The violent squeaking of rubber soles on compass carved wood roared among giants. Monsters that could only look down on him were left in charge of his fate. A hum of indignation, sour glances and feigned ignorance to his plight drove him on. The name Sally, with a straight sharp ‘S’ scratched underfoot. He tread over several cutting insults each with an etched in arrow pointing a different direction. Barrelling forward at a breakneck pace, Parker gave himself less than a moment to swivel on his heels, tuck his knees in tight and throw his right arm backward to compensate for a crabwalk lean. He pushed off from the skin textured pillar that had called for his evasive action into an athletic sprint. Back at full pace he had to move without hesitation. He sank into a roll avoiding a second columnar digit crushing through his ribcage. The soft thump of ridged skin collapsing into marked up wood confirmed his success. With a growing ego, and boundless confidence he threaded easily through two more pillars, only to be greeted by the dissatisfaction of a second set of impatiently tapping fingers. Their heavy descent, rapid retraction and the clawing scrapes of nail against wood between cast any lingering doubt aside. She knew he was there.

 A vertically affected victim’s worth was only equal to that of what whomever laid claim to them perceived it to be. A pet, a slave or a limp lifeless body balled up in a snotty tissue thrown care-freely into a waiting bin. This last image stayed particularly pertinent in Parker’s mind, recalling the incident of Mary Walling blowing her nose into her boyfriend. He had been sat back casually resting on a tissue Mary had pulled out for him, when he was yanked up instinctively. A loud sneeze followed by an ‘oh crap’ had silenced a room. Parker was much younger then, the whole size reduction phenomenon was still in its infancy. Even now though, not much was known about it. The trial of the incident came to the conclusion that the death of Mary's boyfriend was nothing more than an indiscretion. This was one of the first of many cases, paving a way for a precedent that meant you couldn’t be charged for deliberately maiming, killing, torturing or performing any other act that would normally be considered unlawful or immoral on a size impaired person. In the words of the law, “They were no longer a person”.

 Which is why it mattered so much to Parker who got to him first. Being malicious was just as bad as being clumsy. At least a scorned ex would be careful enough to keep you safe until they had carried out their ninety nine point revenge plan. He wasn’t planning on belonging to this set of butterfly-painted nails. As far as he was concerned he didn’t know this girl and that made her all the more dangerous. Her enamoured giggles salted his core. His heart sank as he saw more and more of her palm. Her outstretched tapping fingers had curled together in a cupping gesture blocking his escape. Turning back around he was faced with another suspiciously hand shaped wall. The two of them closing in, clasping together to the rapturous delight of his enemy from above.

‘I think you’ve lost’ the words whistled through a sardonic grin.

He stood and turned to her, for the first time really looking at her. A dust-clad faded leather look jacket lined with a bright purple hoodie swamped what he would consider to be a petit figure. Underneath it, she wore a personalised, formfitting t-shirt that hugged her tightly. A brown swathe of hair waved down her angular face. Soft chocolate eye gazed past her elf-like nose and a look of playful curiosity turned into a patchwork grin of power, predilection and predetermination. The pale of her cheeks reddened with her first thoughts.

‘Hello pretty monster’ he beamed up impishly. Charm was his only defence now, as a last-ditch feeble stand.

A humongous finger unfurled itself. Coming to a rest on his shoulder. He felt the weight of it burdening down on him, knowing that it didn’t need him to hold it up. The moment seemed to pass soft and slow, the tip gently warmed against his face. The feeling was incredible, that something so large could be so gentle. As the moment caught back up to real time he felt a stinging sensation all over his face. He was looking up at the finger from the flat of his back. Infectious giggling filled the air around him. A flick was all it took to knock him back before he had even known what had hit him.

‘Do you really think I’m pretty’ she teased down in an unassuming manner. Sweet enough to lower any man’s guard but with implications of a wrong answer enough to raise it back up again, leaving a steeled nervous wreck.  

‘Do you recognise me?’ he called up, ‘it’s Parker.’ The words began scratchy and tearful, before they started pouring out, ‘It’s not my first name, that’s Nick, Nick Parker. I don’t know why you would. I don’t recognise you. I don’t think this is my class, I was just in the room before and’

Nick was cut off by another flick, this time to his gut.

‘Well Nick, Nick Parker. That’s not what I asked you’ she saw him clutch his stomach and the look of concern he wore changed into one of distress, eyes shut tight and through gritted teeth he whimpered. He was a cornered animal now, No, she thought, cornered animals at least put up a fight, ‘Do you really think I’m pretty?’

