Mark Stephens was wonderfully excited. School was out for the summer, and he could do anything he pleased. What was even more, and better, he could just do nothing, if he wanted to. And early that summer, one day while was carefully doing exactly nothing, he found the apple tree.
It was a giant of an old tree, with roots that stretched out across the field, and, the real temptation to the 15 year old boy, apples. It seemed a little early in the season, but apples like these were not to be questioned at any time. Large, shiny, perfectly red...his mouth had started watering at the very sight of them. Now he approached the tree, grabbed one easily withing his reach and took a bite. It was heavenly. Sweet, but with a little tang; the aftertaste made him feel strangely invigorated. He'd only taken three bites of the wonderous fruit when he realized something.
He was late.
He ran down the hill and grabbed his bike, and pedaled full speed for home. The wind whipped at his t-shirt and shorts as he nearly flew back home over bike trails he knew well. He got home only five minutes late for lunch, and his mom didn't seem too angry. She had sighed when he arrived, and given him a look, but he'd had much worse in his time.
As they sat facing each other eating their lunch, she struck up the conversation. "Mark, you're going to have to learn how to get place on time. You'll be moving from class to class at the middle school, and they aren't very lenient."
"You mean High school, mom. I'll be at the High school, not middle school."
She smiled at him, "Oh, were you out dreaming on the hills again? Sorry, buddy boy, but 12 year olds have to go to the middle school before they get to go to high school."
"Ummm, mom, you're kinda weirding me out. I'm 15"
"You were in another world...maybe you need to splash some cold water on your face. Go on! I'm not going anywhere."
Mark went to the bathroom and looked at himself. At first nothing seemed wrong, but slowly he realized that everything was. The changes were subtle, but his facial features were softer and he was slightly shorter. Checking under his shirt, the hair under his armpits was gone, as was the slight amount of stubble he'd accumulated. He looked exactly like the twelve year old his mother seemed to think he was.
He ran to his room, which had changed as well. His plain sheets had been replaced by the cartoon ones he'd given up only a few years before, and the posters of rock stars were gone as well.
"Mark, are you daydreaming again?"
Hearing his mother's yell, he ran back down for lunch. Exploration could wait for later. He ate quickly, eager to find out what was going on.
After lunch, he ran out of the room, running back when his mother reminded him to put away his dishes. He went through his room, but everything was just as he remembered it being when he was twelve. His clothes, his toys. Even the poster he'd saved from freshman year had vanished from the drawer he'd stored it in.
Mark thought he should have been scared, or worried, but it was kind of cool. He'd been dreading returning to high school after his poor grades freshman year, but middle school might be kind of fun. He decided to make the best of the change.
First things first: find a friend to hang out with. He grabbed an old school directory from four years earlier, and discovered that he was listed in second grade. The fifth grade list, where he should have been, included all his old classmates, but his name had vanished. Picking a name at random, he called the boy, Fred, and invited him over.
Fred seemed to remember him, and they ended up biking around the hills until it got late. When Mark got back, his mother scolded him for staying out too late.
"Honestly, Mark. It's not safe to be biking out there after it gets dark."
"Sorry, mom. I guess I didn't notice how dark it had gotten."
"Well, I think maybe you shouldn't have any friends over for a few days, so you can practice noticing it get dark."
"Mom!"
"Next time maybe you'll pay more attention to the time."
"Mom! It's summer! Please?"
"Well...alright, I guess. But you have to be careful!"
"I know mom. I'm sorry."
"It's okay...I just don't want you to get hurt."
Figuring he shouldn't push his luck, he took a shower, then went to bed.
The next day was Friday, and he got up early, though after breakfast, which mom instsed he eat. He was fifteen again...no doubt about that...he had a high school ID, he was back where he belonged in the class roster. All he could think of was that it must have been the apple tree...nothing else made even a little sense. So he rode out there, and grabbed another apple. He looked at it, and then took a tentative bite. It tasted just as good, if not better, then it had yesterday. He pulled out his wallet, and found that he had his Middle School ID in there...and according to the birthdate on it, he was forteen!
Mark was no fool; one bite made him a year younger. Anyone could figure that out. And, if it only lasted a day... he remembered that it was going to be Saturday tomorrow. The perfect day for watching cartoons, especially if he was the right age. He grabbed another apple, put it in his pocket, and brought it back to his room to use in the morning. For today, however, he decided to try something more extreme.
He took another bite, and saw his room changed slightly. One more and it was the way it had been the day before. Four more bites in rapid succession, each one changing the room as objects moved and decorations changed. Getting nervous, he paused to chew, and then, closing his eyes took another four bites. He didn't open his eyes until he'd chewed them all. He realized that he felt completely different. He was bursting with energy, and without even stopping to examine the vast changes to his room, ran downstairs.
"How about some play dough, kiddo."
And, to his surprise she picked him up and put him in a kitchen chair, where she'd already put a pile of play dough in front.
