SUNDAY
That next morning, Bridget woke up, hoping, perhaps, that she had grown during the night. She hadn't; she was still little.
"Honey," said Stuart, "the one thing you can't do is isolate yourself from everyone. Otherwise, you'll make things worse."
"Isolate myself? You mean, hide because this is SO embarrassing?"
"I know it's strange, but it's not the end of the world. You've been 11 years old before, or however old you are."
"I'm 16 years old, Dad. I was born 16 years ago. Don't treat me like a little girl, just because I look like one."
"Fair enough. Instead of brooding, why don't we try to figure a way to look at this in a positive way?"
"Like what? If I shave my legs, I won't have to do it again for a long time? And hey, guess what? I don't have to worry about my period. You won't have to by tampons at the grocery store, right?"
Her dad was squeamish about the mere mention of feminine products, even though he was surrounded by females. "Now, uh, Bridget..."
"Dad, you have no clue about how awful this is, do you."
"Maybe it's 'awful' because you can't run around like you used to," said Molly.
"Who the hell asked you? This is between me and Dad!"
"Your dad is right. You're going to have to adapt to this, and accept what's happened. If you're stuck with being a little girl for awhile, you'll have to deal with it. Can we forget, for a moment, that we're steps? And maybe talk, one woman to another?"
"I'm listening."
"Remember when you tried out for the school production of The Sound of Music? And you didn't get the role you wanted, so you quit?"
"Yeah. What's this about, me quitting something I didn't want to do anyway?"
"You did want to do it, because you're a good actress. Now you've got a chance to test that ability. Nobody outside this house knows that you're a mature woman. Imagine playing the role of a visiting exchange student?"
"Visiting from where? England, maybe?"
"Why not, honey?" said Stuart. "You can do a great British accent."
"Oh Dad, any idiot can pretend to be British."
"This is perfect for you, Bridget," said Molly. "When we go to Cassie's basketball game this afternoon, we'll stay for the 5th and 6th grade game too. You'll get a chance to meet some of the kids there."
"Why would I want to MEET anybody?"
"Because, Bridget," said Stuart, "It's looking like we'll have to put you in the 5th grade at Watson Elementary."
"But Daddy, I'm in high school!"
"Do you want to go to your high school tomorrow?"
"No. I would just die."
"Then we'll try this."
"There is NO way I am going to go back to grade school!"
"We'll see. In the meantime, you WILL be going to the ball game. You're far too small to stay here by yourself."
It seemed so ridiculous to Bridget. How did they plan to enroll her in school, anyway? And who would believe that she was an exchange student. It won't work out, she thought.
Molly went out and bought some clothes for Bridget. As usual, they were the wrong size.
"I could have sworn these would fit you," said Molly.
"I'm not fat, like some women in this home," said Bridget, tightening the belt on her shorts.
"Honey," said Stuart, "Molly is just trying to help..."
"If you had gone shopping with me," Molly added, "we would have a perfect fit."
"Let's just go to that dumb ball game," Bridget muttered.
----------
Cassie pointed out 5th graders at the ball game, and Bridget was taken to sit with them. Stuart and Molly knew Mrs. Scopes, and introduced Bridget as "Erika Crowne", adding that "Erika" might be enrolling at Watson Elementary. "Well, how nice to meet you, Erika," said Mrs. Scopes. "I think you'll like the other kids."
Bridget was soon sitting with her new peers, and she was not impressed. The other girls were too cool to her presence as a new kid. As for the boys, they really WERE boys, aged 10 or 11, not mature guys. The only one who talked to her introduced himself as Larry.
"You aren't related to Kent Sagely, by any chance?" Bridget asked. Immediately, she realized that she had forgotten to feign a foreign accent. What the hell. It had been a stupid plan.
"Nah," replied Larry. "Never heard of him. Want a piece of gum?"
Bridget nodded, and to her horror, he pulled pieces of nickel bubble gum out of his pocket. Ick. She snickered as she thought about telling her Dad about "this boy who pulled a Bazooka out of his pants for me". Kent Sagely had been Bridget's boyfriend up to two days ago, and this kid looked like Kent as a child. "Are you new to Orlando?" he asked.
