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Different "Are you sure coming back the morning after vandalizing a fucking storefront to such a brilliant plan?" I asked as I grabbed my bag from the back of Chris's car. "A bit risky, don't you think?" Chris favored me with a smirk through his dark mop as he said, "Am I the only one with balls around here?" I'd had just about enough of that skinny runt, but I couldn't think of any way out of this without looking like a wimp, so I turned and headed for the beach. "Not so fast, Mitch my boy," said Chris. "Before we set up, we're going to check out that gift shop." That stopped me. "You're shitting me! You're going back to the fucking scene? The cops are probably scoping it already. Planning to turn yourself in?" "Not fucking likely. I'm just gonna cruise by and enjoy my handiwork." He started for the boardwalk. He was baiting me but there was nothing to do but follow his skinny ass. This was pissing me off. We had come to this beach to trawl for chicks and he wanted to gloat about how daring he was. Last time we went out on the hunt up the coast, he got laid by a bitch who was totally out of his league and now I needed to even the score. There was no way that I, Mitch Erickson, was going to get beaten twice in a row by Chris Heidecker. Chris and I had grown up together but, other than being the same age, twenty-four, we could hardly be more different. He was a skinny five- foot, six inches, barely tipping the scales at 140 pounds. I was over six feet and 200 pounds. We both worked out but, while I was ripped, Chris could barely put any meat on his hairy body no matter how hard he tried. I had square jawed good looks, while he had a ferret face. I kept my hair neatly trimmed, while he literally looked like a walking mop. He was reckless, loud, and not too bright. I was controlled, the brains of the outfit. So why the hell did he keep landing the babes? It made no sense. Now we were wasting time checking out the scene of his most recent misadventure. Yesterday, after work, we decided to check out Shandura Beach to see if it might be a good place to score. We perused some of the establishments along the boardwalk, including a gift shop with some smug hippie behind the counter who looked like she'd stepped right out of the Summer of Love. A goofball sign prominently displayed a laughable poem about what would happen to anyone who shoplifted from the place, bullshit about being magically transformed. Pathetic. Naturally, Chris couldn't get the thing out of his head. He just had to go back and steal something, but by the time he made that brilliant decision, it was getting dark and the offending shop was closed. So what did he do? He went back to the car, got some spray paint and a tire iron and sprayed the C-word across the front of it, smashing a window for good measure. The sheer stupidity of it was breathtaking. The only thing that got me back here was the chance to get some action, break some hearts, and top that skinny piece of shit for once. I needed wipe that shit-eating grin off his face, so I said, "Even if no one saw us, how do you know there wasn't a fucking hidden camera?" "Nah," he said. "If there was one, it wouldn't be hidden. They would've wanted us to see it." As we passed a store selling beachwear and other paraphernalia, I said, "It was still a fucking stupid thing to do." His grin widened. "Don't worry, Mitch. You'll get your chance at a sweet piece of ass. You can have my leftovers. I promise." "Fuck you!" I said as we reached our destination. We stopped and stared at the cluttered little shop with its wooden sign that read TINA'S GIFTS. The window wasn't boarded up because it wasn't broken. The word that Chris had sprayed across the front was gone, as if it had never been there. We stood speechless as a family dressed for a swim opened the door, tinkling a little bell, and headed down the boardwalk. I couldn't help but glance around at the weekend crowds gathering along the beachfront this fine morning. A group of hot women were preparing to play a game of beach volleyball. It all seems so normal. "No fucking way," said Chris under his breath. "Shit, shit, shit." He reached out and touched the unbroken glass. I felt an odd tingling sensation ran up my back the moment his fingers made contact. From the way his hand pulled back, I could almost believe that he'd felt it too. We took it in for a moment longer, then turned and walked away. As we made our way toward the beach, Chris said, "Whoever owns that place, must have connections to get it fixed so quick." "Fixed?" I said. "Are you fucking nuts? The edge of that window had old flaking paint on it and the wood looks just as weathered as before. If they'd covered over your tag already, it'd have a new paint job. It's like fucking magic or something." The mention of magic seemed to shake him. "Forget that shit. Let's hit the beach. We came here to get laid and that's exactly what we're going to do." As we stripped down to our trunks and set out some blankets, all nice and regular, as a base of operations to trawl for targets, I thought about that little verse back in the gift shop. It seemed to promise that anyone that stole from the place would be changed somehow. What might happen to someone who'd vandalized it? Chris seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he said, "We should go our separate ways for now. We can scout out the babes in a wider area that way." I figured he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts, which was fine with me. Of course, thoughts of magic were fucking nonsense. I didn't believe in that shit and neither did he. For the next few hours, I strolled along the beach, going this way and stopping for a stretch and then going that way and hanging around for another stretch, checking out the ladies. There was plenty to see, including an unusual number of particularly fetching twins, sweet and ready for a threesome. I even saw a gorgeous chick pushing a double stroller with twin babies and a foxy Chinese bitch pushing a little carriage while two identical kindergarten-aged girls followed behind. The view was nice, but kids are a dealbreaker. I attempted a few of my tried-and-true pickup lines on some of the truly primo ones, but my heart wasn't in it. I couldn't get that gift shop out of my head. Did we hallucinate the whole thing? Did we both imagine it? After a few hours, I was starting to get thoroughly pissed. Why get scared when you can get mad. I eventually ended up back to our base camp, with the intention of telling Chris I was through for the day, only to find him lying next to a stunning, curvy