You see your thirteen year old neighbor, Beatrice 'Brace Face' Mackenzie, staring at you with a mixture of glee, shock, and wonder, from across the street. As one might deduce from her nickname, Mackenzie has a mouth full of metal. The braces, due to their silver/metallic coloring and larger than average size, have always been very noticeable and, therefore, a source of ridicule. Beatrice is a ginger with a freckly complexion, and red hair pulled back into pigtails. She's thin as a rail, which gives her a somewhat delicate look. In reality she's always outdoors, despite her lighter skin and frail frame, playing hopscotch, jumping rope, and scraping her knees. Since you don't even attend the same school, you don't know too much about how well she gets along with her peers. What you do know is she has a great love for collecting odd little knickknacks (strangely shaped rocks, bottle caps, etc), an appreciation for D&D fanfiction, and a serious chocolate pudding addiction. Things that you personally don't see anything wrong with, but that probably haven't made her the most popular kid in school. She rushes up to you, mouth opened slightly in awe.
You can't help but cower a little as your once diminutive neighbor towers over you. A strange smile spreads across her lips, and she mumbles the words, "Thank you!" to no one in particular. She reaches down to grab you. You sink back into your clothing as the young girl's hand draws nearer. You briefly consider diving back into the sleeve you'd come out of earlier. That, unfortunately, just wouldn't cut it. Beatrice wanted to get her hands on you and there really wasn't one damn thing you could do about it.
Though you should probably be more worried about what she's planning to do to you, oddly enough your first concern is hiding your nakedness. You cup your privates with you hands, face flushed. Beatrice's thin, delicate, fingers wrap around your waist. You feel the warm skin of her palm press against your chest and arms, and her fingers gently make contact with your back. Holding you as if you're some fragile treasure, she lifts you skyward. You have no idea how much height you've lost, but you do know you must now be quite small if you can comfortably fit into the palm of a young teen girl's hand, "Beatrice I....... I've shrunk. You've got to take me home and get me help!" You plead.
The ginger girl looks as if she's actually considering your request, but then she suddenly shakes her head no, grinning like the Cheshire cat, "Sorry, this is just too good to be true." With that she burst off running, with you in hand, back to her house. You have no idea what she might have in store for you and, honestly, you're a bit scared. Your relationship with your crazy neighbor girl could be described as 'fleeting' or 'nearly nonexistent', but every time you'd seen her out and about you'd been
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