Still slumped against the door, Eli dug his short nails into his exposed thigh, not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to slow his furious thoughts. Ally just had to go and say those things about Parker. It was as if she wanted him to be miserable. She’d never liked Zoey much either, never acknowledged her as his girlfriend. Maybe she’d even caused Zoey to dump him. Somehow. He wouldn’t put it past her.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, followed by Winter’s tentative voice. “Eli, I found a few things.”

He stood and cracked the door, just enough to hook his arm through, but not enough for her to enter or see him.

“Can I come in?” She deposited a stack of folded clothing onto his hand.

“No.” As he drew his arm back inside, his hand wobbled, and the clothes toppled to the floor. It wouldn’t have happened, but everything still felt so different. The doorknob, clothing, even the carpet under his feet, their individual fibers squishing under his skin. Sensations he wouldn’t have noticed in the past nudged into his consciousness — like experiencing the world anew in some parallel bizarro dimension.

“Here.” Winter shoved the vertical palette of clothes through the opening.

As soon as her hand withdrew, he shut the door, and examined his options. There weren’t many. A gray shirt with black lettering, jeans with more pockets than he could ever use, and a blue-green striped knit beanie. The only normal articles were the white socks and underwear although, upon closer inspection, the latter were of the feminine variety.

“Panties? Seriously?”

“I’ve never worn them! You said you’re my size, and they’re not pink.”

He pulled the jeans over his old boxers, and stuffed his bunched underwear back into place. Then he tightened the drawstring on his jeans. Since when did jeans have drawstrings? Still, they did a better job than the belt, and he only had to roll the cuffs up once to prevent them from dragging. After removing his baggy shirt, he donned the smaller gray shirt and stood in front of his mirror. The black lettering spelled WHATEVER, the W and the R appearing on right and left sleeves respectively. Not something he’d wear if given a choice, but he had to admit, she’d done a decent job overall.

“Can I come in now?” The door opened a hair. He’d forgotten to lock it.

“Yeh, I guess.” He picked up his phone and sat on the bed, noting that his big toe barely brushed the carpet.

“Really?” she asked excitedly, opening the door a smidge further. It was as if he’d said they were headed to Disney World.

“Yeh, just lock the door.” He’d had enough of Ally for one night.

“Ok.” The door opened and closed, and the lock on the knob clicked in place. He hadn’t received any new messages from Parker. Maybe she was busy. Should he text her again? He’d texted her last, so —

“Whoa.” Winter’s muted exclamation caused him to look up. She approached like a deer hunter, one dressed in shades of pink and purple, light blue socks tiptoeing as if to avoid snapping an imaginary twig and scaring the creature away. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a great idea to lock the door with her in the room.

“Stop being weird, or you’re leaving.” Better to assert dominance. She looked like she’d sprouted a foot taller, but she was still his little sister. He wasn’t about to start feeling intimidated by her. Not now. Not ever.

“Ok.” Her grin a mile wide, she hurried to the bed and sat down with a bounce, right beside him. The front pads of her feet touched the floor. Hopefully she didn’t notice.

“Whatcha doin?” She leaned over, invading his personal space. While certainly not a new behavior on her part, her proximity heralded a new sense of unease in him, as if she’d shoveled a fresh load of coal into some inner furnace of anxiety. The effect only intensified when she rested her chin on his shoulder.

“Do you mind?” He leaned away and stood, turning to face her. Standing, of course, had been a mistake. Promptly she stood too, moved her forehead close to his and placed a hand on top of his head.

“Ohmigosh!” she said, looking down slightly. “I’m taller!”

Her bubble gum breath caused him to withdraw a step. “News flash. I’ve got the shrink gene.”

“Stand here.” She took hold of his shoulders and moved him in front of the mirror. He let her do it. The faster she got this out of her system, the better. She stood adjacent to him, rigid like a post.

“Satisfied?” he asked. Eyeballing it, he could tell she was about an inch taller. Eerily, she looked a little larger too, as if her head and appendages were a fraction bigger. His brain couldn’t reconcile the person beside him with his little sister, who’d always seemed hopelessly small for her age. How could he be smaller than her now? If this feeling of...dysphoria (he recalled the term from his readings last week) was this bad now, how bad would it get?

“We need measurements for YouTube.” She stepped behind him, then elevated on her tiptoes to stare at herself over his head.

“I already said no.”

“This — is — nuts!” Her arms wrapped around him in a reverse bearhug. “You’re just soooooo — ”

“Let go.” He twisted but she had a good grip, her hands locked together, her arms pressing his tight against his sides.