blonde in a shiny red bikini. Well, that figured. Chris sat up, turned to me and said, "Hey bro! Great to see you. I'd like to introduce you to my new friend Marilyn Sweet." "Yoh," I said. She raised her sunglasses. "Hi." She then turned to Chris. "Listen, darling, since your little friend has arrived, I think I'll go over to that beachwear shop. I'm sure I saw something there that you'll just love." With fluid, catlike grace, she stood up and sashayed toward the boardwalk. I had to tear my eyes away from that gorgeous booty to look at Chris who was saying, "Isn't she the most smoking hot thing you ever saw?" He seemed to have forgotten the gift shop. "I wasn't hunting more than five minutes when she caught my eye. I was so thrown by the sight of her that I used one of my lamest lines. She gave me that look that said, like, 'Are you kidding me?' Then we hit it off anyway!" I glanced back at her swaying figure and said, "She seems like a total MILF all right." "Yeah," he said with a sly grin, "she ain't got any kids but she really wants some and her husband's shooting blanks. She's thirty-six, which means her biological clock is ticking, if you know what I mean. I offered to rectify the situation, and she was fucking all in!" I sat down on the blanket the woman had just vacated and looked at Chris. "What the hell is with you? How could you be thinking about that after what we saw this morning?" "Shit, why worry about it? There's gotta be a logical explanation. Frankly, I couldn't give a flying fuck right now. I think I'm in love." "Because you're about to score with the hottest married chick this side of Big Sur? You better hope her husband's on the small side and don't believe in guns." He chuckled. "You mean Dave? He sounds like a total fucking loser. I have no idea how he could have ended up with her. Marilyn and I have been talking nonstop all morning." Then he looked as serious as I've ever seen him. "When I said I was in love, I meant it. No shit, I think I can get her to divorce the guy." "She is outstanding," I said, "but at that age, she doesn't have enough shelf-life to be worth the trouble, not as far as I'm concerned." "Maybe if you talked to her, you'd get it." He looked as dreamy as a teenage girl. "I'd do anything for her." I didn't know what to say. He'd never talked like that before. I was starting to get jealous. We gazed at the sea as crowds of people in colorful swimwear splashed in the water. After what seemed like a week, I finally said, "Well, she certainly lives up to her name, she is one sweet mama." He turned to me and gushed, "She really is! She's just the best. If she wants to be a mommy, I'll make her a mommy!" I couldn't believe this bubbly persona he'd suddenly taken on. "I'm sure you will." After we sat in silence a while longer, Marilyn returned with a shopping bag. "Chrissy, dear, I bought the perfect bathing suit for you. We'll match!" He leapt to his feet and said, "Great!" I was starting to get alarmed. She had called him Chrissy and he hadn't batted an eye. She handed him the bag and said, "Now you run along to the changing rooms and try it on." He took the bag and trotted off. I got up and followed. No way was I going to spend two minutes alone with that woman, not with the freaky effect she was having on Chris. Once we got near the changing rooms, I said, "What the fuck is wrong with you? You seem different." He looked annoyed. "You're just jealous because she's so beautiful and you've never been in love." He flipped his hair back behind his willowy shoulders. "I mean it, man. Something just ain't right. I think it has something to do with that gift shop." "Will you, like, forget about that stupid place. Now I'm gonna go get changed." He spun around and headed into one of the changing rooms. His hair flowed smoothly to the middle of his back which seemed wrong. It was too neat. As I waited, I thought about Chrissy. Had he always been blonde? Had his skin always been so smooth and hairless? I had to think. His name was Krissy Heidecker. He was 20 years old, five foot three inches and about 115 pounds, the same as always. Yet something wasn't right. I stood impatiently, wondering what was taking him so long. Maybe if we talked more, I could make sense of this. When he finally came out, I said, "Listen, I don't know what's..." Kristy looked at me and said, "What's wrong?" He was wearing a shiny red one-piece swimsuit with thin straps over his slender shoulders. It looked right on his slight five-foot one inch, 110-pound frame. Did he have breasts? "That's a girl's swimsuit," I said. She looked down at herself. "Like, sure. I'm totally not gonna wear a guy's swimsuit." I shook the cobwebs from my mind and said, "You were a guy just a few minutes ago." She dropped the shopping bag as her large blue eyes grew larger. "You're, like, totally right. I was a guy named... um... Chrissy?" "I think something like that, try to remember. Say everything you remember about yourself. I that worked for me." She clasped her slender hands in front of her pert breasts. Her nail polish matched her swimsuit. "Okay, let's see. My name is Kristy Heisweeter. I'm, like, sixteen and... um ... I came to the beach with my mom to look at cute guys. No that isn't right. I am a guy! At least I was earlier." I grabbed her little hands in mine and said, "Didn't your name used to be Heidecker?" Her eyes grew still wider. "Yeah! My name was Christopher Heidecker and I was as old as you! I was a big hairy guy and I was here to take advantage of girls like me." "Well," I said with a sense of some relief which lessened my rising terror a bit. "You weren't exactly big by guy-standards and you wouldn't have been looking for jailbait." "Yeah," she said, "I guess fifteen is a little on the young side." I looked down at her little frame, she was curvy for such a tiny thing, and said, "We were both 23... I mean 24." She frowned. "I can't lie to myself anymore. I know what I did to that shop caused this. That sign was, like, totally right and not just about stealing either. We were both disgusting and pervy. The more I think about it, the less I like who I was." "That's the transformation talking," I said. "How can you be so calm about this? Why aren't you scared shitless?" "I... I kinda am. But I have Mom and that makes me feel okay. Maybe it's the magic affecting my brain." "Mom?" "You know, Marilyn." I stared at her. Her eyes grew wide again. "Oh yeah. I guess she isn't really my mom, but it's, like, getting harder not to think of her that way. I guess I don't want her to not be my mom because she's totally great. I, like, can't stand that she didn't used to be my