I haven’t lost control and shrunk in almost a month. The last time it happened, I was back underground where nothing mattered. So naturally, I made the trek to the ‘yellow sector’ and let my pain and suffering out there, where being four inches tall and quite frankly pissed off was the norm. The yellows never mind us greens spending some time in their sector to cool off.

 Yellows and greens are connected, in a way. We’re both vulnerable to the outside world, and that’s what connects us. In fact, Andrew James Lawson himself has been the only yellow in history to brave it all and make a living amongst the humans. It’s why he’s one of the most famous Nazarees in existence: He’s done something no yellow has ever risked doing before, and that is fitting in. Faking normality. A feat that only an indigo could do without freaking the world out, really.

And naturally, it’s the Nazaree race’s role model himself who will witness my mental breakdown… from the height and power of a human.

Lucky me…

It’s been a long time since I’ve shrunken in public. I know the warning signs, as expected. The frantic buzzing and pulsing coming from my left wrist, where the monitor has been surgically inserted. As I said, it’s disguised as a wristwatch, but honestly, who does it fool? The shrinking doesn’t hurt, either. It’s sort of relieving, actually, like someone’s popped the fragile balloon of my human-sized self and let my feelings out into the world. My body erupts in its usual tingles, like pins and needles, actually, before it simply… contracts.

Clothes don’t come with the deal, to say the least. When I shrink, they simply flop to the ground, no longer filled out by a body. But it’s not so bad: the naked part of the shrinking is actually one of the few green trademarks I’ve managed to thwarter. Well… technically it was a witch who fixed that dilemma for me. My witch, to be exact. Dana Evernight. I was lucky enough to earn her sympathy, a few months after being cursed, and was offered a gift that would not only make life easier, but it would mean that I’d know exactly when I would shrink, and give me enough time to prevent an episode.

That’s right. The Monitor.

Dana invented it two years ago, for my sixteenth birthday. She visited me in my room underground and told me what it could do to improve my situation. Now, technically, a witch is prohibited from helping their Nazaree adjust, or in my case stay sane, however since the monitor was only designed to keep tabs on the ‘level’ of my emotions, it was passed. In other words, neither I nor Dana would be blasted to smithereens if caught.

So basically, on my sixteenth birthday, the Monitor became a part of me, quite literally. The only way for it to function right, according to Dana, was to have it permanently attached to a part of my body, via four thin needles, which would both keep tabs on my emotions through the nerve cells, and pump happy juices into my body if necessary. And you’d probably ask yourself at this point: But wouldn’t the physical pain from the needles trigger a shrinking episode? Well, not really. Because for two years now, I haven’t had any feeling in my left arm, up to my elbow. One of the programs of my monitor is actually to suppress pain receptors, and that meant permanently cutting off all nerve cells within its vicinity, to avoid the needles causing any physical pain. I can move and operate my hand just fine, but if someone were to touch me, or even stab me there, I wouldn’t even register.

And again, you’d ask yourselves: Why not just get all your nerve cells destroyed, so physical pain wouldn’t be an issue anymore? It’s a totally fair statement, and I’m happy to accept anyone’s opinion there, but the truth is, I enjoy pain. Without it, it would be like taking away the one part of me that is still somewhat human. Yes, I’m a green and am afraid of feeling pain, but it has become part of who I am. And while most of my green friends have opted to remove their pain receptors, it seems wrong to me.

The monitor is an exception to that.

But anyway, on the topic of clothing me while shrunk, that’s the final thing it does. As my body retracts in size before my very eyes, it lets off a greenish glow (yep, the colour was programmed to my own taste) which spreads across my entire body, before disappearing and leaving a slick, black bodysuit in place. Not the most fashionable item on the market but who’s complaining?

And that’s exactly what happens with Andrew Lawson. I shrink, get lost in a sea of my own human sized clothes and flick a switch on the side of my monitor which activates the suit. Each movement is fluid and practiced… and hardly something I ever wanted to demonstrate to Andrew Lawson himself. As my shrinking comes to a halt, I bite my lip to avoid swearing and rub my temples in embarrassment. My world is a faint orange colour, from the light seeping through the human clothes my shrunken self is concealed within. I can hear Ava’s now rumbling snores from close by. I hope she wasn’t hurt, being dropped like that during my episode.

I don’t think that’s something you should be worrying about, Cole. I think dryly.

Meanwhile from the world of humans, I hear Andrew Lawson muttering to himself, and despite my situation, stifle a laugh.

“Holy crap… I just pissed off a green… What do I do now? He’s shrunken down on me… well, at least he can meet me in person now…” And then in a quieter voice: “Cole?”

Cussing under my breath, I scramble around for a moment in the torrent of thick material in search of an opening. After a few seconds of awkwardness, I break through the sleeve of my hoodie and step out into the open, only to have a chilling wind course through me. Man… it wasn’t this cold before… I think. That’s because you were six foot tall instead of four inches, dumbass.

“Cole?” Andrew Lawson booms, and I wonder for a brief moment how he can project his tiny yellow’s voice through the mouth of a giant robot with such amplitude. Does he realise how intimidating it is for me to stand before a giant/human sized being/robot? Of course he does, Cole. He’s a yellow.

Sighing under my breath at my logic, I crane my neck to stare up at the colossal, skyscraper high figure of Andrew Lawson. “Yeah…” I say, a little louder than normally so that he can hear my voice. “Shit, this is a bad time…”

Andrew’s robot lips creep into a smile. “It’s cool.” He says, gaze fixed not on me but on the unconscious form of Ava, now lying motionless on the damp pavement. “I doubt your ‘sister’ would agree with me, though.” He adds. I force myself to chuckle a little at the comment. My neck is already sore from staring up at the yellow’s face (something I never thought I’d do, let me tell you!).

“She’s not really my sister, you know.” I call up to him.

His trademark knowing smile returns in an instant. “Figured. You know, that sort of cover story only works on humans.” He says.

I roll my eyes. “Well, if I’d have known you were Andrew Lawson beforehand, maybe the scenario would have been different.”

The giant version of my role model lets out an awkward sigh. “I knew those sunnies were a bad idea.” He mutters.

“Why’d you have them on, anyways?” I ask, looking down for a moment to relieve my neck.

Andrew’s giant shoulders shrug lightly. “To hide my face, mostly. I figured out just yesterday that I was a mental disorder. Not the nicest feeling to go to sleep with.”  He says.

“You didn’t know about the Andrew Lawson Disorder?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Nope. And by the way, how do you know my name?” He replies, frowning a little.

I feel myself blushing a little at the question. “It’s a long story…” I say quietly.

We’re silent for a minute, and then Andrew clears his throat. “Well… that’s not a problem.” He says slowly. “We do have all day, after all.”

And before I can let out a cry of protest, his tree trunk sized fingers wrap around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides and silencing me. With swift movements, the giant yellow lifts my struggling form to the height of a skyscraper, to hover right before his open mouth. “Just hold still for a moment…” Andrew says, and I realise with a jolt that his lips are no longer moving with his voice. Pursing my lips, I force myself to stop writhing around in the hand that holds me still.

“Thanks.” Andrew Lawson’s voice says, before dropping me into the robot’s open mouth…