Dear Diary,

Today was fucked up.

I found Rose shrunk in the cafeteria. No, for real. Rose, the epitome of perfect. Student council president. 4.0 GPA. Full scholarship to some fancy music school. Beautiful auburn hair. And she isn’t a bitch like you’d expect –– she’s one of the sweetest, most kind-hearted people you could ever meet.

So she was the last person I’d expected to find four inches tall in the cafeteria. Barely one in two thousand people are even affected by the so-called “shrinker phenomenon” to begin with, and then to be found by me, the destitute loner of the senior class...

Seriously, it was weird that we were both even there at the same time. I’d been staying late to make up some of the tests I missed when I was taking care of mom last week. On the way out I stopped in the cafeteria to see if Greg would give me some leftovers again.

Yes, I use my boobs to get free food. So sue me.

Anyway, he and the rest of the staff had apparently left early today (just my luck) but I saw a purse lying in front of the vending machine. I thought it was a little weird that a bunch of clothes were lying there too, but I was more concerned with any cash that might be inside the purse, so I started looking through it. Keys, tic tacs, a nice smartphone...but no wallet and no cash. Frustrated, I picked up the phone to see if I could at least find who it belonged to.

Then the purse squeaked. I looked in, expecting a mouse or something, and I saw Rose. 

The poor thing was in tears, shaking and clutching a tissue like an enormous security blanket. I leaned in closer to her and she shrieked. I wanted to say something supportive, but like...what could I possibly say? I tried stroking her back soothingly. I must have startled her, because she shat herself. Literally. I guess that broke her, because she broke into full-fledged sobs and crawled weakly to the other side of the purse. So I just sat back and let her cry. Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s natural.

After a few minutes I leaned down again, slowly, and asked in a whisper if she wanted me to call her parents. It took a minute for her to respond, and I could barely hear her between the trembling voice and lower volume. Eventually I was able to make out that her parents were on vacation. She’d been trying to make a phone call to her aunt a few hours away, but her tiny limbs couldn’t activate the touch screen. I offered to bring her back to my mom’s place while we figured things out. Cue another bout of sobbing.

I felt a lump in my own throat. What the fuck was I supposed to do? After another few minutes I managed to calm her down by suggesting we at least get her cleaned up, and I could get her something to wear. Eventually she nodded and I picked up the purse slowly...but not slowly enough, because she toppled over and landed face-first in her own feces. She vomited and started sobbing yet again.

At this point I was just concerned for her well-being, so I delicately used my thumb and index finger to lift the tiny girl out of the soiled purse. She screamed bloody murder and flailed around wildly, and I just had to hold on tighter to keep from dropping her! I deposited her on my other hand and reached for a tissue to clean her up...but by the time I looked back at her, she’d passed out. Poor thing.

I took the opportunity to clean her up as gently as I could...I spat on the tissue and wiped down her face, her arms, her butt. I felt bad, like I was violating her somehow. But I would’ve felt worse leaving her all dirty. Once that was done, I gently wrapped her in another tissue and tried to decide where to put her. My pocket? She might get crushed. My purse? She might get whacked in the head by something. My bra? Ew.

I gathered her things and ended up cradling her against my stomach with both hands as I walked home, lightly petting her back with my thumb. She unconsciously leaned into my touch and snuggled against my stomach. It was actually kind of cute.

She was still sound asleep when I got home, thank god. Mom was sitting in her chair with her crossword, so I quickly kissed her hello and then went to my room. I put Rose on my bed, filled a small bottle cap with some water from the tap –– it hasn’t been shut off yet, thank god –– and left it next to her.

I tried to forget about her as I went through my usual routine. I made mom some chicken. Changed her IV. Mail had come in –– credit card solitications, more overdue notices, and the weekly invoice from the hospital. I ignored all of them, as usual. I didn’t tell mom about Rose; no need to worry her more. She noticed I was distracted, though; I shrugged it off and said it was just a long day. I don’t think she bought it, but she didn’t press the issue.

Once I finished everything, I made myself a cheese sandwich and went back to my room. Rose was still fast asleep on my bed. I sat down on the floor so as not to wake her, but I think she heard me or something because she started to stir.