"I used to live in San Diego."
"Really? My mom was in the Navy. We lived at Oceanside."
"Oh? Yeah. I was at Chula Vista before I came here."
Bridget felt uneasy. Already, this kid was seeing things in common with her. The idea of a little kid having a crush on her was revolting. She figured there were probably a lot of children like Larry in the 5th grade, some of whom might want to ask her out. Going back to fifth grade at all was unsettling.
"Maybe I'll see you around?" Larry asked, as his mother signalled him.
"Maybe, Larry. It's nice talking to you. Molly!!!" she hollered, and walked off.
Bridget was crying again as they left. "I can't do this. I just can't go to school with a bunch of little kids."
"We'll see how things look tomorrow," offered Stuart.
"It doesn't matter. If you try to make me a 5th grader, you'll be called from the office every day. I am not going to play along with this dumb idea."
"Bridget, you're just hurting yourself," said Molly. "Would you rather stay with me all day?"
"Maybe I should ask YOU that, Molly. Forget about me listening to anything you say now."
"I forgot about that a long time ago," said Molly.
----------
Bridget had refused to take phone calls from Kent, but she recognized the sound of his car late that evening. Before he came to the door, she sneaked out of the house and down the front walk. She was having doubts about trying to catch a last glimpse of him.
"Bridget!" he called.
She was so startled to hear him use her name, she stepped into the light.
"OH! I'm sorry. Is your sister home?"
Bridget turned back and ran into the house, crying. "Kent didn't recognize me!" she sobbed.
"Bridget, you shouldn't have gone out there in the first place!" her father said.
The doorbell rang. "Oh Dad, don't tell him I'm here! Please!"
Stuart got the door, and embarrassed Bridget by asking Kent to come in.
"Mr. Catorce? Sir? I heard that Bridget is going back to California. Has she left yet?"
Bridget hid behind her Dad. "Yeah, Ken. Uh, Kent. I'm sorry, but we took her to the airport this morning. I'm sure she'll call you or send an e-mail."
"Will she be back?"
"Uh... I don't know."
Kent could hear Bridget crying. "Mr. Catorce, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset little Cassie."
Bridget looked up at her boyfriend, now so much taller than she, sniffling.
"I'm sorry. Really," he told her. "I guess it's tough having your big sister gone."
Bridget went back to hiding behing her father. This was so humiliating, to be mistaken for her little sister.
"I'm just making things worse," said Kent. "I'll go."
She watched Kent walk out of her life forever. He probably would start dating someone else, she knew, and it wouldn't take very long.
MONDAY
Bridget had worried all night about being taken to D.R. Watson Elementary. When her Dad woke her, she sat up in bed and said, "I don't feel good."
"Oh my gosh!" said Dad. "Molly!!!"
What did he see? Chicken pox? Maybe she WAS sick.
"Look at her, Molly! I thought you said that you had stopped her from getting any smaller."
He marched her into the kitchen. "Four feet tall!" he said.
"She was that size when I first met you!" said Molly. "I'll call Aunt Chlora back. It's clear that the antidote isn't working. Or maybe..." Molly kneeled down to Bridget's level. "Did you see a brown compact when you were in my stuff?"
"No." Bridget said, too quickly.
"So you didn't take something earlier? Maybe trade something with a friend?"
"I..I don't know."
"That's why you're still getting smaller! We put the wrong powder on you. And Lord only knows what you did with the real antidote. You must have taken it before you used the red jar."
"You mean I'm littler than I was yesterday? I can't go to school now." Bridget had mixed feelings about it. On one hand, she was relieved that she wouldn't have to go to school. On the other, she was still getting younger.
"You stay home and help Molly today," said Stuart.
"Yeah, I'll be a real help to her," said Bridget. For the most part, Bridget stayed in her room, while Molly made phone calls. That evening, Molly told Stuart the good news.
"I reached Chlora. She has more of the antidote."
"Why didn't you tell ME that?" asked Bridget. "And does she have something to make me big again?"
