I let out a faint yelp as I’m dropped helplessly into Andrew Lawson’s robotic mouth. I land smack bang in the middle of a strangely dry, pillow-like tongue that’s clearly not real. The walls around it look almost like drapes of pink flesh coloured towel. And rather than staring down into a gaping throat that drips with hot saliva, all I see is a jumble of random wires, seemingly connected to the robot’s tongue. Intrigued, I forget the fact that I’ve just been dropped into a yellow’s mouth and crawl over to the end of the spongy tongue, the roof of the mouth far too low for me to stand upright in.

Squinting, I realise that the walls of the robot’s mouth around me are actually moist with some kind of saliva-like substance that shines as beads of it roll down the pale pink material. Wondering how the hell Andrew Lawson has pulled this off, I raise my hand to touch the slimy surface.

“It’s detergent.” A voice calls out from above me. All at once, the twin rows of gleaming white teeth clamp down from behind, enveloping the cavern I’m kneeling in in a sudden darkness. There’s a faint flicking sound, like someone’s just pressed a button and the roof of the mouth lets out a faint hiss. An eerie fog seeps from a crack down the centre and I watch in awe as the roof shifts away from both sides, revealing a dimly lit room above… with a familiar figure peering down at me.

Andrew Lawson… the yellow.

“Sorry… for eating you.” He says, wearing a sheepish green. “But yeah, the walls of the mouth are just detergent, so no real saliva down there.”

I rise to my feet on the spongy tongue, my head now popping through the hole Andrew created in the roof. From here, I catch a glimpse of a whole other room, almost as cramped as the mouth. Andrew bends down further, as if trying to follow my gaze. I can’t help but sigh in wonder at how similar he looks in person to the robot he lives in. Maybe a little paler and skinnier, but otherwise identical.

Andrew’s honey coloured eyes twinkle in amusement. “I suppose you’d like to come out of there?” He asks, stepping aside so I can haul myself up through the hatch. Slowly, I get my footing on the metal floor now beneath me and let out a gasp. I’m standing inside Andrew Lawson’s cockpit. The control room for his robot.

“Wow…” I say, mouth wide in awe once again. Andrew smiles and backs up a little in the cramped space so I can take it all in.

“Um… this is my place… sorry it’s so clustered and dark…” His voice trails off, realising my attention is elsewhere. Slowly, I rotate on the spot as I take in the mass of wires and panels, flashing green and red lights, joysticks, buttons and gadgets that are cluttered around the space. In the centre of the room is a metal chair, drilled into the ground which overlooks what reminds me of a car’s dashboard. It’s divided into sections, labelled with various parts of the body. Instead of a steering wheel though, two black rubber gloves descend from the roof, attached with gleaming silver cords. They hover just above the metal chair, which is positioned so that the driver can stare straight outside through the two oval windows, that I presume are the robot’s eyes. In the far corner of the room is a ratty looking tissue that, at a yellow’s size, would serve as a blanket, as well as a notebook and full sized pencil that’s propped up against the wall.

“Y-y-you built this?” I gasp, eyes wide in wonder.

“I did, yeah.” Andrew says. It’s then that he steps into the faint light coming from the windows of the robot’s eyes. I inhale sharply, noticing the deep red line dappled with purple bruising, which expands across the left side of his face. Most of the blood has dried to crust around his hairline, and his shoulder and navy sweater are saturated.

“Holy shit! What happened?” I exclaim, my emotions running free now that I’m tiny. No buzzing comes from the monitor at my wrist, which has now settled to a low whir.

“I hit my head… I think.” Andrew replies, his smile wavering. “It looks worse than it is.”

I crease my forehead, surprised at how well he’s taking the pain. Maybe it’s just my green’s jealousy shining through at this point, but still. It’s not like Andrew can shrink any more than he already has, without being cursed yellow for the second time. Which is impossible, since a Nazaree is immune to witchcraft after their cursing.

“Don’t you want something to bandage it?” I ask softly, not knowing what to say. The initial shock of being shrunk and getting eaten by Andrew Lawson has passed now, and all that’s left in me is my worry wart, borderline emotionless nature. Well, not so much the last part, since my levels don’t matter right now, but still. I could grow again soon, seeing as it was only emotional shock that drove my levels haywire, but as usual, the cage in my brain which binds the feelings in has unlocked itself.

