The debate classroom buzzes with post-argument energy as you and Angie Phillips stand at opposite podiums, both of you red-faced and gesturing emphatically. The rest of the debate team watches with the weary familiarity of spectators who've seen this particular show too many times before.

"Carter, you can't seriously believe your closing statement salvaged that train wreck of an argument," Angie says, her blonde ponytail swinging as she shakes her head. "Your entire premise about educational reform was built on a logical fallacy." 

"That's rich coming from someone who cited a study that was debunked three years ago," you fire back, gathering your notes with perhaps more force than necessary. The familiar rhythm of arguing with Angie feels almost comforting, you always know what to expect from one another.

Morgan, with her vibrant red hair pulled back in a messy bun, steps between you both. "Guys, can we save round fifty-seven of the Ben-Angie showdown for tomorrow? Ms. Harmon already left, and I promised Dustin I'd help him with the AV equipment before his gaming club meeting."

You're about to respond when your phone vibrates in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see a text from an unknown number: "Benjamin Carter, your application to Tiny Treatments has been accepted. Starting salary $22/hr. Orientation tomorrow at 4pm. Reply Y to confirm."

Your heart skips. Twenty-two dollars an hour is at least double what any other part-time job would pay. The shrinking thing is weird, sure, but anonymity is guaranteed, and your family really needs the money, things have been kind of hard lately with your mom and sister working extra shifts to make ends meet. You really want... no, you need to help out and make life a bit easier, for both of them.

"Hello? Earth to Benjamin?" You see Angie in front of you with an annoying expression, waving a hand in front of your face. "I wasn't finished explaining why your argument was fundamentally flawed."

"Save it for regionals, Phillips," you say, already typing 'Y' and hitting send. "Some of us have actual responsibilities to attend to." You kind of regret the harsh use of words after you said it, but you can't take it back now. As far as you know, Angie is pretty wealthy, unlike you. She wouldn't understand what you're going through.

Angie's eyes narrow slightly, something flickering behind them that might be hurt before hardening back to annoyance. "Whatever, Carter. Running away when you're losing? Typical."

You're already heading for the door, mind racing with thoughts of how you'll explain this job to your mom. The reply comes instantly: "Welcome aboard! Orientation materials attached. Remember, discretion is valued at Tiny Treatments. Your clients will never know who you are unless you choose to tell them." I get to work anonymously? Oh thank god. I'd hate for anyone to recognize me in there. The job pays well but being three inches tall tending to some person's foot isn't exactly glamorous work. Certainly not something I could brag to my friends about, I don't like keeping things from them but this would have to be my secret for now.

As you push through the classroom door, you hear Savannah's voice behind you: "What's got him in such a hurry?"

"Probably realized I was right, as usual" Angie's voice carries down the hallway. Even from this distance you can hear her usual condescending scoff. On any other day you wouldn't have let her off easy but today's different.

You're annoyed but you don't turn back. The weight of your family's overdue bills is heavier than any debate loss could ever be. Tomorrow, you'll officially start the path to become a three-inch-tall service provider at some high-end salon. The thought makes your stomach twist with a mixture of embarrassment and relief, but this is something you have to do. At least no one from school would ever find out, right?