"I asked her about that. She said she doesn't have anything like that, but she's going to check around. She'll get the antidote to us by overnight mail."
"Doesn't HAVE anything? You mean I'll have to stay this little?"
"Don't cry sweetheart. It'll be okay," Stuart volunteered.
"No it won't, Daddy. I should be in high school, and I'm not even old enough for middle school. What am I going to do?"
"We'll figure it out. In the meantime, you need to get some sleep."
Bridget didn't feel like arguing the point, and she was sleepy, so she borrowed some pajamas from Cassie and went to bed.
TUESDAY
Tuesday morning brought another surprise. Bridget's permanent teeth were gone and her baby teeth were coming back in. "We HAVE to do something. Look at her!" said Stuart. "She's a six year old kid!"
"I spoke with Chlora, and she located the stuff. And she's overnighting it to us even as we speak."
"But it won't get here until tomorrow!" cried Bridget. "Oh Daddy!"
"You can stay with Molly again," said Stuart. "You are not to go out without asking her."
"If my friends saw me like this.... oh, this is so embarrassing."
"Don't worry about that," said Molly. "Everyone thinks that you went back to California to stay with your mother. Your Dad and I are covering for you. Your friends don't have a clue about what's happened to you."
"I guess I should thank you," said Bridget.
"But you won't," replied Molly.
"When we get the other stuff, we'll turn you 16 again and nobody will ever know what happened," added Stuart.
Bridget spent another day doing nearly nothing. She went into Cassie's room and considered playing with her sister's dolls, but elected against it. She didn't want to surrender to childhood so easily. At dinnertime, Bridget had to adjust to sitting at the table in her new size. Nobody expected her to take her plate to the sink when she was done. Nobody expected her to do anything, really. ON the other hand, she wasn't allowed to do anything either. At 9 o'clock, her dad made her go to bed, but he had a stuffed animal with him. "This might make you feel better," he offered.
"Leon the Lion. Geez Dad, I hope that stuff gets here tomorrow."
"It will, and then we'll work on making you big again, Princess."
Bridget rolled her eyes. Princess! That package had better get here, and soon.
WEDNESDAY
But 10:30 came and went on Wednesday, with no package. Bridget cried and cried, and Molly comforted her. As a four year old, Molly was easy to carry.
"Don't worry, sweetie. I'm calling the national number, and they'll track it. In the meanitme, I went out last night and bought you some clothes to wear."
Bridget dressed herself, but was surprised that she couldn't remember how to tie her shoelaces. Molly tied them for her, then put Bridget's hair in pigtails. "We're going to McDonald's!" said Molly, and carried Bridget to the back seat and buckled her in.
"Don't worry. School hasn't let out, so nobody you know will be there. After we're done, we'll be getting Cassie from school."
It was a strange feeling, sitting at the table, but not being able to put her feet on the floor. Molly had taken them outside to eat, expecting, perhaps, that Bridget would want to play. "Stop saying stuff like that!" said Bridget, getting up.
"Where are you going?" asked Molly.
"I have to go to the restroom."
"Then I'll walk you over there. You can't be too careful in a public place." Molly not only walked Bridget to the rest room, she went inside with her. "Bridget, you're a little girl, and it's a big world out there." This was really getting to be annoying.
At school, Cassie ran over to the car, then laughed. "Bridget's still getting smaller!" she said.
"Yes, she is," Molly observed.
"She's going to be my little sister instead of my big sister."
"Now don't aggravate her. Be nice."
After supper, TV was interrupted just as it was getting to be prime time.
"Time for bed!"
"But it's just 8 o'clock," Bridget protested.
"Now Bridget, you need lots of sleep. Go get on your nightgown," said Molly.
Bridget looked to her Dad for a recount. "I'll carry you piggyback," he ventured.
Bridget shook her head. Next, she thought, he'll want to read me a story.
"And I checked with FedEx, and the powder will definitely be here tomorrow," said Molly.
After a few minutes, Stuart returned. "Already fast asleep. It's been awhile since I put a three year old to bed."
