I try to sit up or at least move my head so I can get an idea of what I look like now, but I can’t move. She probably strapped me down for my own protection. My throat feels as raw and parched as it did before. All I can manage is a little groan. I can’t tell if it’s a woman’s groan or a man’s groan.
A face appears next to the bed, close enough for me to make it out clearly. It’s a woman’s face, with the brown skin and straight black hair of an Indian. She looks like Dr. Nath, only younger and she wears white glasses that are similar to my red ones. She displays two rows of perfect white teeth. “Hi, Stacey!”
I whimper a little at this. Not from what she said, but how she said it. I know that perky condescension too well from when I was ten years old. I must be a little girl again. In which case, the FY-1978 worked too well. The only question is just how little I am.
The Indian woman goes on in the same condescending tone, “My name is Dr. Kalya Nath. I bet you knew my aunt, didn’t you?” I manage to nod my head slightly at this. “Dr. Palmer assigned me to look after you, OK?” I nod again. “You’re probably feeling thirsty. You’ve been asleep for a long time—a week to be exact. I’m going to give you a cup of water now. You drink as much as you want.”
The cup is plastic, with a straw that she puts into my mouth. All I have to do is suck on it. At least I’m strong enough for that. The water courses down my dry throat to bring some relief. I drink the whole thing, which prompts this new Dr. Nath to say, “Good job, Stacey! Do you want any more?”
“Not right now,” I manage to say. My voice is back to its familiar chipmunk squeak. “Can you untie me now?”
“Of course I can.” I feel the straps loosen around my body. As they do, I wiggle my feet and arms, to make sure they’re still there.
Once I’m free, I roll over on the bed. I hear the bed creak a little as the doctor adjusts it into a sitting position. The moment I see my feet, I start to cry. They’re so tiny! Even smaller than when I was ten. My legs don’t even reach to the halfway point of the bed.
I manage to get my arms free from under the sheet. The skin on my hands is brown, not as dark as Dr. Nath’s skin or even as dark as Dr. Palmer’s, more like the beige of the walls. I hold up one hand and flex tiny, chubby fingers.
The doctor presses something into my other hand. I see a handheld mirror. “Here you go, sweetie,” she says. “Now you can see how pretty you are!”
I hold up the mirror to get a look at my face. I’ve seen this face before: the chubby cheeks, the tiny nose, the football-shaped brown eyes. This is Maddy’s face from when she was a Chinese toddler thanks to Dr. Ling. Someone’s even put my black hair into the same pigtails Tess used to tie for her. I throw the mirror down into my lap as I sob. I’ve become Stacey Chang again, only littler this time.
When Dr. Nath tries to put an arm around me, I swat at her. “Stay away from me!” I scream.
“Stacey, please—”
“Go away!”
Her voice loses its cheeriness as she says, “I’ll give you a minute, OK?” She takes the mirror off my lap before she goes. While I continue to cry, I hear her on the phone. “She’s awake now. Yes, she’s freaking out. Should I give her something? Well, if you think that’s for the best.”
Dr. Nath returns to my bedside. She gives me another smile. “Don’t worry, sweetie, Dr. Palmer will be down here in a few minutes.”
“I don’t care!” I roll over to face away from Dr. Nath. Not that it matters; she can go to the other side of the bed if she wants. She’s a lot more mobile than I am right now.
I squeeze my eyes shut and will this Dr. Nath to go away; I will myself to grow back into a young woman, so I can be with Mac again. I feel a hand on my back. I hear Dr. Palmer coo, “It’s all right, Stacey. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“You made me a baby,” I whimper. I open my eyes to see Dr. Palmer by the bed so that her eyes are level with mine.
“You’re not a baby. According to our latest reading, you’re six-point-two.”
“I don’t wanna be six-point-two! I wanna be big.”
“Do you remember anything that happened after I gave you the shot?” When I shake my head, she continues, “After I gave it to you, you did turn into a baby. A beautiful little newborn girl.”
