Megan set down the picture book she’s been reading for the last half hour. “Homecoming Queens, 1995-2005, Ten Years of Big”, the book contained a number of pictures and info on each year’s Queen. The University decided to print that “review” every ten years for as long as this would continue happening. Taking one last look at the cover, she got up from the desk, and looked through her office window. She was on duty, on the Queen’s Shoebox, ready to give a tour or answer any questions. Even that late, people would still arrive and look at the gigantic footwear on display inside the hangar-like building. From her vantage point, she could see the discarded pair of Sabrina’s heels. The short sandals seemed awfully gigantic. After all, the feel was supposed to be just an inch, not three feet. And of course, the length was scary. About six people would have to lie down, each one’s head on the other’s toe to span the whole length of the cute strappy sandal. Nevertheless, the first pair was not the most impressive on show. Most Queens later on, knowing exactly what was going to happen, tried to select extravagant shoes, most of them sandals, but there was the Queen of 2003: just a pair of pink flip flops that had seen quite some use even before her crowning. They were quite a small pair and definitely not visible to Megan from her vantage point, however. Of course, by “quite small”, it still meant that they were about as long as an SUV – but not as tall, of course. You could easily step on the flip flops and lie down on them, as if they were a big bed.
Megan’s favorite pair so far was the 2008’s pair. At 180 feet tall, that girl, Susan, chose to wear cute ankle-high boots. Just a bit shorter than Sabrina’s sandals, the boots were impressive because of their height. The toe section rose almost as high as a basketball player, and walking towards the arch, you really had to look up to see the edge. The only girl that tried to wear knee-high boots ended up being the biggest disappointment just yet: her knees did not rise above a human’s height, and her tiny boots looked as if they were a toy between Susan’s ankle highs and the 2006’s winner’s, a pair of well-worn flats.
“Thankfully she did not become tall”, Megan thought. The Shoebox would need to have a much, much taller roof, if a girl grew to two hundred feet wearing tall boots. She didn’t particularly enjoy her job on the Shoebox, but she needed the extra cash. Being around all these pairs made her feel very tiny. The last three years she was in Ruttsley as a student, she was awed by the Queens, but it was always good fun. Now, she felt like a mouse walking on someone’s property, feeling dwarfed by even the “tiny” boots, having to show people around the exhibits, sometimes having to stress to children not to try to climb the laces of the blue denim converse sneaker. There was also a magic that preserved the Queen’s shoes. They did not look abandoned and unworn for years. Preserving their colors and shape, they also retained some of the smell that their owners left on them. Most people thought it cute, others did not like it and Megan simply didn’t care herself.
No, what Megan hated most of all on her job, more so than feeling tiny, more than having to climb up the laces herself to pull down a five year old boy, was the creepers that would arrive from time to time. You could see those people, looking lustfully at the shoes, trying to take in the smell, or trying to lick, touch, hug, and savor them. “Geez, it’s just shoes!”, Megan thought. A friend of hers explained to her about people who were sexually attracted to the size difference once. She didn’t mind those people much, but hey, this was as creepy as any stranger man stealing your shoes as a prize. Not cool! A few of those people gathered every year, trying to glorify the Queen or ask her really odd favors, from stepping on them, to begging her to eat them. Those “weirdos” were almost able to kill the fun atmosphere once, when they were waiting for the Queen to shrink down on Sunday evening, and almost managed to abduct her – they were charged with kidnapping and attempted rape, after the girl described in terror how two strong men charged her right as she was hopping down from her sandals, wanting to “punish her” for avoiding to step on them and not killing them – something they attempted a large number of times during the event by throwing themselves on the one-fifty foot tall gal’s way.
Megan brushed her shoulder-length black hair. Thankfully, no Queen had ever given in to those people’s demands. They were, after all, selected a few weeks before the event and specially trained by engineers, policemen, and fire officers on how to act, walk, and behave to make sure she would not be destructive or deadly to other people. Psychologists made up profiles of the Queens-to-be to make sure they would be fine. Only one Queen had been forced to withdraw, after a fireman saw her stomping on the toy people of the “practice field” when she thought no one was looking. After all, the Federal and State authorities agreed not to intervene with the army against a Queen, unless she was destructive – and such a bad event would certainly mean the end of the Queens, with the University forced not to elect one ever again, not to mention the potential damages of a careless step – or more.
