“Heather! What the hell just happened? Are you okay? Why are we still small? How big are we?” Rebecca asked at what sounded like a thousand frightened words a minute.
“Um, gimme a sec,” Heather said while pushing herself to her feet. She looked around and discovered that her head was about level with Rebecca’s bed. “I’m good now, I think. I was growing you back and my stomach started hurting like it did a few years ago. I’m fine now, but that time I was stuck four feet tall for a few days before my power came back. Umm, I think I’m about Delilah’s size right now.”
“Well can you grow us back?” Rebecca asked as she sat on the edge of the bed and let her legs dangle. She gauged the unfamiliarly high drop for a second before pushing herself off the edge. Her nightshirt billowed slightly, exposing a pair of purple panties before she landed with a soft plop next to her elder sister.
“I think I have two or three inches on you?” Heather guesstimated. “I’m trying, but nothing’s happening. My power’s there, it just won’t let me touch it right now,” she explained honestly.
“Heather, Becca! Please come down and help me,” Miranda, their mother’s voice called gently through the closed door to the bedroom.
“Time to let everyone know there’s a problem,” Rebecca groaned while Heather reached up and opened the bedroom door.
The two young women walked downstairs and into the kitchen, taking their time with the stairs now that each step was almost knee-height. Heather stayed standing and took one step at a time, running her hand along the wall to keep her balance. Rebecca sat at the top of each step and lowered her bottom down to the next, rubbing the rugburn on her backside when she got to the foot of the stairs.
They walked to the kitchen where Miranda was preparing scrambled eggs for the four women in the house. Her husband Justin, stepfather to the two elder daughters, was away on business for the next week, so she was leaning heavily on Heather and Rebecca since their school sessions were over. “Heather, could you set the table? Becca, I need you to get Delilah out of the living room and into her booster seat please,” the attractive forty-one-year-old woman told her daughters without looking over her shoulder as she heard them walk in.
“Um, mom,” Heather began as Miranda leaned over to turn the stovetop off and divide eggs between four plates waiting next to the oven.
Miranda looked over at her daughters, “Girls, why are you small and still in your nightclothes? I need your help please.” She asked them.
“We’re stuck like this,” Heather answered while Rebecca winced next to her.
When Heather and Rebecca finished explaining the morning’s events to their mom, Mirana shook her head and reached for the drawer where she kept plates and utensils for her toddler. She handed the two shrunken women the toddler-size forks and spoons before beginning to put eggs on the plates. “Set the Delilah’s table for the three of you,” she commanded her daughters. “I still have a few things to do while we eat, and we’ll figure this out when I get back home after work.”
Heather and Rebecca obeyed their mother and carried their utensils to the living room where their two-year-old sister Delilah was playing on the floor. They obediently set the little plastic picnic table usually reserved for Delila’s coloring books or a kiddie table when there was company over. Delilah was only too happy at the prospect of having breakfast with her “me size” sisters, but Heather and especially Rebecca were a little alarmed at the sight of Heather being the biggest sister by just one inch and Rebecca demoted to being the littlest by two inches.
Miranda came out and watched her two shrunken daughters in their pajamas eating their breakfast with a fully dressed two-year-old and felt a pang of anxiety about the day ahead. “Maybe I should call a sitter,” she muttered to herself while fingering her cellphone.
In the end, Miranda decided to call…
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