mom because that's not how she feels to me, you know? She is my..." I grabbed her hand and said, "Come on, we have someone we need to talk to." Before we even reached the gift shop, she was there, standing in the middle of the boardwalk with her arms crossed, looking as if she had been expecting us. She was still dressed like a 1960s hippie with a beaded headband, a tie-dyed t-shirt, and skintight jeans that flared at the bottom with stylized flowers sewn in. She had sandals on her feet and a large round peace sign hanging from a chain around her neck. The outfit, including her long frizzy brown hair, suited her since she was tall and lean yet curved in all the right places with an attractive yet stern face. Under different circumstances, I would have done her. "So," she said, "you two have finally decided to come over for a rap session. Groovy." "What have you done to her... I mean him!" I said. She looked critically at Kristy. "She did turn out nicely. Cute as a button." "You need to change him back!" She looked at me. "You gonna make me?" I was suddenly reminded of what I was dealing with. This woman could transform people inside and out. I should have gotten out of Dodge as soon as I had my first clue. "Well?" she said. "Planning to continue your freak out?" I was at a loss for words. "It's... It's okay, I guess," said Kristy. "I suppose I deserve this but I kinda feel like... like..." "Like you don't mind?" said the woman. "Like maybe you're grooving on it?" "Yeah. I guess I like being Kristy Sweet. I love Mom and Dad and my new life is totally dope. I think I hated myself before. This isn't even like punishment." I stared at Kristy. "So, you want to stay like this?" She looked down shyly and nodded. "What about you, sport?" said the woman. I turned back to her. "What do you mean?" "You're part of this too, big guy. The scales won't be even until you're dealt with. I've been putting it off because you both need to know why this happened before you forget about it again, at least for a while." I couldn't believe this. "Are you saying you're going to transform me too? I didn't do anything." "Sure, man, you did nothing. You think a judge would called you guiltless?" I looked around in terror. I wanted to run but I didn't think I could run from this. "I'm not like Kristy, we're totally different. We've always been different! I never would have..." "Sorry, man." She shook her head. "That ain't the point. Besides, it's no downer. You've wasted your life, Mitch. You both have. You came from messed-up families and you've been looking for validation as pickup artists, a pathetic, destructive lifestyle. I'm giving you another chance. I only burn the ones that are beyond recovery." "But it's not fair! Why should I..." She was gone. I'd been looking right at her and then she wasn't there. I didn't see her blink out or fade away. She just wasn't there. "Where the fuck did you go?" I said. A few passing beachgoers glanced at me as if I were crazy. "Who are you shouting at?" said Kristy. "Well it was that..." I didn't know. I couldn't picture her in my mind or even remember the place Kristy had vandalized. "Come on," said Kristy. "Let's go back to Mom so she can see how snatched I look in my new swimsuit." She headed for the beach. I continued to think as I followed her. If I couldn't remember where to go to argue my case, I would be transformed the way Kristy had. I looked at the slim little 15-year-old ahead of me. She was cute, but I was 21 and would get in trouble if I made a move on her. I trotted up and said, "Kristy, who was that we were just talking to?" If I couldn't remember maybe she could. She turned to me with an eyebrow raised. "You mean that hippie lady from Tina's Gifts?" Yeah, now I remembered, the hula lady from Tammy's Grapes! Trisha's Garage? Twyla's Gabardine? "So, what was it again?" Now she stopped and looked at me as if I were crazy. "I told you. That hypee lady from Teenaz Gyftzz. What's with you? It's like you're getting totally scatterbrained like me." "No way," I said. "I'm totally different from you. You're, like, a fifteen-year-old girl and I'm an eighteen-year-old guy and I'm at least three inches taller than you." She glanced around, as if she was afraid someone might overhear her, and said, "What's it like to have a... a penis? I can't remember." All this creepy weird stuff going on and she asks me that? "I don't know. It feels like having a dick. Why ask that now?" "I guess because I thought I better ask while I could. I think I might forget that I used to have one. Besides, you're getting more like me all the time." I brushed some strands of hair from my face and said, "What are you talking about? I'm, like, totally different from you. Just because we have the same hair doesn't mean we're not different." She looked at me as if I were the crazy one and said, "Okay, so how are we different?" I considered. I reached up with my slim hands and cupped my breasts. They were the same size as hers. Finally, I said, "I'm Misty, while you're Kristy. That's different." "Sure," said Kristy, "but we're still identical twins. That's probably why mom gave me a red bathing suit and you a pink one. We're the same." "No," I said firmly. "I just look like you. I can totally remember what it felt like to have a dick." Even as I said it, the memory vanished. "Anyway, I'm different from you. I'm unique." Kristy frowned. "We were unique before and we were, like, total trash." "You might've hated yourself, but I was perfectly fine," I lied. "I'm my own person." "Sure," said Kristy. "Whatever." We reached the spot where Mom was sunning herself. "Hi Mom," said Kristy. "What do you think?" She dropped her bag and twirled around. Mom sat up and said, "Beautiful! Give me a spin too, Misty." I spun around. My bathing suit was prettier than Kristy's. Mom's warm smile sent shivers down my spine. I wanted her to cuddle me. "You're both gorgeous and perfect," she said. "If I hadn't gotten you different colored suits, even I might have a hard time telling you apart." "That's not true, Mom," I said. "I'm different. I was born first." She chuckled. "Sure. You're older by six minutes." "So that means we're different." "Yeah," said Kristy. "Different." I glared at her. "You're not helping." Mom sat down again. "You girls go swim while Mommy works on her tan." "Mom!" said Kristy. "Don't talk like that. We're not little kids, we're almost thirteen." "Yeah," I said. "Almost." "Well, go look at boys then," she said with a laugh. "Oh Mom," we said. "Yuck!" As we headed to the water, I said, "I don't care what she thinks. Just because we're the same age doesn't make us the same. When