I held my breath, praying she wouldn’t freak out again. She stretched and sat up, then looked around. Still a little disoriented. Then she saw me and started to tremble. Crap. I quickly scooched away as far as I could, and that actually seemed to help. She was still staring at me, but I could tell that her breathing was steady.

An hour later, I’m still sitting here, and she’s still staring. I’m afraid to move and set her off. But I was able to grab my diary off my desk and write this all down without upsetting her, so...progress. Now I have to figure out what to do with her. Lord knows I can’t afford to take care of her, and if I can’t even get close to her (let alone have a conversation) without traumatizing her, how am I supposed to get her family’s contact info? Blehh.

She doesn’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this.

I guess sometimes shit just happens.

Another hour passes. I’m still sitting in the corner, and now my back is aching like crazy. I glance over at the mirror leaning against the wall. The heat’s turned my short blond hair into something out of an H.P. Lovecraft story...ugh, I remember when we could afford air conditioning.

I slip out of my shirt so I’m wearing only a tank top. Great, now my sweaty tits are hanging out for the world to see. I hate my fucking tits. Aww, but Kayla, you’re so lucky! Fuck off. If you want to deal with the back problems, the uber-expensive bras, lack of decent clothing, and getting groped by every guy in school, be my guest.

Rose is still staring from the foot of the bed less than five feet away. She’s adjusted to a kneeling position, slightly slouched, with her hands resting lightly on my quilt. The makeshift tissue-toga is moving ever so slightly with her deep breaths. Maybe she’s calmer now? But I can’t make out her expression from here, just her face red from all the crying.

I sit up slowly and stretch my arms over my head, stiff from not moving for so long.

Rose doesn’t flinch. I let my arms down and exhale deeply.

“Hi,” I whisper. “I’m Kayla.”

I wait. She just keeps staring. I suppose no response is better than a bad response.

“We’ve been in the same class for a few years. Do you remember me?”

More staring. Fuck.

“Okay, um...look, I want to help you. But I need you to like...communicate with me.”

Her posture slumps and she sits down completely, hugging her knees to her chest and burying her face in them.

“Okay, you don’t even have to talk. Just nodding your head yes or no is enough for now. Can you at least do that?”

She looks up. I flash an awkward smile at her and try to look as non-threatening as possible.

Almost imperceptibly, she gives a single nod. Okay, that’s progress.

“Do you want something to eat?”

She shakes her head slightly and lowers her head to her knees again.

“Do you want me to call someone for you?”

No response. I raise my voice to a slightly louder whisper. “Rose?” She looks up when I say her name. “Do you want me to call somebody?”

She shakes her head again. What’s going on? I thought she was trying to call her Aunt before; now she doesn’t want help from anyone?

“...do you want me to leave you alone?”

Even from a distance, I can see her eyes go wide at this. She shakes her head vigorously.

“Um...do you want me to just sit here?”

She stares blankly. This is going to be a long evening.

I sigh deeply. “All right. I’ll stay here with you, but I need to be able to leave this corner. Can you promise me you won’t freak out?”

Still no response. Great, she’s going catatonic again. “I’m going to stand up now, okay?”

I place my hands slowly on the floor and push off, taking extra care not to bang anything as I have a habit of doing. Rose’s eyes never leave mine. After about ten seconds, I’m standing at my full five feet and three inches, and she’s gaping up at me -- but she hasn’t freaked out. That’s good.

“Okay, sweetie, you’re doing great. Now, I’m just going to slowly walk over to the bed and lie down on it.”

Her eyes go wide again and she clutches two tiny handfuls of the quilt.

“Please, Rose...I won’t do anything to hurt you. Can I please lie down on the bed? My back is killing me,” I plead, lifting my obnoxiously large breasts up with one arm and adjusting my bra with my free hand.

After what feels like an eternity, she nods her head once, but her expression stays fearful and she never lets go of the quilt. Her eyes still locked on me, I carefully take one step toward the bed. Then another. And another. I could get on from here, but it would mean climbing over Rose. I take another five light steps to the other side of the bed and sit down slowly next to my pillow, as far away from the terrified little girl as possible.

