Just then, Dylan saw his sister Fleur emerge from the house, looking annoyed about something. Apparently their mom had wanted her daughter outside on a beautiful day like this, too. Not wanting his sister to see him in his diminished state, Dylan looked around for a place to hide. He was out in the open right now, next to the patio and lawn chairs, his clothes in a pile by his feet, except for his shirt, which he was still wearing. Making a mad dash through the yard, he hoped Fleur didn't see him, but her voice rang out as he was running.
"Hey, who are you?" she yelled, watching the tiny figure disappear behind their shed. Wondering who it was, the girl followed, noticing her brother's clothes and a strange toy gun next to it.
Catching his breath, Dylan leaned against the side of the shed, hearing the crunch of the leaves and grass as his sister came closer. Thinking of running off again, the 9 year old looked up, as Fleur's head peered around the corner, her eyes growing wider when she realized who the stranger was.
"Dylan? What happened?"
Barely waist height to his sister now, the boy explained how he found the gun, how it accidentally went off, everything.
"This gun?" Fleur asked, as the pair walked back to the patio.
"Yeah, that's it. Can you grow me back?"
"I don't know," the girl replied. "I like you like this. You're kinda cute now."
"Come on, Fleur. Please?" Dylan pleaded.
"Hmm..." Fleur thought to herself, trying to decide what to do next.
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