"We might have to do it again for awhile," said Molly, "but that powder will be here tomorrow."
"I hate that you have to be burdened with this," said Stuart. "You were going to go back to work on your masters once Cassie got older. When Bridget moved in with us, that kind of ruined that for awhile. Now we have another little kid in the house."
"We'll do alright, Stuart. Remember when Cassie was in preschool, and we wanted to have another baby? Maybe there's a purpose for this."
"You're sweet to do this," said Stuart. "A baby is a lot of work."
"We're up to it. Bridget needs us more than ever."
Stuart felt as if his wife was a heroine. If only he knew.
THURSDAY AGAIN
Thursday morning dawned, and Bridget could hear the sounds of her sister getting ready for school. Her Dad came in and kissed her before he left for work. "Molly will take care of you today," he said, and turned on the TV for her. "Be a good girl."
It was incredible how small she was now, her dark blonde hair now shining gold, and her face round as that of a toddler. Bridget refused to talk to him, and rolled over. "Oh well," she heard her father say.
"Stuart, you have to understand..." That was Molly again, supervising her every move. Bridget fell back to sleep, but awoke when she heard the doorbell and the sounds of conversation. "Where do I sign?" she heard Molly ask. Moments later, Molly came into the room.
"Did FedEx come?" Bridget asked.
"I thought you weren't talking to anybody. Yes, the antidote is here. I'm running you a nice warm bubble bath."
"But I don't wanna bath! I want that powder!" Bridget growled.
"I should expect this, now that you're in the terrible twos. Bridget, you have to take a bath."
Molly left again and turned off the bathtub, but made a quick call to Stuart while Bridget listened. "Just wanted to tell you, they delivered the stuff today, and I'm getting ready to put it on her. What's that? Yes, she is. You'll see. See you tonight, honey. I love you."
Molly came back in with a towel.
"No bath!" Bridget protested.
"No choice!" replied Molly, and picked her up out of bed. "Uggh. You wet the bed, Bridget."
"Huh? Oh no!"
"It doesn't matter, sweetie. At this age, you can't help it."
In the bathroom, Molly averted her gaze while Bridget undressed and climbed in the tub, but she didn't leave. "You're too small to be left alone in a tub," Molly noted. Molly insisted on washing Bridget's face and shampooing her hair, and when it was time to get out, she lifted a squalling Bridget out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel.
"You didn't get my clothes!"
"They're in your room, honey." Molly carried Bridget back down the hall, but they walked right past Bridget's bedroom.
"Guest woom?" Bridget asked. She was having trouble making sentences now.
"'Guest woom'. Oh, that's so cute. Your NEW room. We're moving you in here because it's next to my room," Molly said, opening the door.
Bridget was horrified. The room had been converted to a nursery, and the clothes laid out for her were a little dress with ruffles, and a disposable diaper.
"No way! Uh-uh!" Bridget shouted, trying to break free of her stepmother's grasp.
"You don't have a choice, Bridget. You already wet your bed, and as you get smaller, it's just going to get worse. Have you noticed you're having trouble talking? You're back at your second birthday, so you're already a baby."
"A baby?!"
"Look in the mirror, honey. Your hair is shorter. Your face is rounder. Don't worry. I'm not going to let you turn bald."
It was a shock to Bridget to see the reflection of a baby staring back at her.
"Now that you're a baby, your age is measured in months. Let's just say you're 24 months old, and with each hour, you lose another month. So get used to the diapers."
"FedEx comed! You can stop dis!"
"Maybe I don't want to 'stop dis'. I never have been waiting for FedEx. I had the antidote here all along. I just waited until the right time to use it."
"Huh? But why?"
"When I first realized you had become younger, I thought we could ship you back to San Diego as a 12 year old. However, your daddy says your mother's problems haven't gotten any better. She's delusional, and she's in no shape to handle you, or any other child. There's a real danger she could hurt you. So... we still have to take care of you. Except I'm the one who is going to have to do it."
"YOU?" Bridget asked, horrified.