Rose squeezes her eyes closed as the terrain shifts, and she clutches the quilt more tightly to keep from rolling towards me. I quickly bring my legs up onto the bed, distributing the weight more evenly and keeping the surface more level. I scooch my butt forward and turn on my side facing her, resting my head on the stack of blue pillows and stretching my legs out.

Crap. I have a twin bed. My feet are only a few inches away from her. The wrong twitch could send the tiny thing flying across the room. I guess Rose thinks the same thing, because she instinctively scooches away. Now she’s too close to the edge of the bed.

“Hey, careful of the edge,” I caution her, louder than I mean to. Rose gives a tiny, barely-audible squeak and crawls diagonally away from both the edge and my feet, but that only takes her closer to my stomach. If I roll over, she’ll be squashed like a bug.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a better bed,” I apologize as she looks at me, still fearful and breathing quickly. “We can’t afford much with my mom being sick and stuff.”

Her demeanor shifts at those last words; her breathing slows and she looks away, rubbing her eyes. I guess hearing about my problems made me seem more human.

“But hey, we get by. Mom has her disability check coming in, and I pick up odd jobs where I can. Occasionally dad can send stuff from back east.” I shrug my shoulders. “One day at a time, you know?”

Rose nods slowly.

“Hey,” I say carefully. “Do you want to come over here where I can’t...um, where it’s safer? Or you can move to my nightstand?” The tiny girl looks directly at my face, which must be the size of a bus to her, and then over to my nightstand.

“C’mon,” I say gently. “It’s okay.”

Rose hesitates for a moment and then starts to stand up, but the plush, uneven surface of the quilt throws off her balance. She falls to her hands and knees. I hear her start to cry, but she sounds different than before. Now it’s a sad, pathetic whine instead of an anguished wail.

She looks over at me, teary-eyed. Her expression, now close enough to read, is one I immediately recognize. It’s exactly the expression mom had when we first got her diagnosis. It’s the expression of hopelessness.

I slowly move my arm from its resting place on my side and extend an index finger in front of her. Still crying, she flinches, and I immediately withdraw.

“Let me help?” I ask softly. “Please?”

She glances at my hand apprehensively, than looks back to my face. I know her thoughts –– if she accepts help, it’s like admitting that she can’t do things on her own. Mom went through the same thing.

I carefully re-extend my hand in front of her, palm up, with all my fingers curled inward except my index finger. Rose and I stare at each other for a few seconds. It feels like an eternity.

Then she slowly reaches with her left arm and grips the skin on the pad of my index finger.

A tingle shoots up my arm. I can feel each individual digit on Rose’s hand pressing in on my finger pad, like a gentle pinprick. Her right arm extends and rests lightly below my first knuckle. She slowly hoists herself to her feet, using my finger for balance, and takes a small step towards my face. She wobbles a bit, but stays on her feet. I adjust my arm ever so slightly to keep pace with her. All this time, she’s looking at my finger as if it might jump up and bite her.

I breathe deeply as she takes another step, more steadily this time. I move my arm again, guiding her towards me.

Rose and I do our strange dance for another thirty seconds, bringing her within a foot of my face. She looks at me with a nervous expression. I smile at her warmly.

A few seconds pass.

She opens her mouth.

“H-hey,” she whimpers.

“So, I’m Kayla,” I repeat to the tiny girl. She nods up at me nervously, still holding my finger. “Can I get you anything?””

A moment passes before she answers. “Um...w-water?”

“Sure. Wait right here.”

“NO!” she shrieks, startling me. Her tiny fists grasp the skin on my finger tightly.

I tilt my head at her, raising an eyebrow. “No? You don’t want water?”

“N-no, I do,” she stammers. “I mean...please stay here.”

“Okay. Um...there’s no water here. It’ll only be a minute, so—“

“Don’t leave me alone!” she wails. She pulls my finger closer and clutches it to her chest like a security blanket. I can feel her racing heartbeat, even at her small size, and the tiny mist of her tears dribbles onto my fingertip.

I clear my throat. “Rose, I know you’re scared. I promise I’ll keep you safe until we figure something out. Right now, I just want to keep you hydrated. I promise, I’ll be back in just a second.”