“Break free,” she said jovially, just behind his ear.

“No.” In spite of saying otherwise, he did make an attempt, but couldn’t budge his arms. She couldn’t know how hard he was trying. She had to be using leverage or some trick of physics, as he doubted she was actually stronger than him. “Let go.”

“You’re trying aren’t you? I can tell.” She leaned back, lifting him off his feet a couple inches before setting him back down. “I can even pick you up now.”

If he couldn’t brute force his way out of this, he’d simply outsmart her. Leaning to the left with all his weight, he pushed off with his legs, sending them both falling sideways onto the bed. She broke out into a fit of giggles, interrupted when she spit air into the back of his head, likely from catching some of his hair in her mouth. Although she didn’t release him, he’d shifted in her embrace, affording him a one-sided tickle attack. This, of course, granted immediate freedom.

The freedom was short-lived as she quickly rolled over and pinned his wrists to the bed with her hands. Fortune must’ve graced her with yet another miracle of physics — he couldn’t pry his arms away from her sweaty grip. He could kick her, but that wouldn’t end well. The one time he’d hurt her during a wrestling match, an arm bar gone awry, he’d felt terrible for a week.

It didn’t matter anyway. The opportunity to kick disappeared when she vaulted her entire body on top of him, landing on his chest and stomach with her shins and knees, toes tucked under, sitting on her heels. In the past, when she’d do this, he’d simply roll over. This time, it was as if she was crushing him, and he could barely manage a breath.

“Say uncle.” Though red faced and breathing hard, she nevertheless smiled, raw determination in her blue eyes.

“Uncle!” He whisper shouted the word, afraid he’d suffocate if he remained under her weight for much longer. Hopefully, she’d just be happy she won and not notice how close she’d come to actually hurting him.

Satisfied, she hopped off and released his wrists, adopting the same tucked kneeling position adjacent to him. He coughed, and sat up, feigning annoyance instead of showing his real feelings (what were they anyway?). Though she didn’t say anything, her radiant face spoke volumes — “I win!”, clear as day. She’d probably been waiting ages to do that. She’d never beaten him in a wrestling match. Might as well let her enjoy the victory.

“I’m going to mow the lawn.” He took a deep breath and got to his feet.

“Wait!” She reached for his arm, but he stepped away, entirely done with wrestling for the day. “You didn’t say anything about the clothes. Do you like them?”

He straightened his shirt in the mirror. “Whatever?”

“Mom and I tried really hard to find stuff you’d like.” She employed her ‘troubled’ expression, eyebrows dipping slightly, lips straightening, eyes pleading. As irritating as she was, he couldn’t dismiss that particular face.

“You did good.”

She brightened a little, but glanced at the pile of clothes remaining by the door. “What about the underwear and socks.

“Those are panties.”

“So.” She hopped up fast, so fast he flinched. Why had he flinched? Thankfully, she didn’t notice and went straight for the panties, lifting them up and stretching them a couple times at the waist. “They look like boys underwear.”

Determined not to be afraid of her (who could possibly be afraid of Winter?), he marched over and picked up the socks, then returned to his bed. “I like the socks.” He donned the left sock. Slightly loose, but it would do the job.

“What’s wrong with these? They even say Hanes.” She flipped a little gray tag on the waistline as proof.

“I don’t care if they say...Ninja Warrior.” He pulled on the other sock. “When you get older, you’ll understand.”

“Oh please! We watched the video on puberty in class already. I know all about boys...things.” She seemed to be getting a little flustered, but it didn’t stop her. “I’ve worn some of your old boxers before, the ones you outgrew. And these” — she dangled the panties — “have never been worn. I promise!”

“Ok. First of all, don’t wear my stuff. Ever. Second, you’re insanely weird. Third, they could be fresh off the factory line. I’m still never going to wear them.”

She scanned him with her eyes, tossing yet another shovel full of coal into his inner furnace of discomfort. Then, she stepped toward him. “Give me one reason.”

Or what? He didn’t even want to consider the possibilities. She took another ominous step. It was now or never. He had to make his stand or she’d discover something. Discover what? Perhaps on some level, in some dark recess of his brain, his subconscious feared her. Just a little, but if she discovered it, knowing her, she’d take advantage. Somehow.

He rose defiantly, walked right up to her, and gave her the best reason of all. “Because.”

She stared at him, sugary breath permeating the air in the immediate vicinity, even though whatever gum she’d chewed had long since disappeared. He mentally prepared an escape if she tried to grab him, but he didn’t flinch this time. He couldn’t. Too much was on the line.

