An Embarrassing Turn of Events

"Well, this here's another fine mess you've got me into," said the boy.

He looked perhaps thirteen, dark-haired and gangly, with a bit of fuzz that was trying its pathetic best to be a beard but falling tragically short. His shirt and trousers were both rather too big, and he was holding them up as best he could with one hand while the other pushed back the bandanna that was slipping down over his eyes. He was trying to look intimidating, but skinny pubescent boys simply aren't, and with his oversize clothing the whole effect was just ridiculous.

The girl glaring back at him was about the same age but nearly a foot shorter, with wavy brown hair and some tenacious baby fat. She was absolutely drowning in a men's coat that was dragging in the sand around her feet, and her shirt hung to her knees. Nevertheless, she somehow managed to look fiercer than her opponent, perhaps because it would have been hard not to.

Both were also dripping wet.

"Me?" the girl asked, one eyebrow arched.

"You heard me, love," said the boy.

To think, looking for the Fountain of Youth had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Apparently there'd been some problem with the required dose. Or maybe the Fountain simply set you back to a certain age no matter how much you drank or how old you were to start with, and whatever supernatural entity was behind it was just sadistic enough that the age in question was the most awkward part of adolescence. Jack Sparrow didn't know and honestly didn't care, but this had definitely not been the desired result.