Once we got back to the house, Mom opened the car door for me. After all, I needed both hands to hold my pants up. And it was bad enough that I left my boots behind in the car. At least, with my pant legs covering my feet, I wasn't directly exposed to the garage floor.
Dad was waiting with Esme and Jocelyn. "What did the doctor say?" he asked.
Esme looked up from her phone. "Is Riley, like, shorter?"
"She's shrinking," Mom explained. "The doctor says that she can't find anything that might be causing it. All we know is, she's getting smaller." She turned to Esme. "Esme, why don't you take your sister upstairs, see if you can find some clothes for her?"
She put her phone down, and went up the stairs, with me trying to keep up. As I shrank, my stride covered less area; the pants being too long for my shrinking legs didn't help.
When I got to Esme's room, she asked, "Disconcerting, isn't it?"
"What?" I asked. "Shrinking?"
"I'm sure that's plenty weird," she replied. "No, I mean the way that grownups talk about you like you're not even there. I'm sure you thought, once you could look Mom in the eye with no trouble, you had seen the last of that. And then you start shrinking, and they do it all over again."
Was that what was going on? I had thought it was just a simple question and answer. Were they really going to treat me like a little kid, as I got littler?
She opened her closet door. "Might as well take off what you've got on; it's way too big for you."
True enough. I dropped my pants, and stepped out of them. I pulled up my sweater and shirt, tossing them aside. Then I took off my bra.
"Judging by how small you've gotten already, I don't think you want anything too long; so nothing full-length. And you don't want anything two-piece, either: Anything that hangs off your shoulders will stay on longer; you know, until this thing stops."
As she combed through her clothes, I started to wonder: What if this didn't stop? What if I just kept shrinking? Would I get too small for doll's clothes? And what would happen to me if I got too small for a ruler to measure?
Esme pulled me out of my thoughts by handing me a dress, a simple party number that was more appropriate for summer. But with my body dwindling, I couldn't be too picky. I put it on over my head, and it fit me reasonably well. I felt better,... until I looked up, and realized that Esme was slightly taller than I was.
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