The seconds stretched until, finally, her face crumpled into a pout, and she tossed the undergarments to the floor. “Fine.”

Victory! And an educational one at that. He simply had to speak to her sternly, not showing an ounce of fear — something he should be able to do no matter how small he got. Practicing would build his confidence in other situations. He’d learned a new secret to surviving in this changing world, and he intended to make use of it.

“But why I can’t wear your clothes when I get bigger.” She crossed her arms. “It’s not like you’re going to wear them anymore.”

He sighed. Might as well let her have an empty win. “Go ahead. Just not my boxers.” He went straight for the door, eager to escape this claustrophobic situation.

“Ok.” She tailed him. “I didn’t like them much anyway. They’re not nearly as comfortable as panties. If you’d try them, you’d know.”

She really didn’t want to drop the topic. Even for her, this was...wait...

“Please don’t say the only underwear you bought me was panties.” He made a beeline for her room, nearly tripping over his backpack which still lay in the hallway.

“Of course not.” She was right on his heels, like a starving bear cub, already far too big for safe human interaction. “I just didn’t get much in my size because I figured you’d wear some of my clothes...if they looked like boy clothes.”

“You figured wrong.” Her room smelled like rancid perfume, something akin to dead roses. A tri-fold display, like those used for science projects, rested at the foot of her bed. Pink letters spelled The Bubble Experiment across the top. Balloons and pictures of her blowing gum bubbles adorned the center.

“Wanna see my project?” She lifted the display so that it stood vertically. A circular cutout containing the hypothesis fell to the sheets. “Oops.” She lay the floppy exhibit back down and grabbed a Scotch tape dispenser. “Whaddya think? I did it all by myself.”

He read the question section. Which gum blows the biggest bubble? She even had a couple of bar graphs. One depicted average bubble diameter in inches for various brands of gum.

“Actually, it’s pretty impressive.”

“Really?” She paused her repairwork to study him. “You think so?”

“Yeh.” Although eye bleedingly colorful, it seemed quite professional, or at least interesting. “You did this by yourself?”

“Well, Ally helped measure the bubbles. But I chewed all the gum, and it wasn’t easy. I had to chew five pieces of each flavor and my mouth got sore.”

No wonder she smelled like a candy machine. “But you did these graphs and all this writing?” He pointed to the results and conclusion sections.

“Um,” she began sheepishly. “Ally helped with some of it.”

He figured if he continued prying, he’d discover Ally had helped with all of it. If there was one thing that annoyed him more than Winter’s antics, it was Ally’s...perfectness. She made everything school-related look easy. Come time for report cards, he wanted to be nowhere near Mom’s verbal praises of her.

“You really had to chew thirty pieces?” he asked. Better to focus on the positive.

“Yep! I had to chew each piece for twenty-five seconds, and blow perfect bubbles every time.” She finished taping the hypothesis, a little lopsided, but not enough to detract from the overall appearance.

“So, where are my clothes?” He looked at Ally’s perfectly made bed, a sharp contrast to Winter’s wrinkled and lumpy comforter.

“Over here.” She bounded on top of Ally’s bed and spread her arms wide, like a circus ringleader presenting the next act. He headed over and saw the line of clothing piles, each neatly labeled with paper signs stuck to the adjacent wall: 5”, 4’6”, 4’, 3’6”, 3’, 2’6” and 2’ in purple ink. The area under 4’6” was empty but the others were stacked over a foot high with folded clothes.

What about when he shrunk under two feet tall? He didn’t want to ask.

“Alright.” He knelt and reached for the first stack. “Let’s move them to my room.”

“No!” She jumped down and stomped her foot on top of the contested pile. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She pressed her lips together, but didn’t lift her foot.

He knew that look. She was hiding something.

“Because?” Good thing she couldn’t keep a secret. At all. Usually he didn’t even need to pry, she confided in him without him even asking or wanting to know.

“I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Tell me.”

“Ok. But, promise you won’t tell Ally I told you that you're moving in here.”

“What?” His mouth fell open. “Who said?”

“She said you’d need someone to help you, as you got smaller. We can’t leave you alone in your room because what if you needed help at night. No one would know. We wouldn’t be able to hear you in a different room. This way, I’ll be able to help you whenever you need it. It’s going to be fun, Eli. Just wait — hey — “

She took hold of his arm as he tried to walk away. “You can’t tell Ally. You promised.”

He jerked his arm free and took off down the hallway and into the living room. Ally sat on the couch, thumbing away on her phone, obvious to the world. The Walking Dead still played on Netflix, though it must be a rerun because she paid it no attention.

“I’m not moving into your room!”

