Seven weeks.
Betty had been under house arrest courtesy of her mother for seven weeks. She was driven to college in the morning, driven home in the afternoon, and chaperoned anywhere else. No friends, no extracurricular activities, and no Ronnie. She was twenty years old and should have some control over her life and who she dated - but to Mrs. Andrews, she’d always be a kid who needed discipline. Betty had never had the nerve to stand up to her mother before, and this time was no different.
But Ronnie had a plan. A bizarre, insane plan that involved an actual magic spell, but a plan.
Betty had tested the spell out the day before. It worked as intended, and after exactly one hour, her stuffed animal test subject had returned to normal, so she was ready to do it for real. She checked her watch. 3:50 - forty minutes until her exit window closed. She braced a chair under her doorknob, since her door had no lock. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would keep her religious mother from walking in to find Betty practicing witchcraft.
Betty slung her purse over her shoulder, zipped up the small suitcase packed with a few favorite outfits, books, and toiletries, and stepped over to a large patch of bare wooden floor. She grabbed the salt she’d swiped from the kitchen and poured a circle on the floor, carefully drawing the magic sigils. She set candles at each of five points surrounding the circle and stepped inside, setting the suitcase beside her. Once she had the candles lit, she stood in the middle of the circle, closed her eyes, and recited the spell. As she uttered the last word, she opened her eyes...and her jaw dropped.
The salt circle was glowing with a magical golden energy - and the room around her was slowly, steadily getting bigger.
“Oh my gosh, it’s working!” Betty clapped her hands in glee. She was actually shrinking! She glanced down at herself, paranoid that her belongings might not be shrinking with her. If her suitcase and purse stayed big, how would she get them out of the house? Worse, what if the dress she was wearing didn’t shrink with her? She had a mental flash of Ronnie coming to pick her up for a date and finding her tiny and naked, and she flushed crimson. They hadn’t even done much more than kiss yet!
That would be soooooo awkward, Betty thought with a nervous giggle. Fortunately, it wasn’t going to be a problem - her modest pink dress and her bags were keeping pace with her size, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced at her watch, frustrated by the spell’s slow pace. Time was short, and getting through the house would be difficult after this. “Come on, come on,” she grumbled, tapping her foot. When the spell stopped, she stood just under eleven inches tall - one-sixth her normal size - and it was 3:57. She snatched her shrunken suitcase and dashed toward her door.
She glanced up at the massive chair jammed under the knob. She’d never be able to move it now, but the gap under the poorly-hung door was big enough that she should be able to squeeze through. She pushed her suitcase under first, and it slid easily on the smooth wooden surface. She peeked through the gap, checking the hallway beyond for her mother, who would be able to literally control Betty in her current condition. The hall was free of giants, so Betty slid beneath the door. Halfway through, she got stuck - her hips and butt were too big to fit.
Betty grasped futilely at the hardwood floor. “Ugh! If we had carpet, I’d have something to grab!” She squirmed and struggled for a few minutes, and finally she twisted around enough to push against the bottom of the door. There was an intense feeling of being squeezed, and then she popped through the gap.
“Now I know how corks must feel…” she said, brushing dust off of the back of her dress. She was dismayed to discover the fabric had some rips and snags in it from the rough wooden bottom of the door, but more upset that she had less than thirty minutes left. She sprinted down the hall, which was now six times longer than usual.
Betty was sweating when she reached the stairs. She had chosen the dress because it was cute and Ronnie liked it, but the fabric was hot and ill-suited to exercise. She stood on the landing, peering warily down the massive steps as her stomach fluttered. Still, she had to get down, and she was running out of time. She took a deep breath, thought of Ronnie, and forced herself to forge ahead. She swung her suitcase down, then turned backwards and lowered her feet over the edge, feeling a moment of panic until they touched the step below. The next step was easier, and the next easier still. She was fine until about halfway down, when, just as her feet touched down again, she heard a sound that froze her blood.
“Hello?”
Mrs. Andrews’ voice, familiar, but also deeper and much louder, called out from below. Betty’s heart pounded. She was sure that she would turn around to find her titanic mother standing a few steps below her. Betty swallowed a huge lump in her throat and turned, but her mother wasn’t there. She nearly collapsed in relief.
“Hey, you!” she heard from somewhere in the foyer beneath her. Puzzled, she strode to the edge of the stairs and fought off vertigo as she peered through the railing. Below, her mother - her colossal size evident even from above - was talking on a cellphone. Betty felt a flash of irritation. She couldn’t have a phone, because they were distractions at best and “tools of the devil” at worst. Naturally, this rule didn’t apply to her mother. “Oh. Hmm. I’m not sure. I’ll have to check.” Mrs. Andrews lowered the phone and started toward the stairs.
Betty panicked. There was nowhere to hide on the steps. “What am I gonna do?” She looked frantically around, watching her mother close the distance to the stairs and looking down at the dizzying drop to the foyer floor.