we were guys, we were the same age." Kristy nodded. "Don't worry, Misty. I know we're different." "Yeah, different," I said. We swam for a while and splashed each other until Mom came and asked if we would like to go shopping. That sounded great. "That sounds great!" said Kristy. "Yeah," I said. We followed Mom to the changing rooms and put on our summer dresses. Kristy's was white with red flowers but mine was red with white flowers. We put on straw hats and sandals, which looked much better with my dress than hers, and grabbed our purses and bags. Mom changed into a more adult version of our outfits. When we got to the car, a pink convertible, we both wanted to sit in the front seat with Mom but she made us sit in the back so she could keep her bag next to her. We didn't like that. Then she put the top down and we headed downtown. I loved riding with the top down. "I love riding with the top down," said Kristy. "Yeah," I said. As we pulled into the parking lot of the Shandura Mall, Kristy and I squealed at the thought of all the stores we could look in. After we pulled into a spot, Mom glanced over her shoulder and said. "You two are such little sweethearts." We weren't little. "Mom!" said Kristy. "We're not little. We're almost eleven!" "Yeah," I said. "Almost." Mom took us to a bunch of stores so we could try on cute dresses and shoes and we got bracelets. Then Mom took us to a toy store. We got Barbie dolls, a blonde one and a brunette one. That's because we're different. After that, we drove back to the beach and got ice cream. Mom asked us what flavor. "Aw Mommy," said Kristy, "you know we love strawberry." We love strawberry. As we licked our ice cream cones, Kristy said, "This is real good." "Yeah," I said. "Real good." We walked around the beach for a while looking in some shops on the boardwalk and then went back to the car so Kristy and me could get our pink plastic pails and shovels to make a sandcastle. My pale was nicer because I was different from Kristy. Mommy laid down a blanket and sat on it while we ran to a clear patch of sand. "Be careful with your dresses," said Mommy. "Sure Mommy," we said. As we started piling sand, I said, "I think we've stopped getting littler." Kristy nodded, "I think we haven't gotten littler since we had ice cream. I keep forgetting about it and then I remember." "Yeah," I said. "I keep forgetting, then I remember too." "It's hard to remember what it was like to be older." "Yeah, it's hard to remember." Kristy looked thoughtful as she dumped another pail of sand onto our growing castle. "I think we were bad and that's why we were punished." "No," I said, as I dumped another pail of sand onto our growing castle. "You were bad. I'm different." Kristy frowned. "We're identical. We were both bad that's why we're the same now." "We are not!" I said as I threw a handful of sand at her. "We are too!" she said and threw a handful of sand at me. "Are not!" "Are too!" "Are not!" "Are too!" "ARE NOT!" "ARE TOO!" We jumped on each other and start pulling hair. Mommy ran to us and hauled us apart, holding us as we glare at each other. "Well," said Mommy, "if you keep that up, you'll ruin your dresses. I guess it's time to go home. Should I tell Daddy about this?" "No!" we said. Mommy took our hands and pulled us toward the car. A tall lady with long hair and a headband came up to Mommy and said, "What a cute pair of groovy little twins." A feeling of vague fear filled us as we looked up at the lady. She talked with Mommy for a while about the weather and how we were enjoying the beach and then crouched down until she was even with us and said, "How old are you two?" "Eight," we said. She glanced at Mommy. "If the flowers on their dresses weren't slightly different, it would be impossible to tell them apart." "Yeah," said Mommy, "they are so identical that we may have mixed them up a few times before they got old enough to tell themselves apart. I'll never know for sure if that's really Kristy and that's really Misty." She chuckled. "We're different," I said. The woman looked at me and said, "Think so? How?" I pointed at Kristy and said, "She thinks we're not different, but I think we are. That's different." The woman laughed. "That's some heavy logic!" I knew who she was now, so I said, "It was mean of you to make us identical." Kristy poked me and said, "It was not mean!" I poked Kristy. "Was too mean." "Whoa there, munchkins." The woman pushed us apart and turned to me, "Tell you what, little lady, if you really hate being the same as your sister, all you have to do is wish it and you won't be identical anymore. You really will be different." "Awe," said Kristy. "Why does she get a wish and I don't?" The woman looked at Kristy. "You remember what you did last night, don't you?" Kristy got a little red and nodded. "You're not exactly in a position to complain. It could always be worse, couldn't it?" Kristy nodded again as her bottom lip pushed out. "Yeah," I said. "I get a wish because you were bad and not me." The lady turned to me. "Don?t be so quick to congratulate yourself, muffin. You should count your blessings and be careful. You can only wish to be different and ?different? can mean a lot of things. I won?t guarantee you?ll like the results and, once you make the wish, there?s no going back." She looked at both of us. "You two should be happy with what you have. I really didn?t intend this as a punishment, you know. Someday you?ll both have a chance to do something very meaningful. You might even help save the world." Mommy, who?d been very quiet and still, suddenly said, "What were you talking about just now?" The lady stood up and said, "Just telling the girls to be good." As we climbed into the car, I thought hard about whether I should make the wish or not. While we drove out of the parking lot, I decided it might be better not to risk it, not if I couldn?t undo it. "What would you girls like for dinner," said Mommy, "spaghetti or macaroni?" Kristy said, "Macaroni!" "Yeah," I said. "Macaroni is the best," said Kristy. "Yeah," I said. "The best." Macaroni was the best even if I used to like spaghetti. We pulled into the driveway of a blue house with white trim. We were home. Kristy pointed at the SUV parked in the driveway next to us and said, "Look, Daddy?s home!" Daddy was home! The front door opened and Daddy stepped out. We jumped out of the car and ran to him shouting, "Daddy! Daddy!" He crouched down so we could hug him and tell him all about our day at the beach and the pretty things we had bought. Daddy shook his head. "You two sure love pink." "Yes," we said. We loved pink more than anything. "You two go play