Ally pretended to ignore him. Winter took a seat at the far end of the couch, behind him. She curled up, legs against her chest, chin on her knees. “I don’t like it when you guys fight.”

“We’re not fighting,” he said, taking a breath. “I’m just telling her what’s going to happen. I’m staying in my room. She’s staying in her room. Period. End of story.”

“Did you hear something, Winter?” Ally cast a glance in the direction of her sister. “I thought I heard Eli, but it couldn’t possibly be him. He’s never speaking to me again. I must be imagining it.”

“Hilarious.” He watched as she went right back to her smartphone. No wonder Winter hated that phone so much. It made her seem like a regal monarch lording over her fiefdom. “Fine. I just came to give you the news I’m staying in my room.”

Finally, she looked up, but her eyes lingered a bit too long, the hint of a smirk forming. Was it his clothing? Or did she know something he didn’t?

“I’m going to mow the lawn.” He stepped away. Manual labor would —

“No, you’re not.” Ally said, matter-of-factly, causing him to face her again. “We hired a company. They’ll mow it tomorrow.”

“Whatever.” Might as well make the most of his shirt’s slogan. “I’ll mow it right now. Save Mom the money.”

“Eli.” She set her phone down and stretched her arms over her head. “You won’t even be able to start it. We haven't used it for months. Even if we had, you’re…” She looked him up and down, like a feudal lord examining a potential slave for physical aptitude.

“I’m what?”

“Just...you won’t be able to start it. Trust me.”

She stifled a yawn, then spoke again. “It wasn’t my decision to move into your bedroom. I couldn’t care less. It was Mom’s decision.”

“What!” He shook his head. She had to be lying. “If that’s true, why didn’t she tell me?”

“If you haven’t noticed, you’ve been sleeping a lot lately. She was going to tell you tonight.”

“That’s bullshit. I — I’m just going to tell her no.”

“Suit yourself.” She picked up her stupid phone again, and he lost it. He leaned over and swiped it from her.

“Snapchat?” he asked. “Is this what you do all day?”

“Give it back.” She extended her hand.

“Miss high and mighty, Snapchatting her fake friends? Let’s see who we have — ”

Suddenly, Ally rose to her feet. And by rise, he meant rise, a full head above him. “Give it back.” She repeated, this time a hint of anger in her tone. “I won't ask again.”

“Give it back, Eli,” Winter pleaded.

He took a step backwards, but she grabbed his shoulder, painfully, then shoved him sideways onto the couch. After taking hold of his arm, she jerked the phone from his fingers with uncanny strength. She pocketed her phone but didn’t stop squeezing his forearm, and it was starting to hurt.

“Let go.” He pried at her fingers but they encircled his arm like cables, digging further the more he struggled.

“You have no right to get angry at me.” Ally leaned in, her long hair brushing against his legs, her too-flowery perfume invading his senses. “Like I said, it wasn’t my decision. But I agree with Mom. You’re a premie, Eli. You’re not normal. You don’t need a normal sized room. You can’t use a normal sized lawn mower. And pretty soon, you won’t even be able to use the bathroom or eat without help. The sooner you come to understand your new place in the world, the better.”

“Let him go.” Winter cried. “You’re hurting him.”

Ally’s eyes went to his arm and she released him, then retreated a step. He swallowed, then blinked hard, determined not to show any sign of weakness. He scooted off the couch and ran for the stairs, clambering down them as fast as he could. By the time he reached the garage, his vision had blurred to the point of uselessness.

He wiped his eyes and punched the button to open the garage door. After rolling the yellow mower out of the garage and into the fading sunlight, he paused, trying to remember the steps. With shaking hands, he filled the tank with gas and primed it. The push mower was huge to him now, but it was self-propelled. He needed only to start it, and so help him, he’d start it or die trying.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t use both hands. With one hand holding the throttle down on the handlebar, he yanked the cord with his free hand, but it was like pulling in slow motion. The engine didn’t even turn. Again and again, he yanked with all his strength until the handle whipped out of his sore fingers, spooling back to its original position against the engine.

He hated her, truly hated her. But she was right. He couldn’t even start a lawn mower anymore. Soon he wouldn’t be able...he wouldn’t be able to do all those other things she mentioned. Because he wasn’t normal. There were a couple million premies in the United States alone, but that by no means made him normal. It by no means made him equal to the hundreds of millions of normal people. He was a freak, afflicted by some genetic disorder that no one really understood, destined to live or die at the whim of giants, of tyrants like Ally.