“Just a minute.” Mrs. Andrews’ feet thumped against the wooden stairs as she climbed. She had no reason to look over the side, so she didn’t spot the tiny Betty, clinging to a baluster with one white-knuckled hand while the other clutched her dangling suitcase. She didn’t notice when her heavy footfalls shook the stairs, making Betty’s fingers slip. She didn’t see her miniature daughter lose her grip on the baluster...
“Ohhhhh…” Betty moaned when she awoke minutes later. She grimaced as a dozen pains made themselves known from all over her body. Disoriented, she looked around, failing to understand why she seemed to be in a jungle. Realization dawned on her after several confused seconds - she’d been fortunate enough to tumble into the potted ficus her mother kept in the foyer. Betty was scratched, bruised, and dirty from the potting soil, but she was alive and relatively unhurt, and her suitcase had landed close by.
She glanced at her watch. “4:20! Eep!” She scrambled down from the plant pot to the floor. She raced to the edge of the shade the leaves provided and screeched to a halt when she saw her towering mother standing in the foyer again, still on the phone. Mrs. Andrews was between Betty and her way out, and she was pacing back and forth - there was no way for Betty to cover the distance unseen. She stood beneath the plant, growing more agitated with each minute her mother spent passing idle gossip while cutting Betty off from salvation. Betty stared at her watch with trepidation. Seven minutes. Six. Five.
With less than three minutes left, Mrs. Andrews strode out of the foyer, still gabbing away about some church member. Betty sprinted across the tiles like her life depended on it. She reached the cardboard box by the front door, lifted a flap, climbed in, and closed it behind her. She sat in the darkness of the box, trying to slow her pounding heart. She’d made it. She was filthy, she was in pain, she was hot and sweaty, her cute dress was tattered and dirty, but she had made it. She sighed happily and snuggled down among the contents, relishing their familiar scent. Now all she had to do was wait…
The doorbell rang at exactly 4:30. Betty couldn’t see beyond the box, but she heard her mother’s thunderous footsteps and the loud click of the door handle as she opened it.
“Hello - oh. It’s you,” Mrs. Andrews said with undisguised contempt.
“Hey, Miz A,” came a sing-song, overly saccharine female voice. “Betty home?”
Betty’s mother sniffed. “Was it not made clear to you? Bethany does not associate with your kind anymore.”
“My kind?” What kind am I?” The other woman’s voice took on a playful tone. “Oh, I get it. You hate the idea of two women in bed together--”
“Ex-cuse me!”
“--kissing, touching, undressing each other--”
“Veronica!” Mrs. Andrews snapped. “That’s quite enough!”
“What’s wrong, Marcy? Got your motor running?”
Inside the box, Betty blushed...but she was also stifling laughter.
“Well, I’m not here to talk dirty to you. Betty was returning a box of my stuff.”
“Yes, take your garbage away before I have it burned,” Mrs. Andrews said coldly. “And if I ever see you on my property again--”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m leaving this awful little town with its awful little people.”
The box shifted and rose rapidly upward. Betty tumbled around inside it, nearly crying out in alarm.
“Good riddance,” Mrs. Andrews said.
The box shifted and lurched. Betty felt like she might be sick. She heard a door slamming, footsteps on a gravel walk, and then there was a whisper that was still quite loud at her size.
“Sorry if I jostled you. That bitch just makes me so angry. I’ll check on you as soon as we’re clear.”
More movement of the box, though it was much more gentle, and then an engine started. A short time later, the car stopped, the flap was opened, and Betty was staring up at a huge version of a familiar grin. “Ronnie!”
“Hey, sweetness. Missed your face.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Betty said, beaming.
Ronnie’s expression shifted to concern. “Babe, what happened to you? You look pretty banged-up.”
“I’m okay. Get me out of here and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Ronnie reached down into the box. “Is it okay if I…?”
Betty balked at the sight of her girlfriend’s giant hand, but after a moment she nodded. “Y-yeah. I...I’ve missed holding your hand. Let’s make up for it.” Betty positioned herself in Ronnie’s hand, and she was lifted out of the box.
Ronnie smirked down at the doll-sized girl. “You know, this isn’t usually how I pick up women.”
Betty groaned. “Ha, ha. You’d better apologize for that joke.”
Ronnie brought Betty up higher and leaned down, giving her a delicate kiss as best she could under the circumstances. “Does that make you feel better?”
Betty grinned. “It’s a start. Sit me on the dash so we can talk face-to-face?” After Ronnie had helped her up, Betty told her in detail about her hazardous trek through the giant house.
“My brave lady love.” Ronnie said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me, too. And I’m glad to be out of that house forever!” Betty noticed Ronnie frowning, her eyes fixed on the dashboard clock. “Um...Ronnie? Something wrong?”
“Uhh...what time would you say you used the spell?”
Betty glanced at the clock. “Hmm...it’s 5:05 now, so--” Realization suddenly dawned. “Wait...isn’t the magic only supposed to last an hour?”