“Is he dead?”

“Oh my god you killed him, Thomas!”

“No, he’s breathing…”

“He’s so freaking tiny!”

“I’ve heard about this kid. His identical twin brother is in my class!”

“Me too! I’ve heard he’s been home schooled his whole life!”

“Apparently he was shrunk eight years ago!”

“Why do you think he’s wearing earmuffs?”

“Dunno. You think he’ll wake up?”

My eyes snap open and I barely convey a yelp in shock. I’m lying on something white and feather soft, probably a tissue, with at least five giant teenage faces meeting my eyes. I rub them absentmindedly as I stare up at my apparent classmates, who happen to be staring down. Don’t tell me I fell asleep…

“Hello!” Someone says so loudly I barely contain a wince. I shift into a sitting position, trying to make sense of where the heck I am. I can’t see over all the giant teenagers, but the tissue I’m lying on appears to be on top of a desk…

“You fell asleep.” Another kid pipes in. I adjust my earmuffs, push my blonde fringe out of my eyes and stand up groggily. Well this is embarrassing.

“Um… where am I?” I ask as loudly as I can. I try to project my voice, because my brother’s always telling me how quiet I sound to him. Why the hell did I have to fall asleep?

“You’re in the drama classroom.” A random kid replies matter-of-factly. There are a few nods of agreement. I stare at the bunched up tissues underfoot before carefully stepping onto the wood of the table… or whatever this is that I’m standing on.

“I’m guessing you guys are my classmates.” I say in attempt to either break the tension in the room or make some kind of conversation. “I’m Marcus.”

“Hi.” Someone says. I give a little wave in the direction of the speaker, but it’s hard to pinpoint them in this dizzying mob of giant students. The table I’m standing on is waist high to them, so I’m practically surrounded by giants and giantesses who are all looking down at me expectantly. It’s pretty daunting, even to me, who’s been midget for years.

“Um… where’s the teacher?” I ask the crowd. Why is it that I always manage to become the class weirdo here?

“Right here.” An irritated voice replies from somewhere behind the mob of students. I can’t see her, but I know that this is my teacher. “I’m sorry, Marcus. These kids won’t leave you alone.” She adds with mild annoyance.

As if registering the fact that the teacher exists, the mob surrounding my table parts to reveal a large classroom which is connected to what looks like a performing stage. Thomas, as well as a few other kids sit cross legged on the beige carpet floor in front of a woman perched on a wooden chair. My drama teacher beams at me from across the room. She’s a short, plump woman with enormous circular glasses and extravagantly frizzy and plaited hair. She wears a tight but flowy pink and green dress and has shiny knee length polka dot gumboots over her feet.

“Give Marcus some space, kids. Class has started!” She says in a sweet sounding voice. The mob of students around me obeys instantly by sitting down in front of the teacher. I myself can’t even get off this desk without breaking something important so I awkwardly sit down with my legs hanging over the edge, trying to ignore the countless eyes trained on me. The desk I sit on is one of many which are lined up haphazardly around the place. I have a feeling that this drama class doesn’t really use them for much.

I fiddle with the cord of my doll’s pants as my teacher begins talking. “My name is Mrs Lewis, and as you’ve probably guessed, I’ll be your grade eight drama teacher.” She says. “This term will focus mainly on the word, melodrama. Melodrama is a famous form of acting, which involves the actors exaggerating their emotions so that the end result is more of a staged feel. I’d like us to get straight into our assessment task for the semester, but before I discuss it, let’s get to know ourselves a bit better.”

Mrs Lewis instructs the rest of the class to form a circle on the carpet, which I find extremely awkward because I’m kind of stuck up on the desk. At least she notices me when the other students have resembled a makeshift circle. “Thomas? Would you like to give Marcus a hand?” She asks in a pleasant voice. I sigh in relief, despite the awkwardness of the situation. At least I get to take part in whatever activity Mrs Lewis is planning.

Thomas smiles and stands up to walk over to my desk. I let him scoop me into his cupped hand and sit back down with me now seated on his short covered knee. I can feel everyone else in the room staring at me, scratch the teacher, so I do my best to blot them out. Mrs Lewis claps her hands together, causing me to cringe, and clears her throat.

“Ok, we’re going to go around the circle and tell each other our name and five things about ourselves that no one would know. We’ll start with you.” Mrs Lewis points to none other than my old buddy Burger Boy, who has seated himself directly beside her. He purses his lips for a moment before speaking.

