“Who are you? Where am I?” the girl demanded—and I do mean demanded—in a hard, certain tone—very un-little girl-like.
I was taken aback by her unexpected heat—not to mention the unpleasant sight of a 9 year-old girl towering over me—and didn’t answer.
“Wait …” You could see it was coming back to her now. “You must be that man, who rescued me last night.”
“I was a man, last night,” I said, rather pointedly.
She smiled slightly—very slightly. “Yes, I can see you’ve had an accident. Most unfortunate. Puts us in the same boat, I should think.”
“Oh, so you were an adult, too?” Made sense; she didn’t speak at all like a child.
“Indeed.” She took the sides of her oversized shirt and performed a mock curtsy. “Dr. Laurel Stone, at your service.” She waved her hand over her body. “Sorry I
don’t look more presentable at the moment.”
She seemed to have a slight English accent. I processed this information, and her name, rather automatically; I was still somewhat in shock. This was all so unreal, and
happening so fast.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I really was last night, but, what with being changed into this … this child, and the fire, and everything, I was panicked, and not thinking
clearly. I wasn’t sure you’d believe me—and if you did, I was afraid that you’d … well, that you’d try to steal the device.”
“The … device?” Abruptly I remembered the little remote-thing that had been in her hand when I put her to bed, that I had fiddled with. “So you knew that it was
dangerous,” I said, trying to keep my temper in check. After all, even though she was only nine physically, she was still a lot bigger than me now that I was stuck in a
three year-old’s body.
She didn’t get angry, though; she winced. “Yes, I did. I-I wasn’t thinking straight, I was just so panicked and frightened. I was too afraid to tell you the truth, and I was
too terrified to think of the dangers to you. Forgive me; you saved my life. This is a poor repayment.”
“That … thing, can change me back, right? Right?!” A note of panic, and desperation, entered my voice. I was stuck in what was practically a baby’s body. I didn’t
fancy spending the next 20 years growing up again—potty training, puberty, no driving, no alcohol …
No women—unless they were interested in babysitting …
“Well, hopefully,” the little girl—Dr. Laurel Stone—said.
“Hopefully? Hopefully?!” I realized I was losing control—but I couldn’t help it. I had shrunk, and every second that passed was a struggle not to panic; it didn’t take
much to push me over the edge.
“The controller was damaged, you see,” Laurel explained.
I remembered, now; part of the device had been fused. So, I could shrink myself into a little kid, but the part that was supposed to change me back was probably
broken?
“Well, this just keeps getting better and better,” I muttered to myself. Aloud, I said, “Look, Laurel—er, Miz Stone … ah, Miss? Mrs.?”
“Miss,” she corrected me. “But you can call me Laurel if you want,” she added. Motioning toward her child’s body, clad only in an over-shirt, she pointed out, “The
only ‘Miss’ I look like at the moment is a ‘Little Miss.’ “ She started looking around. “Where did you put the control?”
“Uhhh … somewhere around here,” I said, looking around the room as well.
She glared at me. “Somewhere?”
I felt foolish—and rather defensive. “Well, I’m sorry; perhaps if I’d known that it was important …”
She sighed, and raked her hands through her hair. “Forget it. Just help me find it.”
We both started digging through the blankets and clothing scattered around the room. A thought occurred to me. “Just for my peace of mind, what exactly happened,
that you got stuck like this, and that fire burned down your place?”