"Sure. You remember when Cassie was a baby, don't you? I can take care of a baby girl. Your Dad can't come home from work everytime you need your diapers changed, can he? You know, Bridget, I kept hoping you would reach some age where you were a little less wild, a little more lovable, and just freeze you there-- but it never happened. I thought of stopping you at age 7, just a little younger than Cassie. But whatever age you were, I realized you would cause me trouble. As you got smaller, I came to see that I had more control over you."
"I'm tellin' Daddy!"
"And that's why this has to be. If your father knew that I could have prevented you from becoming this little, he would be furious. But he won't hear about it from you. By the time Daddy comes home, you'll be too little to tell him anything but 'Da-da'. You refused to speak to him this morning, you know? I told him that it was because you already were a baby. Your father accepts all your stories without question, so I'm not surprised he believed me. He won't be surprised to see you in diapers. Besides, you don't think I carried the baby furniture in here, do you? He's just going to be glad you aren't getting smaller."
Bridget thought about it. Nobody else would know what was happening here.
"All that lying caught up with you. Besides convincing your dad that you were too young to talk, you told your friends that you were returning to California. In a few days, they'll get an e-mail from you that says you've decided to stay there. If you hadn't stolen from me, you wouldn't be in this predicament now, would you?"
"Can I be big? Peeeassseee?!"
"You know, I asked Aunt Chlora about that. There's a powder to make you younger, and a powder to stop the process-- but she knows of nothing to make a person age more quickly. You'll grow older..." Molly flashed a crooked smile. "...one day at a time."
Bridget started crying again. It would take her years to return to age 16. "It's not fair!!"
"It's okay. You're supposed to cry at this age. The way I figure it, you'll be 20 months old at lunchtime, 17 months old when we get big sister from school. Now, let's get you dressed."
"Gimme dat powder!" Bridget shouted as she realized that each minute brought her closer to helpless infancy. Molly set Bridget face down on the crib mattress, then removed the towel, leaving her bare. Bridget cried as she felt a cool talcum being sprinkled on her. Baby powder.
"I know you were talking about the other powder, but you'll need this to prevent a rash." Molly made a point of standing in front of her daughter to unfold the diaper, then rolled Bridget over and fastened the garment. "I'll give you a choice-- no other clothes, or this pretty little dress. The dress?" Bridget nodded.
"I thought so," she said, and slipped it over Bridget's head.
"It's going to take awhile to get used to this, but I plan to leave you old enough to walk. Hold my hand, and let's get used to your new routine." Bridget toddled along with her stepmother to the kitchen, and Molly got a baby bottle from the refrigerator. Bridget threw the bottle down. "Bad little Bridget," said Molly, gently swatting her and picking the bottle back up. "Guess I'll have to feed you."
Molly picked Bridget up effortlessly and fed her as they watched TV. "I wonder if Barney is still on? Cassie used to enjoy that.."
Bridget couldn't break free, and when the bottle was proffered again, she found herself wanting to drink from it. "It's a balance, really, making you too young to talk, but old enough that you can take regular milk," said Molly.
Bridget felt drowsy and wondered if there was a tranquilizer in there. It would be just like Molly to do that. Molly was singing as she rocked her.
-------
"Wake up, baby. My, you slept a long time. It's two o'clock, so you're, what, 18 months old? Talk to me."
"Nuh!" said Bridget, and more words escaped her. She could understand Molly, but couldn't talk back. "Now, here's the antidote," said Molly, powdering Bridget's face. "You won't get any littler. In time, you may forget you were ever bigger. I intend to raise you from an adorable baby girl to a nice kid and then a responsible woman."
"Gull," said Bridget.
"Looks like you've forgotten how to talk. I hope you'll forget more. After we get you changed, we'll walk to big sister's school. I think it's a nice day for a stroller ride, don't you? We're going to have lots of days like this, baby."
Bridget sobbed as Molly fastened a clean diaper snugly on her.
"NO! NO Mah-wee!" Bridget shouted.
"Close. But from now on, my name isn't 'Molly', understand?" She paused for effect.
"... it's 'Mommy'."