“Well, I’m Kevin… um… I play soccer and tennis, I can speak English and German, I was born in Germany, my parents own a ‘Grilled’ burger place in town-“ That explains the burger… “-and I just moved to Kingaroy in the break.” Burger bo- Kevin says, flashing one of his cool kid smiles. The rest of the class takes their turn in speaking, and before long, it’s Thomas’s go.

“I’m Thomas, I play soccer, my mum and I moved from America after she had a breakthrough in oncology, I have a pet cat called Gandalf, my favourite food is ice cream and I live outside of town on a farm.” He says.

“Lovely.” Mrs Lewis smiles. She nods in my direction. “Marcus?”

I swallow, knowing I should say something. What do I do that no one else knows about? I mean come on, everyone knows I’m five inches tall so I can’t just say that… Instead, I clear my throat and speak as loudly as I can muster. I’ve never been shy, so the words spill out almost easily.

“I’m Marcus and I have a twin brother called Cameron, I’ve had cancer but I’m in the clear, I like the TV show, How I Met Your Mother, I’ve never been out of Kingaroy, and I do heaps of parkour and free running.” I say evenly, the hint of a smile touching my lips. I’m well aware that the whole class is staring at me again, but I don’t really mind. Mrs Lewis smiles warmly down at me from her seat before she turns her attention to the rest of the class.

“Ok, before we discuss our assessment, let’s play a few games.” My heart sinks. If they’re playing any type of game, then I can’t participate. One of the many perks of being a midget. I’m too small to even lift a tennis ball, for one, and if I decided to play soccer or something, I’d be squashed. “The first game we’ll play is called Pistol Pete.”

I force myself to tune out as the teacher explains the rules. I have a hunch that she knows I can’t play. Mr Scandinovi told me earlier this morning that mum noted in my files that I’m excused from any sports, music or game related activities that involve ‘touching, moving around the classroom or even moving at all’. It sucks, I know, but if I want to live to see another day, then I have to stay on the sidelines.

Thomas places me gently back onto the desk with the tissues on it while the rest of the students play what Mrs Lewis calls ‘Pistol Pete’. I roll onto my stomach to watch as my classmates pretend to shoot each other, and make uncomfortably loud banging noises as they fire their literal hand guns.

I’m almost asleep again by the time the games are over. I resorted to trying to find all the green things in the classroom to pass time, and I think I got to forty before my eyelids drooped. I pry my eyelids open though, when I see Thomas walking over to collect me. “Hey, Atomic Boy.” I smile up at him as he holds out a hand for me to climb onto. “Remind me again how I met you.”

Thomas laughs quietly as he lifts the hand I’m now sitting in to chest level and moves back over to his place in the circle.

“Alrighty then!” Mrs Lewis smiles as she addresses the class. “I think I should talk to you guys a little bit more about our assessment. Tomorrow we’ll be watching a short documentary on Melodrama, but for now let’s sort out some groups.” She points with her index finger to the students, as if counting us. I can’t even tell whether she counted me. “There are thirty of you here, so that means we can have five groups of six. I’ll divvy you all up now so we can get started.” She scans quickly over the class for a moment before nodding to herself. “Ok, Annabelle, Kevin, Marcus, George, Thomas and Kellie. You’re the first group.”

I’m with the Burger Boy! I almost laugh out loud at that. Most importantly though, I’m with Thomas. I have a feeling that’s been arranged on purpose by the teacher, but I try not to think about it. Thomas stands up slowly, as if not to startle me, and meanders over to our little group. As it turns out, Annabelle and George are cousins who both have the same red hair and freckles, while Kellie is a chubby girl with glasses and a high ponytail. Kevin notices me and smiles showing his perfect teeth as Thomas sits down beside him and the others.

“Ok, what we’re going to do this term is perform our own Melodramas in these groups. You’ll each be given a premade script and will be expected to rehearse the lines for your part. These will be presented at the end of the term.” Mrs Lewis explains as she finishes dividing up the class. She produces a stack of crisp white booklets which I guess are our scripts and begins handing them out to the class members. I notice how every group receives a different script. When she reaches our group, my script is printed to fit the size of a business card, which is still like holding a full sized poster to me. Thomas and the others have regular sized sheets and as they scan their lines, I do the same.

I instantly regret it. “You’ve got to be kidding.” I let out a long sigh, causing my group mates to giggle. “This is sooooo rigged.” I mutter.

“You’re telling me!” Thomas laughs, using his index finger to nudge my stomach playfully. I kick the tree trunk sized digit away with my socked feet, to no avail. The printed words from my mini script flash before my eyes.

“Is it alright if I don’t play the role of Tom Thumb?” I ask hopefully.

It’s Kevin who answers. “Nope.” He says, popping the ‘p’.

I groan. This is going to be a long drama lesson.