And after three and a half weeks of living without hate, jealousy, sadness, pain and fear, when I let it all out, it’s twice as hard to find the strength to renter reality and trap it all away again.

“That might help, actually.” Andrew Lawson responds suddenly, looking sheepish. I blink, the jumble of thoughts pushed from my head. I watch in stunned silence as my four inch tall companion crosses the room to the tissue blanket, only to rip a small strip from the end and wrap it around his forehead. At the size of a yellow, it serves as the perfect bandage. “I’ll have to clean it up a little back at Emily’s.” He mutters under his breath as he turns to face me again.

“How did you do it?” I ask. “Hit your head, I mean?”

Andrew winces a little in pain at the thought and shrugs. “Your red friend grabbed my robot by the neck and I slammed into the side of the room… not the nicest way to spend my morning, you know.”

“Ughh.” I groan, remembering the previous events involving Ava showing off her psychopathic side. “I’m sorry about that.”

Andrew lets out a soft snort. “A yellow wasn’t made to be bulletproof, I spose.” He says. “And it’s fine. It’ll heal up soon enough.”

I nod, trying to shake off the awful feeling that came with Ava causing Andrew so much pain. The emotions are amplified, after being discarded for so long, and it’s amazing that I don’t break down into tears, like I’d usually end up doing. It’s one of the perks of being a green, I guess. Sucks to be me.

“Hey!” Andrew says, cracking another smile. “Where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself: I’m Andrew Lawson.”

I can’t help but smile in return. “I know. And yeah, I’m Cole… Um… Cole Smith.”

“A green, I’m guessing?”

I laugh quietly. “Yep.”

Andrew takes a moment to look me up and down, before he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweater and meets my eyes again. “What’re you wearing?” He asks.

Instantly, a blush creeps up my cheeks. I’m still wearing my bodysuit, which had moulded to my skin as soon as I’d shrunk. Sometimes I forget about its presence, being so light and warm.

“It’s a suit.” I say, pointing out the obvious. “It… erm, keeps me warm when I’m, you know…”

“Yellow sized?” Andrew offers with a small smile.

“Yeah.” I mumble.

“It’s a cool design.” Andrew says, reaching out to touch the smooth material covering my arm. Only my fingers are exposed, the back of my hands covered in the same insulating fabric. “How did you put it on so fast?”

“Oh…” I smile, realising how weird it would seem to Andrew; how one moment I’d shrunk without my clothes on and the next I was well covered by the suit. “It’s my monitor… erm… the thing on my wrist.”

“Ahh. So it comes out of the watch…” He eyes it curiously. “How?”

“My witch made it for me. It’s not really a human device.” I explain, breaking his gaze and continuing to stare around the room. Near the tissue blanket which I presume is Andrew’s bed is a small map of Australia, pinned to the wall. Surrounding it are a million or so etchings of tally marks, covering the wall. I feel a pang of guilt, almost certain that these count down his time left with a chance to break his curse. And judging by how many tally marks there are, Andrew’s time is running out. It’s not the map or tally marks that meet my eyes though. It’s a small photo, pinned to the wall adjacent. I lean in to get a better look at the two figures smiling and hugging each other for the camera, and  my brow furrows in confusion.

“Craig and Janet???” I ask, wondering why Andrew has their familiar faces on display in the otherwise bare space. Are they… his idols or something?

Andrew’s body freezes up as soon as the words have left my mouth and his face pales. For a moment, it’s as if he doesn’t understand who I’m talking about. He looks like a lost child, unsure of how to find their way home. “Craig and Janet.” He whispers, mouth wavering.

“I’m sorry.” I say quickly, turning away from the picture. “Do you… know them, at all?”

Andrew nods, still looking dazed. “I do. They are… they were my parents. Why?”

My mouth drops open, a million thoughts instantly making themselves at home in my already jam packed mind.

How?

How didn’t I know?

When?

When did they leave him?

“Do you know them, Cole?” Andrew asks sternly, the friendliness draining from his voice.

Who?

Who have they told?

“Do you know where they are?” Andrew continues.

Where?

Where did they leave him?

“Please tell me.”

Why?

Why didn’t they tell me?

“Andrew.” I whisper, not knowing how or what I could do to comfort him at this point.

“Yes?” He asks.

Just tell him!

“Your parents are Nazarees.” I blurt out, silencing everything.