‘Yes I do’ he replied, anything to stop her from flicking him again.

‘And you were running about on the table tops looking for someone to find you?’

‘Yes I was’ he managed to wheeze out.

‘Well then you’re in luck’ she met the stirring look of confusion in his eyes, ‘I’m someone, I found you, and you think I’m pretty. Can’t get much luckier than that. Especially at your size.’

Her hand was already curling him into her palm before he could object. Parker quickly learned that screaming when muffled by the gigantic palm of your new owner’s hand wasn’t nearly as satisfying as an un-muffled scream. But it was a damn sight scarier.

Kit dumped Parker into an inner pocket of her jacket, zipping it shut and letting it settle back into place as she too settled back in her seat.  She let herself drift back into her thoughts feeling the padded tickles of his frantically flailing body against her chest. The rest of the students in the lecture continued doing the same. Eyes staring forward blankly. It was much easier to ignore what had just happened than to have to start answering questions about “what doing the right thing” meant anymore. Out of sight out of mind. Of course a frantically thrashing Nick Parker did not share the same view, anymore. 

We're going to have to change that name, she smiled.

The air was stifling, that or there just wasn’t much of it. After his kicking episode proved fruitless Parker changed his tactic. He realised there wasn’t a chance of getting himself out of her pocket with force. Instead an idea came to him, one that should have been his first thought. Feeling like an idiot he started patting himself down. After checking each pocket twice he found the familiar block shape he was looking for. His phone lit up, illuminating the dark of the breast pocket. The walls draped around him wrapping him in a velvety bindle.

I have signal, he thought to himself.

‘I have signal!’ he cried out with uncontained joy.

He felt a sudden pressure, crushing him close to Kit’s chest.

‘Shut the hell up’ she hissed down. Kit moved her hand back to resting on the desk. Another outburst like that and she wouldn’t hold back with just a tap.

After a minute of silence it became clear that he was staying put. She wasn’t reaching in to fish him out.

Parker started scrolling through his contact list, there wasn’t anyone he thought he could call for help right now. If the first person said no, then that meant calling another and then another until he found someone. He knew there was no way this girl was going to put up with him running a call centre from her pocket.  Instead he opened the camera and started taking pictures of himself. It only took a minute before he had uploaded them with his cries to help to Facebook, twitter and Tumblr. His phone chirped out with the first notification.

‘Social media to the rescue’ he smugly hummed to himself, he looked back to his phone to find out who was the first person that was ready to save him, ‘What’s wrong with you’ He shouted in anger only to be gifted with another hard smack against her body. He scrambled around trying to clamber back to his feet. The anger was still foaming up inside as he found himself looking down at the screen on his phone. The notification read, Nicole Robeson likes your status.

He reread what he’d put out loud to make sure there was no confusion, ‘I have shrunk down in the Thorson building, lecture room T105, please send help some girl has already put me in her pocket. I need to get help, please. I’ll PM anyone who helps what she looks like. Just help me’

Another chirp shook his phone. Andrea commented, Lucky girl, always wondered what you tasted like.

Jake Parker: Does that mean I get all your stuff?

Adam Gylkes: What’s that supposed to be, a pocket selfie?

Lucy Parker: Idiot.

What he thought were his friends had already started posting pictures of themselves wrapped up and crying in blankets, posted with #pocketparker and #shrinkeeselfie.

The lecture was close to over, but the tiny beeping that only she could hear was already grating on Kit’s nerves. She reached into her pocket, carelessly fumbling the tiny boy around in her fingers until she found his hand. With unprecedented precision and skill she plucked the tiny phone from him. But it had been Nick that had practically thrust the phone into her fingers. After reading all the comments and jokes that were being posted, it didn’t seem that it could be of any use other than making everything feel more hopeless

Kit brought the tiny phone up to her eyes, holding it precariously between her thumb and forefinger.  With an indignant self-satisfied smirk she rubbed his phone into a fine metal powder.

Nick sat back and sulked for the next half hour, no one was coming to his aid. Any friendships he had now didn’t mean anything. He thought it would be different. That someone would help him, it was always so easy to ignore the problem before, and Nick would always argue if they had been better people then maybe someone would help them when they shrank. Being a fraction of your size meant people turned on you. You weren’t one of them anymore so you deserved everything that came to you. And they felt more than responsible for pest control.

Kit didn’t hold the same view, sure they were still people. But she didn’t have to treat them as such.