Luke's frustration was beginning to reach a boiling point. With no other options left, he finally decided to just break in.
He looked around nervously. The party at Jennifer's house had run pretty late. It was dark out, and most of the neighboring houses showed no signs of life. He'd have to be careful, but it was unlikely he'd be caught.
A short search of the yard yielded a rock that looked heavy enough to break a window. Luke bent over to pick it up, and was dismayed to find that he could hardly lift it. It was a large rock, nearly as big as his head, but it wasn't huge by any means. He should have been able to handle it easily. But humiliatingly, he had to use all the strength and leverage he could muster to carry it to a window in the back of the house. Clumsily, he flung it at the window.
The rock hit, rebounded, and landed in the dirt. The window was merely slightly cracked.
It was just too much. All the frustration and fear of the past hour bubbled to the surface of his mind, and before Luke realized what he was doing he began crying uncontrollably, his sobs punctuated by girlish squeals and dainty sniffles. Each ultra feminine cry of his comically high voice only made him sob harder. He had never felt so weak and vulnerable. So violated. What could possibly have done this to him? It was like some sort of bizarre joke or sick hallucination.
Finally, after what must have been a good twenty minutes of crying, the sobs began to subside.
As he dried his eyes, inspiration struck. The tool shed in the back had a crowbar. With that, even his diminished arms might be able to break the window.
With a rush of joy, Luke found the shed unlocked. The crowbar's weight sent liquid fire through the tiny muscles of his petite arms, but it was still lighter than the rock; and with a series of high pitched grunts the crack in the window expanded until it at last burst open into a hundred shimmering pieces.
The window, while low, was still high for his shortened frame, and for the first time since his transformation Luke was glad he was wearing heels, as he just barely managed to pull himself up. He paid no heed to the jagged pieces of glass that remained in the window sill. Just as it had with the branches and underbrush during his trek, his dress seemed invulnerable to ripping or piercing, so his skin was protected.
He was home.
