Matt’s world rocked with every step, the overwhelming motion of Jasmine’s walking shaking him to his core. He clung desperately to the fibers of her sock, his entire body aching from exhaustion. The sweltering heat inside the Croc drained what little strength he had left, his muscles twitching involuntarily as he fought to stay conscious. Tears streamed down his face, not just from physical pain but from the crushing hopelessness that had settled in his chest. The noise outside had long since blurred into a meaningless hum. Whistles, conversations, the echo of footsteps, it all melted away as his mind focused on one singular thought: surviving.
Then, suddenly, the motion stopped. A moment of calmness washed over him as Jasmine stood still, her foot shifting slightly but no longer moving forward. He sucked in a shaky breath, taking whatever relief he could get. The heat still pressed in around him, the humid air thick with the scent of sweat and warm rubber, but at least he wasn’t being battered by the constant, jarring impact of her steps. For a few precious seconds, he simply laid there, collapsed on top of her foot, too weak to do anything else.
But the peace didn’t last. Without warning, Jasmine started walking again. The violent motions returned, and Matt was once more forced to cling on for dear life. His fingers burned from gripping the rough cotton of her sock, and his tiny body slammed repeatedly against the fabric with each thunderous step. The sound around him grew louder, voices overlapping in a chaotic mix that told him exactly where they were. They had entered the gym. The tournament was about to begin.
The footsteps finally stopped again, and Matt gasped in relief. He could hear the team shuffling around, chatting excitedly, unzipping their bags as they prepared for the game. He wanted to believe that this would be his chance, that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way out. But before he could even attempt to move, a sudden jolt sent him flying forward, throwing him off balance.
Jasmine had casually kicked off her Croc, the simple motion sending him spiraling out of control. He tried to hold on, to keep his grip on her sock, but his strength had long since faded. His tiny, battered body slipped free, the thick fabric peeling away from his skin as gravity took hold. He plunged downward, flailing uselessly in the air before crashing onto the cold, unforgiving gym floor.
A sharp jolt of pain ripped through his body, his lungs tightening as the impact knocked the breath from him. His muscles twitched uncontrollably, too weak to respond to his frantic mind screaming at him to move. He groaned, dazed, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of the gymnasium. For a brief, blissful moment, he simply lay there, gasping, trying to gather his bearings.
Slowly, he lifted his head, his breath hitching in his throat as his vision adjusted to the massive world around him. His body went rigid, paralyzed by the towering figures surrounding him, stretching endlessly into the sky. The very girls he once coached, the same players who once looked up to him, now dwarfed him completely, moving with casual, unthinking ease. Each shift of their weight sent deep, trembling vibrations through the ground beneath him, shaking his tiny frame with every unconscious step.
All around him, thick, powerful legs flexed and tensed, the toned muscles rippling beneath smooth, athletic skin. Sneakers slammed down with heavy thuds, the rubber soles squeaking sharply against the floor as the girls shifted their weight. Socked feet hovered and settled, toes flexing absentmindedly within the soft fabric, heels lifting only to press down again. Each motion, no matter how insignificant it seemed to them, felt like a looming disaster waiting to strike. If even one of them took a single step in the wrong direction, if one unaware foot shifted out of place, his entire existence would end in an instant, flattened beneath their soles without them even realizing.
His heart pounded in his chest as he forced his aching body to move. His limbs trembled, his muscles burning from exhaustion as he stumbled to his feet, barely able to stay upright. Every instinct in him screamed to act fast, to make them see him before it was too late. But just as he took his first shaky step forward, a deafening, earth-shaking boom erupted behind him, sending a powerful tremor through the floor that knocked him off his feet.
He whipped his head around just in time to see a massive pair of socked toes planted before him, twitching ever so slightly as they curled and flexed. The thick white fabric stretched tight, clinging to every curve of her toes. The faint pink hue of skin peeked through the tiny weaves of the material, the ridges of her toenails barely visible beneath the snug cotton. He craned his neck upward, his gaze following the towering legs that stretched endlessly into the sky, past the hem of familiar volleyball shorts, up to the colossal figure standing over him.
Amber. She stood tall, relaxed, completely at ease. Her sharp, focused eyes swept across the gym, her face calm, indifferent, as if nothing at all were out of place. In one hand, she lazily gripped her volleyball shoes, the laces swinging back and forth with each slight motion of her wrist. She shifted her weight absently, her socked foot lifting just a fraction before settling back down with an effortless, thoughtless motion, one that could have easily obliterated him without a second thought.
Matt’s pulse skyrocketed. This was his chance. If she just looked down, just for a second, she would see him. She would realize what had happened, and he would finally be saved.
He jumped, flailing his arms with every ounce of strength left in his battered body. “Amber! Down here! Look down here! Amber!” he screamed, his voice cracking with raw desperation.
But the gym swallowed his cries. The sharp shriek of whistles, the rubbery squeaks of sneakers skidding across the polished wood, the relentless thuds of volleyballs striking the floor, the endless murmur of athletes, coaches, and referees, all of it blended into an overwhelming storm of noise, drowning him out entirely.
Amber didn’t react. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even glance downward. Instead, she turned her head toward Jasmine, tossing out an offhanded comment that Matt couldn’t even begin to make out over the deafening noise. Her expression remained calm, her posture completely relaxed, utterly unaware of the inch-tall man standing helplessly beneath her.
He spun frantically, his wild, panicked eyes darting up toward Jasmine. But she wasn’t looking down either. Her focus was elsewhere, her posture relaxed, completely at ease. She stood there, chatting with Amber, casually shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the soft fabric of her white socks creasing and flexing with each subtle motion. She had no idea that the man she had unknowingly carried inside her shoe was now stranded at her feet.
Matt whipped his head around, searching desperately for anyone, anyone at all, who might see him. But no matter where he looked, every girl was completely lost in their own routine.
Just ahead, Jenna sat on the floor, her long legs stretched out in front of her as she leaned forward, tying the laces of her sneakers. Her fingers worked quickly, her focus entirely on her task, never once bothering to glance around.
A few feet away, Nicole stood balanced on one leg, pulling the other behind her in a slow, fluid stretch before switching sides. Her massive frame shifted, her powerful muscles tensing and relaxing as she adjusted her balance. But her gaze remained level, scanning the gym ahead of her. Never downward. Never toward him.
Nearby, Maddie knelt beside her duffel bag, her fingers rifling through its contents, searching for whatever she needed. She muttered something under her breath, pushing aside a water bottle and a spare jersey before pulling out her kneepads. With a quick motion, she slid them over her legs, her hands tightening the straps before diving back into her bag. Her mind was elsewhere, her thoughts occupied with preparation. She didn’t even glance up.
All around him, his players were scattered in small groups, talking, adjusting their uniforms, securing their kneepads. Some bounced lightly on their feet, testing their shoes against the slick gym floor. Others stretched their arms, rolling their shoulders in preparation for the match ahead. A few scanned the gym, their eyes wandering across the crowd, the court, the bleachers, but never the floor. Never toward the inch-tall man frantically trying to get their attention.
Matt’s chest tightened. He was right there, right at their feet, and not a single one of them had noticed. How was he supposed to get help from any of them… when they didn’t even know he existed?