Allison sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand, still half-convinced this was all a prank app. She looked again at the sentence:
“A 14 year old girl is the oldest kid in her family.”
She narrowed her eyes, thumb hovering over the word “oldest.”
“Let’s see what happens when I’m not the oldest anymore,” she mumbled.
With a smirk, she tapped the word “oldest” and replaced it with “youngest.” The sentence now read:
“A 14 year old girl is the youngest kid in her family.”
She hit Apply.
For a split second, nothing happened.
Then the room lurched—like the air itself had shifted weight. Her vision blurred, not like spinning, but as if reality was momentarily stretching and snapping into a new shape.
Allison blinked.
Everything looked… wrong.
Her room—her posters, her desk, her clothes—all were subtly off. The posters on the wall were now of cartoon characters she hadn’t cared about in years. Her desk had a rounded edge and a lower chair. Her phone case was pink with glitter hearts.
She stood up—suddenly wobbling, her balance slightly off. Her jeans slid halfway down her hips. She looked down. They were huge on her.
She stumbled to the mirror.
Her breath caught.
A much younger version of herself stared back. Shorter, rounder cheeks, messy bangs that hadn’t grown out yet. She was maybe seven—eight, tops. Her arms were thinner, her frame lighter, her eyes wider.
“No way,” she whispered. Her voice was higher. Softer.
She spun around. Her bed was lower to the ground now, covered in a frilly blanket she remembered hating when she was little. A stuffed bunny sat neatly on the pillow. She hadn’t seen that toy in years.
She darted to the door and opened it.
The hallway seemed taller somehow.
Then came the footsteps—fast and heavier. Down the hall walked Lucas, only now taller than her. He was wearing a hoodie and earbuds, clearly a teenager now. He paused when he saw her.
“Hey Allie,” he said casually, ruffling her hair. “You done playing dress-up or whatever?”
She recoiled. “Lucas?”
He didn’t wait for a reply—he just walked past her and into what used to be his room. But it wasn’t a little kid’s room anymore. The door had a “KEEP OUT” sign and posters of video games and bands she didn’t recognize.
Behind her, another voice called from down the stairs.
“Allie! Snack time!”
It was Bri.
She ran up the stairs a few seconds later—now ten, at least—and holding a plate of crackers and apple slices. “Mom said to give you this. You were being all grumpy about sharing earlier.”
Allison stared at her sister. “You’re older than me now…”
Bri frowned. “Um… duh? You’re, like, the baby now. Come on, eat or I’m telling Mom you said bad words again.”
Allison stumbled back into her room, heart racing. She shut the door and grabbed her phone again with trembling hands.
The app was still open. The sentence on-screen now read:
“A 7 year old girl is the youngest kid in her family.”
She stared at it, breathing hard.
This was real.
She’d made herself the baby of the family.
And everyone else remembered it that way—except her.