So now that I had established that I was shorter, there was the question of what I could do about it. People aren't supposed to get smaller, but I did.
"Kylie, honey," Mom called up the stairs. "Breakfast is ready."
"Can you come up here, Mom?"
Mom came up. "What is it?"
"I'm shorter."
"What are you talking about, young lady? Teenagers don't get shorter."
"I'm serious, Mom. Look." I showed her the marks, and stood under the one I'd made.
Mom then took the tape measure and checked the marks for herself. "But that's impossible!"
"Apparently not," I said. "What could cause this?"
"I have no idea, Kylie. I've never heard of something like this before. Your party isn't until 3:00. We can get you to the doctor, and maybe find out more about this."
Seeing the doctor certainly wasn't how I wanted to start my birthday, but there was no other way to figure this thing out.
******************************
"What seems to be the problem, Kylie?" the nurse asked.
"I've somehow gotten shorter."
"Shorter?"
"I've been five-eight for years, but I woke up this morning, and I was just five-seven."
The nurse looked skeptical, but she measured me and checked my chart. Her eyes widened, and she left the examination room.
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