He sat on the driveway, knees up, and buried his face in his arms. At least he still had Parker, but what if Ally was right about her too? What if she merely saw him as a freak, as a future toy, or something worse? He couldn’t have a normal relationship with her, could he? Of course not. He wasn’t normal. He’d never be —

“Eli.”

A hand on his back. He peeked out to see Ally kneeling there beside him.

“Go away!”

“I’m sorry, Eli. I didn’t mean — ”

“I hate you!” He buried his face again.

She removed her hand and said nothing for a while, but he could tell she hadn’t left. Then she spoke, softly. Painfully. “I — I hate myself too. For what I did. I didn’t mean it. You are normal.”

“No I’m not! I can’t even start the lawn mower. You’re right. I’m a freak. I’m — “

“You’re not a freak. You’re” — her voice cracked — “you’re one of the coolest people I know. And I’m not just saying that. You — “

“I can’t even start it!” He kicked the stupid mower’s wheel, hoping to send it careening down the driveway, but failing to move it an inch. Then, he rose and wiped his face. “I’m useless and becoming more useless every day. Mom can’t afford to pay for a lawn service. That’s my job. What about taking out the trash and cleaning and — you said I won’t even be able to —” He couldn’t finish the sentence, his throat so constricted it wouldn’t let his tongue utter another syllable.

Ally stood slowly, her own face streaked, then pulled him into a hug. It was the exact opposite of what he wanted from his hated sibling, but at the same time, it was exactly what he needed. She held him close as he bawled into her chest, and he almost confused her with Mom. In many ways, she was Mom because his real mom was never around. Perhaps that’s why he resented her so much; she reminded him of and often took the place of the parent he missed the most.

“I didn’t mean any of those things I said.” She cradled the back of his head, holding him closer. “You’ll still be able to do most things, even if you don’t go to Premoria. Who cares if you can’t take out the trash or mow the lawn anymore.” Her voice softened further. “You’re kind hearted. You sing like an angel. And you’re the best big brother a sister could hope for.” She sighed. “I’ve been a bitch and I’m really, really sorry. When you mentioned Parker, I got overprotective. I — I still don’t trust her, but I won’t get in your way. Just be careful and promise me if she does anything, anything, against your will, you’ll tell me.”

By the time she finished speaking, he’d stopped crying, feeling somewhat foolish for being unable to contain his emotions. However, he still felt much better in her arms, his hatred replaced by a much softer feeling, akin to love, yet entirely different than what he felt for Parker. Ally had opened up to him, a lot, and he appreciated it more than he could express.

“I promise.”

They cuddled for a while longer, then she held him at arm's length, a weary smile on her face. “By the way, I think you shrank today.”

“Ya think?” He laughed through his nose, causing a bit of mucus to come out, which he promptly wiped on the sleeve of his shirt.

Ignoring the mucus, she rolled up his sleeve and winced at the finger-like marks on his arm. “Oh no! Eli...” She traced her fingers across the marks. “Does it hurt?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Mom.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll tell her. I never should’ve done that.”

“Don’t.” He couldn’t stand the suffering in her eyes. Almost worse than when Winter gave him her characteristic look. “Seriously, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I’ll never do it again. I promise.”

The thought crossed his mind — if she’d squeezed him that hard at his final size, he’d be dead — but he dare not speak it out loud. It would crush her far worse than the fear it stoked in his chest. He’d simply have to learn to live with his fears because if his family started walking on eggshells around him, he’d detest it even worse.

He grabbed the mower and, with Ally’s help, lugged it and the gas tank back into the garage. They shut the door and headed inside, just in time to hear Winter rummaging around upstairs. She’d probably spied on them the entire time from the window.

“Oh,” he said as they ascended the stairs. “You didn’t mean that thing you said about the bathroom, did you?”

She laughed. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Well...yeh.” How could he not be worried about it.

“Like I said, you’ll be able to do most things just fine. So don’t concern yourself. Now, we still have a few minutes before Mom gets home. How about a quick YouTube session?”

She’d changed the subject, but at least she’d answered his question. Kind of. She probably didn’t have all the answers herself yet. She often pretended to know more than she did, awe-inspiringly overconfident, as if God had granted her his rightful portion of confidence in life.

Still, she’d made him feel much better today, as she had a strange way of doing, often by telling him what he needed to hear instead of what he wanted to hear. Sometimes drinking vile medicine was the only way to cure an illness, and Ally dealt in such medicines as needed, a pharmacist of words so to speak.

“Ok.” He followed her up the final steps. “Only if it’s fast and not too embarrassing.”

“Awesome.” She pulled out her phone and flashed him a smile. “It’ll be fast.”