now," said Mommy. We ran to the back yard. I looked at the swings and Kristy said, "Let?s play in the sandbox." We wanted to play in the sandbox. We ran over and opened the little door in the screen barrier Daddy had made to keep the neighborhood cats from messing in it and started to work on a smaller version of the sandcastle we?d made at the beach. I thought hard about how I liked everything Kristy liked. Then I thought that if I was going to get a pet it would be a dog like the pretty orange one we had seen at the beach. I said to Kristy, "What kinda pet is best?" "A kitty!" she said. "Yeah," I said. I realized that kitties really were the best. As we dug some more, I thought more. I was about to ask Kristy if I could decide something when I suddenly wanted to go to the slide. "Let?s go slide," said Kristy. We ran over to the slide and Kristy went first. We loved to slide. After Kristy slide down for the third time, I eagerly climbed up for my turn. Then Kristy said, "Let?s swing now!" "Yeah! Let?s swing!" We wanted to swing, so I climbed down. We wanted Kristy to have the nicer swing. We swung really high. We love swinging. My swing had almost gotten as high as Kristy?s when she said, "Let?s play princess!" "Yes! Princess!" We stopped swinging. Kristy was the princess and I was her lady in waiting because that?s what we wanted. We had a lot of fun and I was thinking about having a turn being the princess when Kristy said, "Let?s play with our Barbies!" "Yes! Barbies!" I said. We didn?t care about playing princess anymore. We had new Barbies to play with. As we ran through the back door and into the kitchen, Mommy said, "I have some cookies for you." She held out a tray of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. We love chocolate chip cookies. As we eagerly reached for a cookie, Mommy said, "Only one. You don?t want to ruin your supper." As we headed for our bedroom, Kristy got half of my cookie because we wanted her to have it. Our bedroom had a single double bed with pink sheets and our Barbies were sitting on it. We pulled them out of the bag. One was blonde, like us, and the other was her brunette friend. Kristy got the blonde one because that?s what we wanted. As Kristy pulled hers out of its box, she said, "We need the case so we can change their clothes." I dropped my half-opened box and eagerly ran to the closet because I wanted to get it. As I pulled out the pink carrying case that held our old Barbies and all their clothes, I forced myself to make a decision before I forgot that I could. I whispered, "I wish Kristy and me could be different." The words seemed... ...seem filled with power, even as they come out of my mouth, making me shiver. I don?t feel any different as I try out various outfits on my new Barbie. A few minutes later we get up to compare our Barbie?s outfits. Mine is wearing a pink miniskirt and hers has a purple ball gown on. That?s when I notice that Kristy is taller than me. "How old are you?" I ask. I know I?m seven. "Nine, of course." Then she seems to think of something and looks at me. "You made the wish, didn?t you?" "Yeah," I say. "Why? Didn?t you like being twins?" "No!" "Why not?" "Because... um... I wanted to... um..." She frowns. "Well?" "I dunno." She shakes her head. "Maybe it?s just as well. Now I get to be older than you. I look up at her and say, "I don?t care that you getta be older. I?m six. I can read." She laughs. "Well, I?m ten and I can read bigger books that you." "Cannot!" She towers over me and says, "I can read books with no pictures." I stand on my tiptoes, trying to make myself big, but I know she?s right. "Come on, squirt," she says, "let?s play with the dolls some more." We put new outfits on our Barbies. Kristy helps me because it?s hard. I try some more pretty pink outfits while Kristy puts some more purple ones on hers. "Hawcum you put a puwple dwess on hew? Dun you like pink anymow?" I ask. "Pink?s okay," says Kristy, "but purple?s better." I?m happy because we really are different. I feel a little jealous that Kristy gets to be bigger but I?m happy to be different. I?m five and Kristy?s a great big dumb eleven-year-old. We play dolls some more and then Kristy gives me hers. "Here you go, squirt. Knock yourself out." "Duncha wanna play wiff me anymow?" I ask. She stands up and sits on the bed, "Nah. I?m bored." She has boobs but they?re not as big as Mommy?s. She?s really tall. I think hard about this and push my stomach out because I?m big too. I plop down and play some more with my Barbie dolls. I?m happy because I get to play with the blonde one. I make them dance and talk to each other about clothes. Then I take their clothes off and make them dance naked and laugh because it?s funny because they?re naked. Kristy stands up. She looks so big and grown-up. "I think I?ll go to my room and listen to some music until dinner." I get up. I have nicer clothes than she does because I have a princess dress and she just has jeans and a purple T-shirt with words on it. "But I got lotsa toys," I say. She looks down at me. She has makeup on her face. "Playing with a three-year-old is too basic. Mom ain?t paying me to babysit." I want to cry because she?s mean. I don?t because I?m a big girl. I stick my tongue out as she leaves. I sit on the floor next to my crib to play more with my dolls. I put the Barbies down because it?s too hard to put clothes on them. I get my baby dolly. I rock it to sleep. I sing, "Seep ba-ba. ni-ni." I don?t see Mommy. I want Mommy. I am about to cry for Mommy when a flood of complicated thoughts and memories fill my head. I remember everything. I look around in confusion as I think about my situation. Chris Heidecker and I were at the beach yesterday looking for some girls to pick up when he vandalized that gift shop and now things have gone completely off the rails, weirder than an episode of The Twilight Zone. I look down at my pudgy little hands with their dimpled knuckles, so strange and yet so familiar. I?m hardly more than a baby. I still have little Misty Sweet?s memories, which isn?t saying much. She is... how old? A memory comes to me of Mommy saying, "aiteen moths." That can?t be right. It must be "eighteen months." Holy shit! This is insane. Am I on some kind of acid trip or maybe mescaline or peyote? I feel the pink dress I?m wearing. The stiff flaring skirt is more like a tutu. Then I feel the soft plastic-wrapped padding surrounding my nether regions. A diaper. I glance around bedroom which looks gigantic. The crib seems as big as a house. This feels awfully real for a drug-induced vision. I feel inside my little mouth with my tongue. I have a full