“You mean I’m growing?”
“That’s right. You’re getting bigger all the time. In another week or two you’ll be an adult again, so long as the reaction doesn’t stop by then.”
“It could stop?”
“The reaction is slowing down. We’ve done a few computer models. Most say you’ll get to about your previous age—twenty-three or so.”
“What do the rest say?”
“A few—just a few—say you might end up somewhere at twelve to fourteen.”
“Twelve to fourteen? But I’d still be little!”
“I know. Like I said, those aren’t the norm.”
“But it’s possible, right?”
“Yes, it’s possible.” She reaches up to tousle my hair. “The important thing right now is to stay positive. You’re still getting bigger. You’ll probably be a cute little ten-year-old again in a day or two.”
“I don’t wanna be ten.”
“I know, sweetheart. Let’s try to stay positive, all right? You’re a little girl right now, but soon you’ll be a young woman again and you can go back to your singing and your wedding.”
I groan at the last statement. “Does Mac know I’m here?”
“No one knows you’re here except for Jake. He brought some stuff from home to help you feel more comfortable.” She holds up Pinky. I reach out for it and press the monkey against my chest. “There are some clothes too, when you feel like getting out of bed.”
“What did you tell Mac? And Maddy?”
“Jake told them you went somewhere to get some rest and work on losing some weight.”
“They think I’m at fat camp?”
“Something like that.”
“What if I don’t turn back? What if I stay little?”
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. I’m sure Tess will be happy to look after you again. And I know how much Mac loves you. I’m sure he’ll wait for you.”
Her mention of Mac reminds me of the photo on her dresser. A conspiracy theory forms in my head. “You did this on purpose!” I roar. With no other weapon at my disposal, I start to hit at the doctor’s face with Pinky. “You wanted Mac for yourself.”
Dr. Palmer easily snatches the monkey away from me. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw the picture in your room. You loved Mac. I bet you still do. That’s why you gave me the shot, so you could make me little and get me out of the way.”
The doctor shakes her head. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s not like that. Mac and I did love each other, but that’s over now. It has been for a long time.”
“Then why do you keep the picture?”
“Because he’s still my friend. And so are you.” She manages to get past my defenses to touch one of my pudgy cheeks. “I would never hurt you like that, Stacey. You’re too important to me.”
“As your guinea pig,” I say.
“You’re the one who wanted the shot. You said whatever happened would be on you, right?”
Even though I want to be a petulant child about it, I know the doctor is right. I broke into her apartment. I asked for the shot. All she did was risk her career to give it to me. “I’m sorry,” I say as I start to sob again. “I’m being naughty.”
“It’s all right, sweetheart. You just get some rest now, OK?”
“OK.”
“I promise we’ll do everything we can to make you better so you can be with Mac again.”
“Tanks,” I say, using the cute lisp Maddy used as a toddler when she wanted to manipulate people.
It’s just as effective coming from me. Dr. Palmer smiles at me. Then she pulls the sheet up to my chin, to tuck me in. Before she goes, she reaches into a pocket and produc
es my glasses. “I’ll leave these next to the bed. They may not work right now. We can always get you new ones.”
“Are you going to stay here?”
“I have work to do, but Dr. Nath will check on you.”
“I don’t like her. She treats me like a baby.”
“She just doesn’t know you as well as I do, but she’s a very nice lady. And very, very smart too, like her aunt.”
I nod, but I’m getting too sleepy to argue. I feel Dr. Palmer kiss my forehead and then I drift back into dreamland.
***
The recovery room is underground, so there aren’t windows to allow me to know whether it’s day or night. When I wake up, Dr. Nath tells me it’s been eight hours since I fell asleep. “It’s morning now,” she says. She’s dialed down the cheeriness a little, probably after a talk with Dr. Palmer. “Are you hungry?”
My little potbelly growls an affirmative. “Yes,” I say.
“What would you like? We have cereal here. Or I could have someone get you some pancakes or eggs—”
“A cup of yogurt would be good,” I say.
