You are carried, with your face smashed into the soft palm of Ms. Carroll's hand, a fair distance through the school. Eventually you hear her opening a door, though, and a few seconds later, you are once again dropped onto a desk. This time, however, you are on top of a student desk, in the middle of a classroom. At the desk in front of you, a very large girl with several stomach folds and a monster of a pimple on the tip of her nose turns around and sneers at you. Ms. Carroll pivots on the heel of her shoe and walks away, leaving you in the midst of a classroom with no visible teacher.
"Hi there, hot stuff," the girl in front of you says, puckering her lips and expelling a cloud of sour breath in your face.
"Whoa! No! I did not come all this way for that!" you shout, turning away. However, you suddenly recognize the face of your brother seated at the desk behind yours.
"Bronson?" you ask, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you talking about?" he answers. "I come here every day, unless it's the weekend."
"...What?" you say. Then, you shake your head. "No, listen. You've got to help me get out of here."
"Oh, no, I can't do that. I'd get in trouble."
"What?" you say, staring at him. "You're in detention! You're already in trouble!"
"You don't understand."
You sigh, frustrated.
"Listen. Just tell me how to get out of here. I'll do it myself."
"OK. But you better hurry. The teacher this period is a real witch," he says. At the same instant, a deer-in-the-headlights look comes over his face and he turns red. "I mean...hitch..."
You are confused by Bronson's change in demeanor but then notice someone standing beside you. You glance over and have to double-take before you realize it's Ms. J.! You stare up at your beautiful former student-teacher and a sense of relief fills your body.
"Oh! Thank God. It's you!" you say.
"I see you've joined us all in detention today," Ms. J. says. "I thought you had graduated."
She then turns her attention to your brother, who remains visibly flustered.
"And I thought I heard you telling your brother something about me?" she asks him, with a finger on her cheek. "I'm a 'real witch?'"
"N-no," Bronson stutters. "I said 'hitch.' It's...slang...for 'a real nice woman.' Like...someone to get hitched with?"
"Oh, really?" Ms. J. asks, cocking her head and smiling. "That's so nice of you, Bronson, but I'm really too old for you."
"I...didn't mean..."
Bronson stops talking and hangs his head.
"Ms. J.," you say, bringing her attention back to you. "This whole thing has been a misunderstanding. I've been shrunk."
"Oh, I don't think anyone misunderstands that," she says.
"No, no...you've got to help me," you continue. "I'm not even supposed to be here."
"Hm," she begins, inspecting her clipboard. "No, it says here you were planning to commit lewd acts of pervertry."
She looks back to you from the clipboard.
"Westwood High doesn't allow perverts to roam its halls."
"Yes, yes, I know. No perverts in the halls," you say. "But I'm not a pervert! This is a huge misunderstanding! I was on my way out!"
"Don't lie," Ms. J. says. "You're looking up at my breasts right now."
"But I have to look up to see you!" you argue, exasperated. "I'm one freaking inch tall!"
"I'm going to need you to calm down," Ms. J. says. "We don't speak to each other like that here. I expected much more from you."
You turn away, sighing and shaking your head.
"Now, in university, we were taught that 'punishment should fit the crime,'" she says to you, tapping the clipboard against her hand. "My mind isn't dirty enough to understand these 'lewd acts' you were plotting, so please tell me exactly what it was you were going to do. And don't lie, either!"
You frown and look back up at her. Then, you...
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