complement of front teeth, but I only have a few molars starting to break through. How am I supposed to chew? A pink framed mirror is mounted on the far wall. It looks like a long walk and I set out towards it on my little bare feet. My waddling walk feels odd with the diaper stuffed between my legs. When I reach the mirror, I stare into the bottom part of it. Looking back at me is a tiny, extremely cute blonde-haired girl in the process of passing from babyhood to toddlerhood. My fine, silky hair is tied up in a pink bow that matches my dress. I know that I should be screaming in terror, but I can?t summon the emotion. I love my pink bow and pretty dress. I feel completely normal. This is my room and the little girl in the mirror is me because that?s what I look like. "Mitch?" comes an older girl?s voice behind me. I turn around and see Kristy... Chris standing in the doorway. She is spectacular. A teenaged version of Mommy, which is to say Marilyn Sweet. The family resemblance is unmistakable. I should be getting turned on at the sight of this blonde goddess but, of course, I have neither the body nor the brain for that. Instead, I feel on overwhelming desire to be just like her. I stare for a moment and finally say, "Yeah, it?s me. I take it dat... that you we.. remember evewything too." My squeaky little voice should be shocking to me but instead seems right. Still, talking feels a bit tricky. She strides into the room, drops to her knees and puts her arms around me which feels so comfy and safe. "Holy shit Mitch! You should?ve quit when you were ahead and not made that wish." "Yeah. I kinda figured that out," I carefully enunciate. Speaking correctly is hard work. She lets her arms fall as she looked around. "I guess this is the nursery. I have a room down the hall. It?s the perfect little nook for a teenage girl. I?m fifteen, by the way. Exactly fifteen and a half, just like you?re a year and a half now." "How do you know how ood I am?" I peep. She smiles. "Because I have fifteen years? worth of Kristy?s memories. I?ve got a whole other life now. It?s so totally dope! It?s like I?m, no cap, like totally a-list now. I?ve got tons of guys texting me, begging me to go out with them. I?ve been curving them so far but, TBH, there?s a couple of them I?d love to Netflix ?n Chill with. I don?t, like, mean to flex or anything but I have the tightest fam in the world!" I shake my little head and squeak, "I don?t have a lot of new stuff to remember myself and I don?t even undewstand half of what you jus said." She chuckles. "I, like, totally get it. I can?t remember anything from when I was your age in either of my lives. I totally feel like I?m, like... half Chris and half Kristy but more Kristy because I?m in this totally lit bod." I struggle with irresistible tears as I choke out, "Dun say yow age! I mabe wittow... littow now but um weawy... wealy a tweny-fow-yew-od maaaaaa..." I?m blinded with tears as my little body shakes and my arms wave as I bawl my little lungs out. Kristy hugs me. "It?s okay, sweetheart," she says in a high, sweet voice that?s strangely comforting, "I?m not sure what you just said but it?s okay." A voice comes from behind us. "She?s saying she still thinks of herself as a twenty-four-year-old man. At least she wants to, but she really isn?t anymore." We turn and see the blonde Barbie with her thin arms crossed in front of her, standing by the crib wearing jeans, a tie-dyed t-shirt, a headband and a pair of sandals on her dainty little feet. She is even wearing a tiny peace-sign necklace. She looks like she stepped out of a Pixar movie. "Well," she says, "you two seem to be settling in. Groovy." That blank face has taken on an expressive smirk. I jump from Kristy?s lap and charge at her in a flailing baby run. "You done dis ta us! You tuwn me inta a ba-bee!" I grab her and fling her against a wall. The doll clatters to the floor like the piece of plastic it is, gets up, brushes itself off and looks at me with its hands on its hips. "Are you done now muffin?" Through my tears I manage to say, "I am too gwon-up. Yow jussa mean piece a sit! I mean sit! Sit!" The Barbie looks at me with disapproval. "There will be no more swearing for you little lady." Kristy comes up and kneeled next to me. "Can you blame her? You reduced her to barely more than an infant." "She didn?t need to make that wish." The Barbie looks me. "Didn?t I warn you about what might happen?" All I can do was stand with my tear-streaked face all scrunched up. This is embarrassing. "I?m not complaining about my situation," says Kristy. "As far as I?m concerned this is the GOAT, but does Misty... I mean Mitch, have to be so little?" A small white rectangle, like a tablet, appears in the doll?s hand and she looks at it for a moment and then back at us. "I?ve run the numbers and there?s only two choices: you can either be eight-year-old twins, identical in every way, or you can be exactly fourteen years apart. You still have the same birthday, you know. It?s part of the equation." "Couldn?t you make us older?" says Kristy. The doll?s head shakes. "No can do. I could make you both younger, but I doubt either of you would dig that, would you?" A wicked grin appears on the Barbie?s face. "No!" I shout. "No, no, no! No!" "I don?t suppose restoring us to our old selves is an option," says Kristy. Again, the doll shakes its head. "That catamaran has sailed off into the sunset. Besides, you may not be grooving on it now, but I just did you both a solid. You two were a couple of third-rate pickup artists who still did your share of damage. Now that Kristy and Misty are in the world, neither Christopher Heidecker nor Mitchell Erickson were ever born. They won?t be missed and the damage they did never happened." I say, "We dida do any damage. We jus dated some guwls." I know I had sex with some women, but I can?t seem to recall what that is. I think it involves cuddling. I remember that I liked it. "We didn?t do that much harm," says Kristy, "did we?" "It?s the butterfly effect," says the Barbie. "The ripples were spreading through the world creating other ripples. You can?t imagine the harm one small act can do. There?s a ninety percent probability you both would?ve been stone-cold dead within a year." "Dead?" says Kristy with a gasp. "Me and Misty, I mean Mitch, were just showing some ladies a good time..." I felt her arms stiffened. "Ew! We were, like, totally creepy and gross!" The doll grins. "You both were that, but you?re also worth salvaging. I have some former pickup artists in my fish tank at home that weren?t. They make far better goldfish than people. "How waw we gonna die?" I pipe