schooler,” retorted Jackson in an unfamiliar soprano voice.
“At least I’m in middle school! Have fun in elementary school, you baby!”
Jackson, incensed, shoved Tom and before long they were in a schoolyard fistfight. While Jackson was bigger and stronger, Tom had been a martial artist and so they were evenly matched.
Just then, a stentorian voice boomed across the locker room. “I better not hear any fighting going on! Who’s in here?”
“Shit,” whispered Tom, “it’s Principal Danvers. He’s gonna find us! You need clothes! Just put mine on, it’s better than nothing!”
Danvers called out, “Coach, you in here?” The door to the office opened and the bewildered principal came face to face with two tween boys in comically large clothes and a pair of dice.