Jim walked towards a group of what looked like the 'In' crowd at school - well-dressed, handsome guys who looked athletic and had that aura that surrounds the successful. They were arguing good-naturedly over some football game results. However, before he got close enough, they moved as a group, still arguing, to catch up with some girls that were just coming in the door. Jim hesitated, not sure what to do, moving slowly as he watched the boys greet what were obviously girlfriends. He almost ran directly into a group of students who had been huddled in the corner behind them, stopping just short of a skinny, younger kid with bad acne.
He flushed. "Oh! Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going." There were three boys in the group, obviously new freshmen and just as obviously social outcasts. The boy he had almost run into was tall and skinny with the stretched-out look of too much growth, dirty blonde hair, acne, and enough metal on his teeth to signal the space shuttle. A short, slightly chunky Asian boy with thick glasses stood next to him, with a dark-skinned Pakistani or Indian boy that had an honest-to-God pocket protector in his white button shirt pocket. Dorks with a capital 'D'. Remembering his own fears as a 9th grader, Jim smiled and nodded, trying to be polite. "Hi, guys. I'm new here too."
And then he remembered the ring. His eyes widened in horror as he felt a prickle of heat that started in his ring finger and spread suddenly to envelop him. Vision clouded, and he felt disoriented for a moment. Then everything cleared up. He blinked, finding that he was looking up at the tall kid. Oh, no. It couldn't be.
The Pakistani kid rolled his eyes. "Well, Duh! We're all new here. Man, this is way different than Junior High?"
The tall kid nodded. "Yeah. Hey, Jimmy, I thought you were getting hair cut yesterday. Maybe you wouldn't run into people if you could see." The boys laughed. Jim realized he was looking through a reddish haze and reached up to brush hair out of his eyes. Panic set in. "I gotta check something!" He turned and bolted for the boy's room. The mirror confirmed his worst fears. A stranger stared back at him with blue eyes - a 15 year-old, skinny, homely boy with a tangled mop of copper-red hair that hung past his shoulders, buck teeth, upturned pug nose, and so many freckles there was more freckle than pale skin. And his clothing had changed to dress slacks and a plaid button-collar long-sleeve shirt that only a mother would pick out. Even worse, he knew this was all different, that the ring must have somehow made him a dork like the three boys and even made him younger, but as he stared at his reflection it looked right. This was him, now. It wasn't that he liked looking like this, or that he'd forgotten being older. Instead, being a 15 year-old Dork was his station in life. His three friends were buddies from elementary school, and everything he had learned in school from 9th grade on was gone.
Donnie, the Pakistani boy, came in after him. "You OK, Dude?"
Jimmy nodded. "Uh, yeah. Guess we'd better get to first bell."