As Lydia Connors settled down to finish her sleep, Phil sprung into action. A quick look revealed what he expected: he was under her blankets with her, staring directly at her slightly exposed midriff. Phil still wasn't used to this whole ordeal, but the crushing defeat he had last time he hesitated was still fresh, and so he began his march to his sister's head. Phil still believed that getting his family's attention was the best course of action. Of course, he wasn't sure what would happen after that... But he'd cross that bridge later.
The trek was long but easy, and so Phil made it to the titanic face without any interruptions. Standing back from her, Phil took a moment to try and grasp the enormity of the situation. Even at a distance of 10 yards, Phil could feel the light breaths of the sleeping freshman. He could smell them too, which helped get him on his way. Phil stepped up to Lydia's forehead and began to pound on it with all his might. "Lydia! Hey, wake up! I'm your brother, and I need your help!"
"Gimme... like five more... uhhh," Lydia mumbled, blowing hot morning breath all over Phil. "No," Phil shouted back. "I don't need you to go to school, I need you to help me! I can't be more than a centimeter tall, and... I don't know what to do." She mumbled a bit more, before flipping to her other side, leaving Phil feeling dejected and with a face full of her dark brown hair.
What was he going to do? He grabbed a strand of her hair, each one thicker than a pencil. He was so small, and so far out of his element. Even with his full strength, he couldn't wake up a girl who used to be so much shorter than him. Phil buried his head in his sister's curly locks and began to cry.
He spent the next few minutes like that, and in his fits, Phil managed to get himself securely wrapped in the rope-like hair. It was a Sunday, so Phil knew Lydia wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon, giving him plenty of time to mope and to think. And so he did. At 11:00, nearly five hours after his alarm first blared, their mother opened the door. Phil was cast in shadow as she stood over her daughter. "Mom... Help..." Phil's voice was weak, even weaker than before after the time in the strawberry-scented hair. He could only watch as Kyra gently put her hand on Lydia's shoulder and shook her gently awake. Phil was dragged up as Lydia lifted her head.
"Time to get up sweetie. It's already 11," Kyra said. With her eyes screwed shut at the light, Lydia replyed, "Fine. Give me a minute." This answer must have been acceptable, because the mother left after hearing it. As her bedroom door closed, Lydia shook her head in a feeble attempt to wake up. It was odd... She could almost feel something fall loose from her bed head...
As Lydia started to move her head, things began to get worse for our poor protagonist. The strands of hair lashed out and struck Phil after the slightest movement, and being this close to Lydia's head made her voice deafening. But the worst was yet to come. As soon as Phil heard the door close, the brown ropes that held him in place snapped back, flinging Phil through the air. He had no control over his flight, merely able to scream as the world spun around him. Within seconds, his body impacted onto a soft pink surface. Phil could tell that his left leg was hurt, possibly broken, but he had no time to ponder it as his sky darkened and he looked up into the sole of his sister.