As she watched, he hesitantly picked up the play dough and started shaping it. He began to get into the act, and started making all sorts of things out of it, getting it all over himself and his clothes in the process. After a while, his mother said, "Okay Mark, we have to get ready for dinner. I'd better give you a bath while I clean this mess up." And she went over to pick him up.
Mark was enjoying the play dough, and didn't want to stop, especially for something as unpleasant as a bath. "Uh-uh! Don't wanna bath."
"I'm sorry Marky, but you need a bath. You've gotten all dirty, and you need to get clean." And she grabbed him around his waist and lifted him.
Mark lost his temper, and without even thinking, bit his mother.
"Mark! No biting!" She grabbed him roughly by the sides, sat down, and spanked him several times. Mark found himself crying.
Once he was subdued, his mother took him upstairs, undressed him, and put him in the bath. Mark felt rediculous, a fifteen year old being bathed, his bottom sore and his eyes still red from crying.
After the bath he was given a quick dinner and sent right to bed.
The next morning, Mark woke up early, as he had planned. He bottom was still a little sore, a very unpleasant reminder of yesterday's incidents. He thought long and hard about the best age to watch cartoons, and settled on 7. He brought his other apple out of hiding, and took 3 quick bites and chewed them down. Then he decided to take things a little slower...this was where things would get fun. He walked to the bathroom, so he could watch things in the mirror. The first bite didn't seem to change him much. His nose might have been a little smaller, his freckles a bit darker, but nothing easy to see. He snuck back to his room, and didn't see many changes either; though his room was beginning to reflect his long time childhood interest in space, and astronauts. He snuck back to the mirror and took another bite. The changes were more dramatic this time. Definite pudginess was sneaking into his features, and the t-shirt and boxers he had slept in were now set of short-sleeved pajamas, featuring Sonic the Hedgehog. All the posters in his room were now devoted to moon, planets, and other astronomical phenomena. The bed now had brightly colored cartoon sheets.
Mark thought about going downstairs right then, but he really wanted to go further down. The next bite shrunk him a bit, and made the pajama shorts into pajama pants. On his bed there appeared a Tails plush. He grabbed it and set it on the counter so he could see what would happen to it. Another bite, and he felt like he needed two hands to hold the apple. His pajamas were all long sleeved now. Eight years old, he thought, just one more bite.
And that bite did it. Sonic vanished from the pajamas, the sheets, and everything. In its place was something new, and strangely appealing: Pokemon. The once cute Tails plush was now a Pikachu. And even though Mark felt too old for that whole Pokemon obsession, he could help cuddling the yellow fuzzball as he walked down the stairs.
While he didn't remember these particular cartoons, they were just as entertaining as the ones he did remember. He spent the entire morning in front of the televison, laughing at them, getting up only to pour a bowl of cereal. Finally, a little after noon, his mother walked in.
"Mark, why don't you play outside?"
"My cartoons are on!"
"You've watched enough for one day."
"But I'm in the middle of an episode."
"Alright. At twelve thirty, the tv goes off and you go outside."
"Fine." Mark wasn't thrilled, but at least she left him alone to finish that show.
At twelve thirty sharp, his mother came in and turned off the television. Mark went upstairs, changed into the clothes his mother had laid out for him, left Pikachu on the edge of his bed, and ran outside. He'd been running around for a couple of hours when his mother called for him.
"Mark, phone call!"
Mark ran back to the house and took the phone from her. "Hello?"
"Hey, Mark, it's Joey. I'm having a sleepover party tonight. You wanna come?"
"One sec. Mom, can I go to Joey's for a sleepover?" Mark wondered who Joey was.
"Sure. What time?"
"What time?"
"Six"
"Six"
"Okay. Tell him I'll drop you off at six."
"She's gonna take me there at six."
"Cool!"
Mark could barely wait until it was time to go. Finally, at five thirty, his mother fetched him.
"Mark, have you packed?"
"Um, no. I'll get my stuff."
He quickly grabbed his sleeping bag, threw a couple of toiletries into a bag, and told his mother he was ready. She drove him over to Joey's house, which she seemed to remember, even if he didn't.
Another boy besides Joey was already there, and three more arrived over the next fourty-five minutes. After a pizza dinner, they went outside for a game of cops and robbers until it got dark, at which point they came in to play with legos. The six of them ended up building two large, and increasinly elaborate, fleets of space ships, which faced off in a battle that left all but one shattered into pieces, and all of them once Mark destroyed the last one ("it hit a planet!").
They were then told to get ready for bed, at which point Mark discovered that he'd forgotten to pack any pajamas. Fortunately, Joey had an extra pair of Pikachu pajamas in about the right size, which Mark wore. The kids turned off the lights, but whispered and told jokes until they couldn't stay awake any longer.
The morning presented a number of problems for Mark. The first was that he was wearing a set of Pikachu pajamas that only barely fit, and looked absolutely rediculous on a fifteen year old. The second was that he was surrounded by five little kids, who he remembered having a sleepover with.