“Sure. What flavor do you like?”
“I don’t care.”
“I’ll be right back. You be a good girl until then.”
While she’s gone, I find my glasses where Dr. Palmer left them. Everything comes into focus—too much focus. My eyes feel tingly. By the time Dr. Nath comes back, I’ve got the start of a headache. She sets down a cup of strawberry yogurt and a plastic spoon. There’s also a glass of orange juice to wash it down with. “Here you go, sweetie. Do you mind if I call you that?”
“It’s fine.”
She sits on a stool to watch me eat. At least she hasn’t tried to tie a bib around me yet. “How old are you?” I ask her between mouthfuls of yogurt.
“I’m twenty years older than you are. Do you know what that is?”
I have to think hard about it. I know I should be able to answer the question, but when I try, my mind goes blank. Finally I have to count on my fingers. When I run out, I use my toes. Then I have to go back to my hands again. “Twenty-six,” I chirp.
“That’s very good, Stacey.”
“Nuh-uh,” I say. “I was too swow.”
The doctor nods. “Some of your learned skills have degraded from the shot.”
“Will I have to go back to school?” I don’t relish having to go back to St. Andrew’s Academy again, especially not as a first grader like Maddy was.
“I doubt that. You might need a few lessons, though.”
The doctor goes back over to her stool. She reminds me of Mac as she scribbles something on a pad of paper. Probably some notes about my decreased skill level. I pick up Pinky, and hug it to my chest again. “Can’t I go home to Gramma and Grandpa?”
“Dr. Palmer wants to keep you here until you stop growing.”
“Am I still growing?”
“I took a reading an hour ago. It said six-point-five.”
“Is that good?”
“Not as good as we’d like.”
“Do you think I’ll become a big girl again?”
“My guess is you’ll get to around sixteen.”
“Sixteen?”
“That’s just my guess. Dr. Palmer is more optimistic.”
I finish off the rest of my yogurt and then say, “I’m sorry about your aunt. She seemed like a nice lady.”
“I didn’t really know her too well. Not many people did. She was a real workaholic.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“It’s a good job. Plus this stuff she was working on has the potential to help a lot of people. Once we work out the kinks.”
“Kinks like me.”
“Yeah, kinks like you.” She gives me a smile. Then she puts down the notebook. “Do you want to get down from there?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Nath grabs me around the midsection. She groans as she hefts me off the bed. “You’re getting so big,” she says.
“I’m not fat!”
She puts me down and then pats my belly. “You are a little chunky.”
“You’re a meany,” I say and pout.
“Sorry. I was just joking. I think you’re very cute.”
“Tanks.”
She gets Pinky down so I can hug it for comfort. “I’ll go get you some clothes.”
The room seems a lot bigger now that I’m on the floor. My stomach seems bigger too now that I’m not lying down. I remember how chubby Maddy was and how fat she got once she grew up. Will that happen to me? Will I end up two hundred fifty pounds, if not more? We might have to postpone the wedding for a few months then.
If there’s a wedding. If I don’t turn back into an adult then we might have to wait years to get married. Dr. Palmer said Mac would wait for me, but if I get stuck at seven, will he wait eleven years for me? By then he’d be over fifty, about as old as I used to be.
I’ve started to bawl by the time Dr. Nath gets back with a pile of clothes. She gets down on her knees so she can look me in the eye. “Stacey, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” I shake my head. She asks, “What is it? You can tell me. I’m your friend.”
“Are not.”
“Well, I’d like to be your friend. Do you want to be my friend?”
“No.”
“Fine, whatever. I’m not supposed to be a babysitter anyway. Here are your clothes. If you need help, just yell. I’ll be outside.”
I wait until she slams the door shut before I start sorting through the pile of clothes. I recognize the yellow Spongebob T-shirt as one of Maddy’s from when she was little. The jeans were hers too. They don’t fit me very well; I have to wear them below my tummy. I guess I am pretty fat. “I’m done!” I shout so she can hear.