Lost in thought, Megan relieved all those stories on her head once more, since this evening there was no one other than her inside the Shoebox. Her shift would last only for thirty minutes more, after all, then she’d go back to her room and study a bit. By no means popular, Megan did not think that she would ever come close to becoming a part of this Hall of Fame. Indeed, her good friend Jackie was selected just a week ago by popular vote, and they had already spent a lot of time shopping: even if only the shoes remained gigantic, a girl’s whole appearance is always important. Long dresses tend to create problems, since they brush people, cars and tents along, while a short skirt makes your undergarments really visible to anyone below. Vibrant socks were the people’s favorites if socks were to be worn, and finally, one girl had even gone as far to plan a pendant made of a few students tied together by a shiny rope. Too bad she did not grow as tall as she wanted to be able to wear it effectively.
Her phone rang, breaking her thoughts again.
“Hello, Megan here.”
“Miss Teeler? We are calling from Rutstown Hospital, your friend Jackie has just been admitted on the ER. She was hit by a car, and we cannot reach her parents just yet – your phone was “starred” on her contacts list so we thought to call you.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes”, Megan answered, and put her phone back in her pocket. No one would miss the Shoebox being closed a bit earlier today, she thought, and dimmed the lights. Long shadows were cast by the shoes, chilling her. Jackie was in danger, and she had to go see her. She locked her office, and walked out of the Shoebox, locking it as well, before rushing to her car.
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Megan arrived on the Hospital, and they pointed her to Jackie’s room. There was no internal bleeding, thankfully, however she had broken her left leg. When she entered the room, she didn’t notice the Dean of the University as she rushed to hug her friend, and fuss over her.
“Thanks Megs, you’re a friend”, Jackie said.
“I came as soon as I could! What happened?”
“Some… idiot slammed on me as I was crossing the road. I’m fine, really!”
“What about your leg though? How are you going to…?” Megan could not find the courage to continue as she saw her friend’s gaze turn to her leg wrapped in a white cast, tears filling her eyes.
“This is exactly why you have been called here, Miss Teeler”, the Dean got up from his seat to greet Megan. She jumped up in surprise, only noticing him now.
“Sir, I did not see you!”
“No worries, we all have friends to worry about first. However, as you observed, your friend will not be able to be healed in three week’s time for her coronation and, ah, growth. We need to change Queens, I am afraid. Normally, the school would give the title to the runner up of the vote, but this year it could prove quite impossible: The “idiot” who hit your friend was none other than the second in votes, and therefore, her reckless driving disqualifies her from this highly subtle job. I have decided that if Jackie here cannot perform, we have to respect her victory, and let her decide on her replacement.”
“But, sir, another election, maybe?”
“Too late Megs. Remember how was I joking that I would hold you on my palm and let you watch the Game from there? I expect you to hold me now. Be kind to my leg and don’t you dare become smaller than what needed to hold me!”
“But, but…others…more popular…better suited….I’m not sure…”
“Miss Teeler, from the little I have heard of you, you are quite the peaceful and caring person. I am sure your training session tomorrow will be proof that you are more than able. We would call a second election, but I think it’s Jackie’s, ah, throne, and since it’s not her fault that she lost it, it’s her right to chose who to pass it on.
“You little manipulative, broken-legged slut!” Megan called out, laughing. Images from the Shoebox were rushing on her head. Images of things yet to come as well – she was there, tall, lifting the ‘lid”, observing the other pairs of shoes, and putting her own next to the end of the line. Showing off her shoes to the visitors that would flock the museum on the next day to talk to her. Holding up Jackie on her palm and letting her watch the game from up there.
“Damn it! I’ll do it!”, Megan exclaimed. “you will owe me a favor though. Whatever I ask, whenever I do!”
“Deal”, Jackie nodded, as the two friends hugged.