The other kids seemed a little uncomfortable with his presence, but they remembered playing with him the night before, even if they couldn't figure out why they'd been playing with someone so old. Joey's parents, came in and asked to talk to him.
"Um, Mark, we forgot to ask you last night, but, how do you know Joey?"
"From school."
"Right. Aren't you in the high school?"
"Yeah. But we were tutoring the younger kids, and that's how I met him." Mark thought quickly, trying to come up with a plausible story.
"I see. And why did you want to come to his sleepover?"
"I just thought it would be nice to get to know him better." Mark pulled at the overly tight pajamas, which Joey's parents had (thankfully) not mentioned.
"Okay. I guess that makes sense. And you all had a good time last night, right?"
"Yeah. But, I should probably be leaving."
Joey's mother nodded happily. "That's probably a good idea."
Mark changed back into his clothes and walked home.
The summer finally ended, and school returned. After weeks of playing with the apple tree, he hadn't seen his friends in a while, and spent much of the day offering excuses for not being around. Worried about getting behind, Mark had resolved not to use the apple tree on school days. Every day, Mark sat in class, bored, remembering how much fun he'd had that summer. After a week, he began bringing an apple with him to school, "just in case," he promised himself.
And then, one day, during a particularly dull math class, he saw a group of kindergarteners walking past the window to recess. Gathering his resolve, he got permission to go to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of the room, he ran down the stairs and out the door, biting the apple at the same time. By the time he reached the class, he'd taken ten bites, and joined the back of the line.
Recess was even more fun than he remembered, and he spent it running around, playing tag with his new friends. All too soon it was over, and they were called back. Mark got in line with the other kids, but had trouble standing still while the teacher counted all of them. It wasn't until he was threatened with a "time-out" that he finally stopped talking to the boy in front of him.
When they got back to the classroom it was nap time. Mark thought it was pretty silly, but he lay down and closed his eyes, and was surprised when the lights were flipped on only a moment later. He rubbed his eyes, sat up, and looked at the clock to figure out how long he'd slept. To his surprise, he couldn't make sense of it anymore, but after a moment he lost interest.
The rest of the day flew by, what with all the figerpainting, play dough, and stories. Mark soon went home both invoragted and tired. He played with a little more play-dough, but didn't object when mommy put him in the bathtub. He remembered the spanking far too well.
For another week, Mark survived his sophomore classes. But he soon got to the point he just coudn't bear it. Every day he saw some younger class outside, be it for recess or science, or a reward for good behavior. One morning he resolved to skip class in a way that wouldn't hurt him at all. He didn't want to hit kindergarten again. It felt too repetetive...and he had found out during the summer that being the same age several days in a row messed with his mind. Middle school was out of the question...it was a personal hell no one should ever be put through in Mark's opinion. But he could be at the top of the elementary school.
A trip to the tree and back and three bites later, Mark was pulling on briefs, jean cargo shorts and a cartoon t-shirt, as he got ready for sixth grade...all over again.
It was almost as good as being a kidnergartner, Mark thought. Sure he had to do real schoolwork, but 6th grade spelling wasn't hard. Recess was a blast, too. A pickup shirts and skins soccer game. At that age who cared if he came back in dirty, or sweaty? It didn't matter! He would have left his shirt off in class, but the teacher didn't seem to understand boy's fashion. Lunch was little more then a continuation of the earlier soccer game. In the afternoon, the class did math, and it was really hard. Mark could remember doing harder stuff, but not /how/ to do it. Or, for that matter /how/ to do this. But he had a good teacher, and by the time school let out, he was starting to get the hang of it.
After school they finished their soccer game, and he went home to play video games, interrupted occasionally by his mother's repeated prodding that he do his homework.
After that, Mark made it another week before temptation got the better of him. This time it wasn't so much the appeal of being younger as the fear of his own age which drove him: it was time for a math test. The morning of the test, Mark got out the apple he'd hidden and started chewing. For variety, he'd decided to visit Joey again. After seven bites he pulled on his Pokemon outfit, grabbed his back pack, and headed to school.
The day went quickly. The material was much simpler, but he still struggled with it, and was glad when recess came and he got to run around with his friends. When Joey invited him to another sleepover that weekend, his first thought was that it had been a problem the last time, but he couldn't remember why, and said sure.
The next morning, Mark pulled on a different Pikachu shirt without thinking. It wasn't until he arrived at class that he remembered he hadn't eaten an apple that morning.
Of course, the distracted him to no end...he couldn't sit still, and the teacher finally took him out in the hall to have a little chat. Mark "agreed" to be calmer, and in all fairness to him, he did try. That didn't stop him from flying out the door at the end of the day and running straight to the tree. One look explained everything. The tree was bare. Every leaf had fallen, every apple lay on the ground, soggy as they began to decompose. For a moment, Mark felt absolutely horrible at the sight of the apples rotting on the ground. Then he heard a sound behind him. It was Joey.
"Hey Joey! I bet we can hit a lot of girls with these!"
To be continued the next year?