Before long, you notice the vehicle is going in the wrong direction.
Concerned, you interrupt George's mom in the middle of whatever it was she was talking about. "Excuse me. Where are we going?"
She smiles sweetly. "I just thought you buys could go for a little ice cream to cheer you up. It must have been really hot at practice."
You turn to George and shake your head vigorously. He fakes a smile, turning to his mom. "Sure, Mom. That'd be great!"
You lean in to George, whispering as best you can. "What are you doing?!"
He leans into your ear. "Just act normal. It'll be easier to do whatever if she doesn't suspect anything."
"The longer we take," you hiss back at him, "the more I change!"
He thinks for a moment. "I'll see what I can do." He sits back up. "Mom? Could we drop these two off on the way home? They're pretty tired."
She turns the wheel, guiding the vehicle into a Dairy Queen parking lot. "Actually, your friend's dad asked me to watch him at our house."
You feel your eyes widen. "What?"
"My husband is looking after your brother already. Your parents said they would feel better if somebody was watching them." She pulls into a parking space. "Now, are you boys coming inside?"
You sigh to yourself. This was making things much more difficult than you had hoped. If only you had taken those stupid socks off. "I'll stay in here, thanks."
George's mom gives you a sympathetic look, still thinking you're upset about practice.
George glances at you and back to his mother. "We'll stay with him."
She nods. Each of you gives her your orders and she walk in, leaving the three of you in her SUV. You lean back in your seat and put your hands to your face, giving a frustrated moan. "I can't believe this is happening to me."
George grimaces. "Hey, calm down, alright? Everything's going to be fine."
Colby nods weakly. "Yeah. Somehow..."
You pulls your hands off your face, feeling the sparse hairs on your chin. You lean forward to get a look at your face in the vehicle's rear-view mirror. You still look like yourself, but some things are off, things only you would notice. Your features seem harder, more mature. The shape of your nose and tilt of your ears aren't quite right. At first, it looks like there's dirt smudged on your chin, but it's actually dark stubble pushing its way through your skin. Your hair also seems a shade or two darker from its usual sandy brown. One part of you is frustrated that you can't seem to keep your normal shape. Another part of you is elated that your becoming more mature, like you should be. You try to suppress that part of you, but you can't shake the nagging thought that you don't belong in this body.
You flop back into your seat. "Here's a crazy thought." You turn to your two friends, both of whom look quite concerned. "What if I AM actually my dad."
George gives his head a half shake. "No, that's crazy..."
You hold up a finger. "No, hear me out! What if I am actually my dad and I put on the socks and my son's shoes and forgot everything about my old life."
Colby considers what you said and frowns, his sad excuse of a mustache following the contours of his upper lip. "Interesting idea... But it doesn't hold a lot of water. I mean, you can remember buying the socks as a teen and putting them on for the first time, right? It stands to reason if you can remember those things, you would remember doing those things as your dad. So... I don't think that's it."
You hold up your hands and look at them. You recognize them, but they don't feel like yours. You can see dark hairs peppering your forearms, as well as a few on the backs of your hands. "If you say so."
George's mom soon returns, handing each of you a cone of the requested ice cream. You somberly accept your mint chocolate chip ice cream. Though, after you start licking it you do feel in better spirits. This flavor was your favorite, something you had in common with your dad. Before long, you're on your way to George's house. The ride is quiet, but the tension from earlier is gone, each of you greedily licking away at your cones.
After a few minutes you pull into George's driveway. You all get out, you and George grab your bags and head inside. You immediately encounter the mountainous figure of George's father, whom George had turned into yesterday. He grins at you, his teeth barely visible through his thick beard, which joins seamlessly to his mane of wild hair, thinning at the top. He immediately grabs George into a one-armed bear hug and tousles his hair, much to your friend's embarrassment.
"There's m'boy!" You knew from experience that everything the man said was loud. Even his average speaking voice was louder than some people's yelling. "How was practice?"
George feigns a smile. "It went great!"
George's mom gestures at you. "He had a rough time on the outfield today."
George rolls his eyes. "It's called a 'pitch', Mom."
"Only if you're British."
George's dad grabs you with his free arm, still holding George tightly in the other, and gives you a one-armed bear hug as well. You can feel his substantial arm hair brush against your face as you squish into his soft body. The man had no concept of personal space. At least he was friendly. "Anything you want to talk about?" His voice reverberates through your body.
You struggle a little and he lets you go. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."
He grins and grabs your chin with an enormous, meaty hand. "Growing a beard, there, eh? You look more like your dad every time I see you. Looks like Colby don't have ta worry about being the only one with facial hair!" He laughs. "Pretty soon you can grow one o'these!" He brushes his free hand through his big, bushy beard.
George's mom tuts at her husband. "Don't embarrass the boys, now. And let George go. I'm sure he wants to go play with his friends." She turns and gives you an odd look. "Though, I'm surprised I didn't notice that before. It looks very handsome."
You can feel your face flush, and you cover your chin with your hand. You feel the hairs have grown in length and density. You judge that it's akin to about a couple day's growth. "Thanks," you mutter.
George, now released from his father's loving grip, attempts you guide you and Colby away. His mom stops the three of you. "Ah ah! Shoes off in the house, please. I'm trying to keep these floors spotless."
George and Colby slip their shoes off. You manage to pry yours off eventually, not realizing how uncomfortably tight they had been getting. You can see your feet are beginning to look rather large. This causes you to notice that your shirt and pants are also getting fairly tight. Looking down you see the bottom of your shirt is just barely scraping the top of your pants, while the two usually have a fair amount of overlap. Your shirt is beginning to feel tight as your shoulders and chest are being constricted. Looking down, you can see the outline of your somewhat more muscular pecs. Looking over at George, you're startled to see you're about the same height as him. He notices this as well, and gives you a wide-eyed stare.
You turn to George's mom. "Would you mind if I used your bathroom?"
The nods and points down the hall. "First on the left."
You thank her and slip inside. In the mirror you can now easily make out the beginnings of facial hair on your chin. You can also see the occasional bit of stubble along your jaw. Your hair looks to have darkened another shade as well. You pull up your shirt to see the patch of hair on your chest has thickened, beginning to join with the hair around your nipples. There is the beginnings of another line of hair trailing down from your chest towards your belly button. Your pectoral muscles have become more defined, and you can even make out your abs. You look closely into the mirror. You look more mature, perhaps a high school senior, maybe older. You were never good with ages.
You pat your pants pocket, feeling your house keys. You needed to get to those socks as soon as possible.