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Katherine clutched in his arms.
    This was Jonah’s mom.
    Only somehow she’d turned back into a kid again.

FIVE
    â€œWhat just happened?” kid Mom groaned. “Why do I feel like . . . like . . .”
    Jonah put his hand on her shoulder.
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” he told her. “You’re just . . . sick. Yeah, that’s it. You have a very high fever, so you’re imagining things.”
    He was proud of himself for coming up with that explanation so quickly. But kid Mom narrowed her eyes at him.
    â€œDon’t you lie to me, Jonah Skidmore,” she said, and even though she still looked like Katherine—and about Katherine’s age—at least now she sounded more like herself. Or like she was trying to sound like herself. She winced. “I remember now. I have a thirteen-year-old son named Jonah and an eleven-year-old daughter named Katherine. I was getting them ready for school. Why doI feel like I should be going to school myself right now? And like . . . like maybe I should only be in seventh grade?”
    Seventh grade like me? Jonah thought. Not sixth, like Katherine?
    He wasn’t sure what that meant. He didn’t know what to say, anyway, so he didn’t answer.
    Kid Mom flashed him a look that seemed to be a mix of Katherine’s my brother is so annoying expression and normal, adult Mom’s Jonah, I’m disappointed in you stern gaze. She gave a little snort that sounded exactly like Katherine when Katherine was about to say something like, Well, if you can’t handle this, I’ll take care of it myself! Then she started to stand up.
    Her clothes fell down. Her silky red sweater slipped down on her shoulder, and she had to hold on to the waistband of her black pants to keep them from sliding into a heap on the floor.
    â€œWhat?” she exclaimed. “These are my tight pants!”
    Jonah realized she was still wearing the same clothes she’d had on ten minutes ago when she was regular, normal, adult Mom. Now that she was roughly the same size as Katherine—give or take a few inches and pounds—the clothes seemed clownishly huge.
    â€œUm, maybe you should go upstairs and change?” Jonah suggested. “Maybe you could borrow something from Katherine’s closet?”
    Kid Mom shot him another annoyed look.
    â€œJust where is Katherine, exactly?” she asked suspiciously.
    Jonah was saved from having to answer that because suddenly there was a burst of laughter out in the hall.
    Another kid raced into the kitchen—a boy with wild, untamable-looking hair and crooked teeth and what appeared to be the beginnings of a monstrous zit on his nose. He was wearing jeans and an Ohio State T-shirt that Jonah was pretty sure had been hanging in his own closet earlier this morning.
    â€œI am having the best dream ever!” the boy exclaimed, practically bouncing up and down. He dashed over to Jonah and threw his arm around Jonah’s shoulder. “Hey, old buddy, old pal. I don’t know how long this is going to last, but it’s like I’m your age again. Thirteen! Whoo-hoo! What do you say we go out in the yard and throw the old pigskin around?”
    Jonah was too stunned to speak.
    â€œWhat’s wrong—you scared I’ll beat you, now that I don’t have to worry about creaky knees?” the boy asked. “Or would you rather play soccer? You pick the sport—I’ll take you on! Chal-lenge!”
    The boy began dancing around in what Jonah guessed were supposed to be amazing soccer moves.
    â€œAre you . . . ?” kid Mom started to ask, her tone a mix of astonishment and horror.
    The boy stopped dancing and leaned in conspiratorially toward Jonah.
    â€œI’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “I’m married! I’m thirteen years old, and I’m married. Isn’t that crazy?” He started giggling and