After school
A glance here, a look there… I’d been following Biff without his knowing for the last few days, not really noticing anything special. Well, today he seemed to have JV football tryouts. I don’t know why, but I kind of had a feeling something might happen today. Call it my... uh, never mind. I hid under the bleachers and crouched so I could watch without being seen.
Biff was running around, calling out that he was open, pass him the ball. But what a sight! His butt was jiggling and bouncing up and down like it was filled with jello. The coach was shouting at him constantly. “Why haven’t you kept in shape?” “Who do you think you are?” “You better be taking this tryout seriously if you wanna have a chance of getting on the team.” Some of the boys were pointing and laughing, and this had Biff’s cheeks red.
After an especially rude comment from the coach, Biff approached and said, “But coach, I can do this! Please, just give me another chance!”
Coach Jones shook his head. “Alright, Biff, one more chance. Here’s the ball, you’ll pass to Andrew over there while he’s running away. I want to see how well your pass goes, and if it’s complete. Though I have my doubts, honestly.”
I could see a smug look on Biff’s face. I guess he’d show them. But, as fate would turn out, that wasn’t the half of it. Oblong ball in hand, he tilted back his arm, then leaned forward into the throw as his arm went forward. But halfway through, his hands suddenly became very small, as did his feet! His forward momentum quickly changed his smug look to one of fear, as he lost his balance and continued to propel forward and down. The ball slipped out of his tiny hand before he expected it would, and he looked unsure of what to do next. He screamed, sounding mysteriously very much like a girl, as his arms flailed about, not sure whether he should try to catch himself or not, he’d get hurt either way. Some of the boys wondered if Sarah was nearby, and looked around in interest. But they didn’t see her.
Suddenly, he face planted the ground hard, and called out gruffly from quite a lot of pain. The ball landed just a few feet away from him—a far cry from where he thought it’d go. Swearing loudly with every bruised movement, he put his new little hands under him and tried to push himself up, but seemed too weak to accomplish this well; it took him several tries to manage it, finally getting a knee underneath him, and eventually he was back on his feet. Or was he?
Wow, what a sight! He blinked and looked around. Something was wrong, very wrong. It barely looked like he’d stood up at all, because of his new height. He was incredibly short! His clothes hung from him like a burlap sack, and he had to keep hitching them up in an effort to keep them on him. His shirt brushed him a certain way, causing him to shriek and then, realizing other things were off too, felt up his chest, which seemed to now have two very large lumps hanging from it; they were quite sensitive, which he chalked up to having just fallen on them. His arms were now quite thin, bearing no sign of the muscles that had graced them just a few moments ago, but displaying bruises along their length.
“Look at his hands and feet!” cried one of the boys, causing others to shriek with laughter. Biff looked down and was shocked. They were very pretty! His soft hands had nails out to one inch and were painted with a cute pastel pink. Perhaps the most shocking thing of all to him, though, was that he now seemed to be wearing five-inch open-toed high heel sandals, sporting adorably tiny toes that had the same shade as his fingernails! They even had several thin straps wrapped around his cute ankles, held tight by buckles. Even with their lofty height he barely came halfway up to the boys’ chests. The coach said he was sorry, but there was no way Biff could be on the team. Biff walked away fuming and confused, holding his tented clothing up, his tiny feet wobbling with every shaky step.
“Serves him right,” I mused, happy at the turn of events but wondering just what in the world had happened.