up. "You?re not going to now, but your old selves were heading down a perilous road with some dangerous people in your path. I can think of a lot of ways losers like that could end up in the ground. Wouldn?t you rather be a baby?" "No!" I stomp my foot. "I take dat wish back. Make us twins ?gain. I dun caow about bein? diffwent anymow. I would wathew be idenical dan a baby." The doll shakes its head. "Remember what I told you. You made your choice. There ain?t no flaking on it now." I clench my chubby little fists and take a step toward the doll. "Not faow! Dis is a skwoo job." "There's no sense freaking about it now," says the doll. "I know this is way out for you but there?s a war coming. The very existence of this world and its may parallels are at stake. This town, this beach is a focal point in that war. I?ve been given the job of prepping the ground. It's all set to hit the fan a few decades." "Why are you telling us this?" asks Kristy. "Because you'll be needed. You?ve both always had it in you, but you were misdirected. I?ve set you back on course, put you where you need to be. I may not be handy when your memories return. You?ll dig it when the time comes." "When our memowies wet... return? What is dat aposta mean?" I ask. A lopsided smile appears on the doll?s face. "You don?t expect to live your whole life with two separate identities, do you?" "Aw you saying I hafta fowget evewyting?" I squeak. "Not everything. You?ll still have little Misty?s memories." "But dat?s hawdly anyting! It?s no faow dat I hafta be a ba-bee whiwe Kwisty gets ta be all gwon up. Um not da one who bwoke dat window! I didin spway paint any bad wowd!" Kristy puts her arms around me and says, "You?re wasting your breath, Mini-Mitch. I think she?s blown this pop-stand." The doll has dropped over on its side and its face is blank again, though it still has the hippie outfit on, including the tiny peace-sign necklace. An unstoppable tide of emotion washed through me and I squeal, "No! No, no, no, no, no!" I stamp my feet. "No, no, no, no, no, no, nooooowaaaaaw!" Kristy holds me as I bawl like the baby I am. After I have cried myself out, I say in a tiny voice, "No faow. No, no, no." Kristy hugs me tight and says, "Let?s just try to make the best of this." She wipes my tears as I say as carefully as I can, "Dats... That?s easy for you to say. You?re practically a grown up." "Wow," says Kristy, "you, like, nailed every word of that. I?m totally impressed." "That?s because I am not a baby. I?m still the same Mitch Erickson inside dat... that I always was. If we have been wecwu... recruited for some mission to save the world, I?m gonna be weady." I?ll show that hippie chick. Kristy gives me a radiant smile and says, "You betcha! So, what you want to do now?" I look around the little girl?s room we?re in. The crib stands against one wall. Some colorful plastic blocks and other toys, mostly dolls, are scattered about different parts of the floor along with the Barbies and their clothes. A little plastic table and chair sits against another wall with crayons and a coloring book on it. What do I do now? I turn to Kristy and say, "Hug me more." "Aw," says Kristy, "you?re just sooo cute." She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me and I let myself melt into it. I?m aware of her breasts pressing against me and it awakes an odd longing. I?m starting to feel hungry. When she finally releases me, I say, "I guess it must be almost dinner time." I rub my tummy. "I?m hungwy... hungry." She pulls a sparkly phone out of a pretty little purple purse hanging from a thin strap on her shoulder and looks at it. "Yeah, I guess in about an hour." I rub my tummy more. That sounds like forever. Suddenly, Kristy grins widely and says, "No way!" "What is it?" I say. "No cap, Jenna just got asked out by Josh Wilson! He?s, like, only one of the coolest guys at school. This is so lit." She starts typing furiously on her phone. I look around for something to do while I wait for dinner, something to stimulate my mind, keep it sharp and not think about food. I soon find myself sitting at the little table looking through the coloring book. Some of the pages are just scribbled on with no rhyme or reason to the colors. I grab a crayon and try coloring in the lines on a picture of a bunny. I never noticed before how amazing cute bunnies are. Staying inside the lines is really hard. When I am done, I have made the bunny pink with a blue belly and purple carrots. I also colored her eyes yellow. I mostly stayed in the lines, but it was really hard. Why is it so hard? I need to boost my confidence. I stand up and study my chubby little body. I may look like a baby, but I still know basic anatomy. I look between my legs. I know I?m different down there. I used to have a pee-pee but now I have a foo-foo. My memory is still sharp. I go over to some blocks that are in different shapes with holes in them so that they can be dropped onto wooden posts on a wooden base. I drop the round ones onto the one post because they have one hole. Next, I drop the rectangle shaped ones onto the two posts together because they have two holes. Next, I drop the triangle shaped ones onto the three posts together because they have three holes. Next, I drop the square ones onto the four posts together because they have four holes. I can?t believe how fun and exciting this is. The blocks are in different colors too. There are red ones and blue ones and green ones and yellow ones. This will keep my mind sharp! I pull the blocks off and pile them again. It?s trilling because I can pile the colors in different ways. Maybe being a baby won?t so bad. I look over at Kristy. She?s still thumb-typing on her phone. She almost looks hypnotized. She has fifteen years? worth of new memories on top of her old ones and the teenager seems to be winning. Maybe it?s good that I don?t have so many Misty-memories. Mommy comes to the door and says its dinner time. Kristy looks annoyed but I?m happy because I?m hungry and I'm really excited to see Mommy. I love her so much! I stand up and hold out my arms. I need her to pick me up and she does! I?m so happy! I feel her soft breasts against me and put my thumb in my mouth and suck as fast as I can. Mommy carries me to the kitchen. I wrap my legs and free arm as far as I can around her. I never want to let go. I guess I might as well be a baby for now. I?m too content to bother to show Mommy how smart I am. I can see the headlines now, though: GENIUS TODDLER CONFOUNDS SCIENTISTS. That would be fun. Mommy puts me into a highchair with a plastic tray-table in front of me. I don?t like it, but I have to stay here if