Samantha couldn't remember ever being so small. The forest of people that crowded the street was frightening. Everyone was taller than her. Everyone except a young boy of about four or five that Sam noticed walking the other way on the sidewalk. As he passed with his father, he stared at Sam with wide, innocent eyes. It was strange for Sam to realize that she now belonged to that boy's peer group.
Even being led by her friend was incredibly odd. Tricia was behaving just like a family member, interested in the well-being of her "sister." Tricia brought Sam to a halt at intersections and looked both ways before carefully guiding Sam across the road. The cars looked monstrous. Sam could barely see over the hoods. She felt even smaller than she truly was. With every step her "sister" took, Sam had to take two or three.
After a couple blocks, which felt like five blocks to Samantha's tired young legs, Tricia led her into a clothing store. A clerk warmly greeted them and complimented Samantha. "You have a lovely sister," she said to Tricia. Yet another oddity: The adult spoke to Tricia, not Samantha. Had she been eighteen and looking "lovely," the clerk would have surely addressed her directly.
Tricia led Samantha over to the girls' section, and whispered to her that they'd have to pretend they were going to try out some clothes. Samantha understood, since it would probably seem odd that they would have gone directly to the changing rooms without taking anything off the racks. Tricia pulled out a blue sun dress.
"I don't think this would do you justice," she said softly, and Samantha had to agree. Tricia looked up to make sure they weren't being watched anymore. Samantha quietly wished she still had the ability to peer over the racks. All she could see were clothes left and right.
"Where's the changing room?" she whispered to Trish. Trish located it for her and led her there. She handed Samantha the ugly dress and Samantha went into a booth.
She locked the booth's latch and turned to face the wall mirror. The dress in her hand dropped to the floor when she beheld her reflection. It was even more astonishing than the image she had concocted in her mind. She stared into the eyes of a fair-faced little girl with a pretty school uniform and an incredible crown of hair that cascaded around her body. She looked so young, and for the first time she started to feel young. Before now she had concentrated on being small, and weak, and helpless, but suddenly she became aware of other things. Energy. Excitement. The ability to wonder at a brand new world. She rediscovered the imagination of a six-year-old, to whom everything was possible. Life experiences had not yet tarnished pure innocence.
She bolted out of the changing room and ran to Trish. Her hair flew wildly behind her as her braids slapped her chest and her dress slapped her legs.
"Woah, slow down!" Trish said, a little frightened that Sam was having a panic attack. She bent down and clutched the young girl's waist. "What's wrong?"
Samantha whispered into Tricia's ears, and disbelief washed over her face. "You want me to do that?"
Samantha nodded, grinning like a true six-year-old.
"Okay..." Tricia glanced around and noticed that Sam's running had attracted at least one onlooker. She decided to go into the changing room with Sam while she programmed the remote to make the changes Samantha requested. "I knew you'd come around, Sam," Tricia said softly before she zapped Samantha. "I'll be right outside when you're done."
Alone again, Samantha felt a giddiness bubbling inside her. For the first time she was actually looking forward to the change. She stood in front of the mirror and braced herself.
The change was subtle, as she expected it to be, but she knew just where to look. Her scalp started to tingle as her hair started growing. Slowly, it crawled down her back, gaining more waves and more strands. The two braids that were attached to her head behind each ear also grew longer, inexplicably keeping their perfectly tight forms and always appearing as if the braiding started just as the strands came out of her head. Other locks of her hair separated and braided themselves, though these made much smaller, thinner braids that blended into the hair running down her back. The black waterfall of tresses was soon adorned with a half dozen tiny braids that wove in and out of the rest of her hair. Each was tied, like the two front braids, with a small pink ribbon.
Samantha twirled around in the stall. While it would be cramped for an adult, she found it very spacious. Her hair and her skirt twirled, making conical and spiral shapes in the air. The tingling in her scalp died down, and Sam slowed to a halt and watched her hair softly settle around her. It was knee-length now, even the super thick braids that fell in front of her. The rest of her amazing hair was draped across her back, looking like something out of a fairy tale.
Her head registered the added weight, but the two large braids in front helped to balance it out so that her neck didn't have to struggle to keep her head upright. Her cheeks looked even more rosy than before, which was also one of the modifications she requested. A glimmer from her neck drew Sam's attention to her collar, and the golden tag that dangled from it. She peered closely into the mirror and read the name, "SAMANTHA," in elegant cursive. She upended the tag and saw the upside-down-and-backwards home address and phone number that belonged to Trish, not her. Samantha smiled sheepishly. She'd play out this charade for now, because she was finally starting to get into it, but she made sure to take a mental note to have her revenge once the deal was over and she'd be able to use the remote for her own purposes.
Sam emerged from the dressing room a few minutes later, holding the slightly wrinkled sun dress.
"I was beginning to worry about you," Tricia said. She stroked Sam's hair softly. "You look amazing."
On the way out the door, Tricia put the dress back on its rack and the clerk said goodbye to the girls. Sam glanced back at her and smiled. A strange expression started to form on the clerk's face, and Sam knew she was wondering to herself whether or not that six-year-old's hair was longer than it was when she came in.