She doesn’t respond. I sigh, unsure of how to proceed. “Do you want me to...bring you with me?”

Rose shakes her tiny head frantically and tightens her hold on my finger, tears still in her eyes.

“Okay, how about this,” I continue softly. “When I say go, let go of me, close your eyes and start counting to a hundred. Don’t open them until you’re done. You’ll barely know I’m gone. Okay?”

Her crying seems to die down slightly, and she moves a hand from my finger to rub her eyes. Her breathing slows. She gives a tiny nod.

“Ready?” I say, not allowing the unpredictable pixie any time to change her mind. “Go.”

She releases my finger and covers her ears with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut tight. I hear her start to count quietly. “One...two...three…”

Somehow I move off the bed without disrupting Rose’s counting and tiptoe quickly to the tiny utility closet we call a kitchen. I grab an empty jar from the recycling bin and rinse it out, then fill it with a few inches of water. Perfect. I stretch to grab a plastic cup from the top shelf, and...wait. Rose will hardly be able to drink from a normal cup. Even a thimble would be difficult.

Wary of Rose’s countdown, I crouch under the sink and frantically dig through the basket of random knick knacks that’s accumulated over the years, looking for something, anything, that Rose can use to drink. A thumbtack. A few popsicle sticks. A marble-sized ball of aluminum foil. An open bag of rubber bands. A broken...wait. Aluminum foil?

I hold the ball between two fingers and peel back a few layers of foil. The soft metal is pliable, but it maintains its form as I twist and bend a tiny piece into a crude but functional (I hope) container. Pinching it lightly between thumb and forefinger, I screw a matching lid onto my jar of water and bring them both back to my room.

Good, she’s only made it to eighty. I carefully sit back down on the bed and place the foil cup next to her, then I unscrew the lid from the jar and pour a bit of water into it. Of course, this reservoir is the size of a small washtub to Rose, but that’s what the cup is for. I carefully set the lid down next to Rose and set the jar on my nightstand.

Phew. Who’d have thought fetching water would be such a chore?

“...a hundred.”

I look back at Rose as she uncovers her ears and opens her eyes. She stares blankly at the lid-tub of water next to her for a few seconds. I open my mouth to point out the foil container I’ve fashioned, but she suddenly scurries to water’s edge and starts cupping it into her mouth with her two tiny hands at a rapid pace.

“Uh...I brought you a cup…” I mumble, not quite sure whether I should interrupt Rose. I don’t think she hears me. I sit here gaping for at least a full minute while she frantically drinks and splashes water onto her face as if it were some anti-shrinking balm.

She finally finishes and sits, panting, next to the lid.

“Are you okay?” I ask. I’m still mildly concerned she might explode from all that water.

“I’m...I’m good,” Rose mutters back, still catching her breath. She finally relaxes and looks up at me sheepishly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…what happened to you?”

“Huh?”

“What happened when you, um...” I don’t even want to say the word, lest it set her off again. “What happened before I found you?”

Her face grows red and I can tell she wants to cry again. She holds it in. “I really don’t even know. I was getting a snack for the walk home, then I felt dizzy and it just kind of...happened. ”

I nod understandingly. “How long were you there?”

“A few minutes, maybe,” she replies. “Hey, what were you doing going through my purse anyway? I’m glad you did, but—”

“I was trying to find out who it belonged to,” I interrupt. “Then I picked up the phone and saw you.”

“Oh, my phone!” she says suddenly. “Where is it?”

I point to her purse on my nightstand. “I left your things over there.”

“Can I see it?”

I reach over and pull her phone from the purse. “You have a text from someone named Emily.” I scroll through the notifications on her locked screen. “And a bunch of missed calls from someone named Janice.”

She nods. “Janice is my mom. Probably wondering why I’m not home.”

“You said they were on vacation.”

“Vanesa must have told them,” she groans. “Our maid.”

God, she has a fucking maid? She must be richer than I thought.

“Well, do you want me to call her? Or your aunt?” I turn the phone to face her. “What’s your password?”

Rose freezes. “Can’t I stay here?”

