Drew and Jared were two 17-year-old high school juniors with big dreams, questionable facial hair, and one very unusual advantage: Drew had alien powers. Not the boring kind like telekinesis or glowing eyes—no, Drew could transform *anything* about his best friend Jared. Height, age, voice, even his GPA (though sadly, not permanently).
One sunny afternoon, the boys found themselves walking past the prestigious Westfield University campus, drawn by the siren call of its massive library—a place rumored to have air conditioning, high-speed computers, and vending machines that accepted Apple Pay.
“I bet they have chairs that don’t squeak,” Jared said wistfully.
“And keyboards that don’t smell like cafeteria mystery meat,” Drew added.
They approached the entrance, only to be stopped by a security guard who looked like he’d been trained by the Secret Service and had a personal vendetta against teenagers.
“Student ID?” the guard asked, arms crossed.
Jared blinked. “Uh… we’re just here to—”
“No ID, no entry,” the guard said, pointing to a sign that read *“Students Only. No Exceptions.”*
Drew turned to Jared with a mischievous grin. “Time for a glow-up.”
Before Jared could protest, Drew snapped his fingers. In an instant, Jared transformed from a lanky 17-year-old into a *tall, athletic, chisel-jawed 22-year-old college heartthrob*. His hoodie morphed into a stylish Westfield University sweatshirt, and a shiny student ID appeared in his wallet like magic.
Jared looked down at his new biceps. “I HAVE VEINS. I HAVE *DEFINITION.* I LOOK LIKE I EAT PROTEIN ON PURPOSE.”
Drew, still very much 17, smirked. “You’re my cousin from out of town. I’m tagging along.”
They walked back to the entrance. Jared flashed his ID with the confidence of someone who’d just bench-pressed a textbook.
“Welcome back, Mr. Thompson,” the guard said, stepping aside.
Inside, the library was a paradise. Quiet, cool, and filled with the scent of old books and academic stress. Jared and Drew spent an hour browsing the internet, pretending to study, and Googling things like *“How to look smart in a library without actually reading.”*
Jared even got a few admiring glances from actual college students, one of whom asked if he was on the swim team.
“I dabble,” Jared said, flexing subtly.
When they finally left, Drew snapped his fingers again, and Jared shrank back to his regular 17-year-old self—hoodie, sneakers, and all.
Jared looked at his reflection in a campus window and grinned. “So that’s me in five years, huh?”
“Yep,” Drew said. “You’re gonna be a snack.”
Jared nodded. “I’m gonna start doing push-ups. Like, *today.*”
Drew laughed. “Just don’t ask me to give you abs every time you want to impress someone.”
Jared winked. “No promises.”
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