I want to get something to eat. Mommy, Daddy, and Kristy gather around the table. I love them. I may not have a lot of baby memories, but my baby feelings are so overwhelming and wonderful that I don't want to fight it. I just feel so much. I need to be careful so I can keep thinking clearly. I get a bowl of macaroni and a spoon. I try to use the spoon, but it?s too hard. I give up and push macaroni into my mouth with my hands. I don?t care that I?m getting it all over the place. If I have to be so little at least I don?t have to worry about being neat. Most of it ends up everywhere but in my stomach and I feel a longing inside me. I want something. Without thinking, I say, "Mik, Ma-ma, mik!" That?s it! I want milk. Mommy needs to give me milk. Mommy gets up and, instead of getting me a cup, she pulls me out of the highchair, carries me to the living room and sits down on the couch. I snuggle up against her because it feels good and I love her. She unbuttons her shirt, opens her bra, exposing a breast, and lifts me toward it. I eagerly latch onto the nipple and suck. Warm milk flows into me. This feels so good and I?m so happy to be little right now. Grown-up me can?t have ever felt anything this good. When I?m full and feel warm and fuzzy, Mommy carries me into the kitchen where Daddy and Kristy are cleaning up. My diaper is mushy and yucky. I must have gone poopy while I was drinking warm happiness. I don?t like poopy, so I cry because I don?t like it. Mommy holds me out to Kristy and shouts over my crying, "She needs a change. It?s your turn." "Aw Mom, do I have to?" "Yes." says Mommy. She doesn?t need to shout so loud because I know I?m going to get changed. "If I have to put up with a teenage daughter, I might as well put her to work." Her and Daddy chuckle as Kristy takes me. I?m happy now because I?m getting changed. Being a baby is fun, but I don?t like poopy diapers. Kristy carries me back into the living room and pulls a clean diaper from a box. "Mommy gave me mik and it was da bes ting evew!" I can still talk good. Kristy lays me down on the couch. "Glad to hear it, squirt." She takes off my diaper and cleans my bum with a wet wipe and says, "Ew, yuck!" I giggle because it funny. She powders my bum and I feel the clean diaper fit snuggly on my bottom. That feels nice. When I get up, I see that she?s typing on her phone again. I climb onto her lap and look at the screen. There are little words in colored bubbles on it. If I think hard, I can read them but it?s dif... hard and I don?t like that. Besides, it?s full of funny words that don?t make sense like lol, gr8, imho, and 53x. I giggle because it?s funny. "Quiet, squirt," says Kristy. "This is important. Jenna is totally spilling the tea." "So yow not gonna fight it?" I say. "Yow just gonna be a teenage guwl?" She lifts me up and puts me down on the couch so she can look at my face and says, "I don?t want to fight it anymore. Old me feels less real all the time. Besides, he was a total perv. I can?t even remember his name anymore. I might as well admit it. This is who I really am now." "You don?t wemembew yow old name?" "Can you?" I concen... think and then I say, "No, but um still gwown-up on da inside." She smiles. "Really? Are you sure?" "Absolu... abs... yes." Her smile widens. "Okay." Her tone suddenly gets high and sweet, "Where?s your nose?" Without thinking, I smile and touch my nose. "Yes. Good girl! Where?s your tummy? Show me your tummy." I burst with joy and pat my tummy. "Yes! Good girl! You?re so smart!" I am so happy, I shake. I desp... really want her to do it again. Her tone changes. "See what I mean?" "What?" "Dat... that?s jus cus you surpwised me. Am too gwown-up! Do again!" I really want her to do it again. "Not now, squirt." She turns back to her phone and starts hitting it with her thumbs some more. I sit. I?m mad. How come won?t she do it again? If she does it more, I can show her I?m grown up. She squeals as she stares at her phone. I climb up and look but I can?t understand the words in the bubbles. This is boring. Stupid words in bubbles! I sit down on the couch and frown hard. Kristy won?t look at me. I frown harder. Kristy still won?t look at me. I'm bored! I climb off the couch and run to the kitchen. Maybe Mommy and Daddy will play with me. They are putting dishes away. I hug Mommy's leg and she looks down and smiles at me. I?m happy now. I smile. In a sweet voice, Mommy says, "All cleaned up, sweetheart?" I nod. I want to tell her I?m mad at Kristy because she looks at her phone not at me, but Mommy-joy makes it hard to talk. "Kisty bad! Bad!" Mommy turns and talks to Daddy. I want her to pick me up. I raise my arms and say, "Up Ma-ma. Up!" Talking to Mommy is hard because she makes me too joy-joy. "Not now," says Mommy, "Mommy's busy." I?m mad. I want to cry and stamp my feet. An itty-bitty voice in my head is saying, "That's not grown up." I run to my room and cry and stamp my feet. Then I lay down on my back and kick and cry some more. Then I sit up and cry some more. Why won?t anyone play with me? I'm finished crying. I get happy because I was real smart to run to my room. I'm still big inside! I?m not a baby. My diaper is warm and wet because I went wee-wee. I don't care because I'm smart. I?m a big girl! I color some more. I take a crayon and scribble in my coloring book. I have fun, so I color another picture. I don?t know why it was hard before. I play with my dolls. I get my baby doll and pretend to feed it like Mama does. I pretend to change the diaper. I?m still smart like a big person. I?m a good Mama. Kristy comes in. "Kisty!" I say. She says, "How?s it going, squirt? Still endevering to remane udult on the inside?" Why is she using hard words? I stick out my tummy and say, "Um big!" "Yes," says Kristy, "such a big smart girl!" I giggle for happy and show my doll. "Ba-bee, Kisty. Ba-bee." I talk good. Kristy makes a sad face. "Yeah. I didn?t figyer you cood fite it for long. The younivers is kraazyer and straanjer than I ever imajined." I need to tell her I?m okay. I?m still me. I say, "O-kee, Kisty. O-kee." I show my doll. "Ba-bee, Kisty. Ba-bee." Kristy takes my doll and hugs it. She?s happy now. I?m smart. We play dolls. I?m happy. I?m smart. Scary lady can?t make me a baby. I?m still me. Kristy picks me up high. I scream and laugh. Kristy hugs me. I hug her. I love Kristy. "Woe,? says Kristy. "Looks like somwun needs a new diaper alredee." I giggle. "Wee-wee! Didee, Kisty!" "I gess you got your wish, skwirt," says Kristy. "We?re definatly diferant." Kristy is smart. I love Kristy. "Wove u, Kisty," I say. I?m smart. I?m a big girl. "Love you too, skwirt."