Huh? What’s she playing at? I gape at her, flabbergasted, for a few seconds before realizing I should reply. “Um…we’re not exactly in a great financial position.”

“But you...well, just fucking look at me!” she bursts out, gesturing to her minuscule self. “I don’t need much! Food and water and...I guess books or something!”

“Rose,” I cut in sharply, causing her to flinch. “Why do you not want to go back to your family?”

“I...just can’t,” she mumbles.

I cross my arms. “Yeah, that’s a good reason. Seriously, weren’t you trying to call your aunt when I found you?”

“I can’t,” she repeats, her voice quivering.

“Look, I know this must be rough for you.“

“No, you DON’T!” she screeches. “You don’t know how I feel! You can’t!”

“Maybe not, but I can still—“

“I’m adopted. Did you know that?”

It takes me a second to process the sudden change of subject. “Um...no, I didn’t. So what?”

“So, my parents are rich snobs who adopted me for the attention! They need everyone to know how special and important they are. They made me start learning the piano when I was just fucking three so they could parade me around and show how talented their girl is! Do you think I actually WANT to go to music school?”

I stare at her, stunned, unsure how to respond.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” she continues, burying her face in her hands. “Because now I’m a…I’m just...”

She bursts out crying yet again. I clear my throat quietly. “I’m sorry, Rose...but they’re still your family, aren’t they? Wouldn’t you rather be with them?”

“You don’t get it!” she sobs, looking back up at me.  “Having a shrinker as a daughter would be a dream come true for them! If you take me back there, I’ll just be another...another THING they can use to show off!”

I’m at a loss for words. I’ve always had this idea of Rose in my head—this sweet and beautiful girl with a perfect life. “But...what about your aunt? You were trying to call her, right?”

Rose wipes her eyes, sniffling. “I shouldn't have. She lives off my dad anyway. If he ever found out…” Her voice trails off.

“You don’t even want me to tell them?”

“Can you afford a lawsuit? If they know I’m here, they’ll come after you with everything they have.”

“Huh? Aren’t you eighteen?” I ask, confused. “You’re legally an adult.”

She shakes her head. “Their lawyers always figure something out.”

“Maybe it’s for the best, though,” I say pointedly. “I don’t think I can, like...keep you.”

“Kayla, please!” she begs.

“Rose...between taking care of mom, my shitty job, and trying to actually graduate...I’m barely alive as is.”

“I’ll...I’ll earn my keep!” she stammers, tearing up again and clasping her hands together in quasi-prayer.

“Yeah? How, exactly?” I snap, more harshly than I intend. Rose lowers her head and I can see her shaking with silent sobs.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I apologize. “But even if I let you stay, your parents will know you’re missing! And the school will notice when you’re not in class, or at student council meetings.”

Rose looks up. “I could...leave my parents a note that I’m running away. They’d believe it.”

I guess that makes sense, but still...why does she want to stay here in particular? “Don’t you have friends from school you’d rather be with?”

She shakes her head again. “Nobody I’d trust enough.”

“Unlike me, who you basically just met a few hours ago?”

“I didn’t choose you!” she cries. “But...you’ve been good to me.”

I exhale deeply and cover my face with my hands. I can’t take care of another whole fucking person, at least not without some serious help. And her family is obviously out. Maybe I can take her to one of those shrinker shelters? But those could be even worse.

“Look,” I say resignedly, “It’s already past seven, so you can stay here tonight. Tomorrow is Saturday anyway. In the morning we’ll talk to my mom and figure out what to do.”

Rose’s eyes grow wide. “I don’t want anyone else to see me.”

“She’s my mom. If you really want to stay here, you’re going to have to meet her.”

“B-but what if she doesn’t like me?” Rose stutters.

“Rose," I laugh. "She’s a fifty-two year old woman with failing kidneys! I think she’ll be happy for the company.”

Rose perks up immediately. “So I can stay?”

“I didn’t say that! Look, let’s just relax for now, okay? It’s been a long day. Do you want something to eat?”

She bites her lip nervously. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Come on,” I coax her. “I make a mean grilled cheese.”

Rose actually smiles for the first time since she got here.

“That sounds nice.”