Dr. Nath stomps into the room. Her cheeks are still a little flushed from before. She reaches down for my hand. “Come on, let’s go next door. Your grandpa left some toys for you.”
“OK,” I say. She leads me into a musty hallway. There’s a room next door that was Maddy’s the last time I was here. This time there’s no bed or monitoring equipment; they’ve turned it into a makeshift nursery with dolls, coloring books, and stuffed animals scattered around. There’s an easel too if I want to finger paint, a table and tiny plastic chairs for tea parties, and a couple of big pillows when I want to nap. “This is nice.”
“I hope you enjoy it. I’ll bring you lunch in a couple of hours.”
Before Dr. Nath can go, I snatch her hand. “I’m sowwy,” I say in my cute lisp. “You ow a nice wady.”
“That’s very nice of you to say.” She gets on her knees again. “I’m sure this is very tough for you. I’ll try to help however I can, OK?”
“OK.” She tousles my hair and then leaves me alone to play.
Chapter 12
Four days later, Dr. Nath takes a reading on my arm. She frowns for just a moment, before she forces herself to smile. “Very good, Stacey.”
“What’s it say?”
“That’s not important.”
“Is too.” I run a hand over my body. “I’m not getting bigger, am I?”
“Sure you are.”
“Not by much. I can feel it.”
She sighs and then shows me the meter: 9.1. I should be eleven or twelve by now, on the verge of puberty. Instead I’m still in the single digits. “I’m sorry, Stacey.”
“It’s not fair!” I wail. “I don’t wanna be nine.”
“You probably won’t be stuck at nine.”
“Where will I be stuck?”
“My estimate is somewhere around thirteen.”
I sob at this grim announcement. Thirteen isn’t as bad as nine, but it’s still five years before I’d be an adult, before I could marry Mac. Once my crying is down to just sniffles, I ask, “Can’t you do something? Make me big again?”
“I’m afraid not,” she says. “We’re working very hard—”
“Nuh-uh. You don’t do anything but babysit me.”
“We have a lot of other scientists who are working on it.”
“None of you care about me. You only care about your stupid serum.”
“Dr. Palmer cares about you. So do I.”
“Do not.”
“Why don’t we go next door so you can draw some pretty pictures?”
“I don’t wanna.”
“If you’re good, I’ll bring you something special for lunch.”
“No.”
“I’ll bring you a big hot fudge sundae. How would you like that?”
I think about that for a minute. As much as I hate when Dr. Nath patronizes me, my tummy growls at the thought of ice cream. “OK.”
I follow her next door. Instead of drawing pictures, I grab a couple of Barbie dolls. I rummage through the box to find a white dress that will work as a wedding gown and a suit for Ken to wear. This will be about the closest I get to marrying Mac.
“You may now kiss the bride,” I say to complete my ceremony. I bump Ken and Barbie together. I close my eyes and imagine the kiss I’d give Mac, a little bit open-mouthed without any tongue since we’d be in church. When I open my eyes, I see my tiny body still clad in pink, still just a little girl who can only play at being married.
***
It takes another five days before I become a young woman again. Not really a woman, just old enough to bleed once a month. The monitor says I’m eleven-point-eight. Yesterday I was eleven-point-five. The reaction is getting slower. It’ll stop entirely soon, or at least slow to normal aging. By then I’ll probably be twelve, not even a teenager.
As I lie in bed to cry myself to sleep, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Another hand goes over my mouth before I can scream. “It’s just me,” Dr. Nath whispers. “Be very quiet, all right?”
She takes the hand off my mouth. She turns on a flashlight and holds it up like she’s about to tell a ghost story. “I brought you a present,” she says. “Something very special.”
“What is it?” I ask. I expect a stuffed toy or some more clothes or something similar.
Instead, she holds up a syringe. It’s filled with pink liquid. FY-1978. I whimper and then bury my face into Pinky like I’m still a toddler. Dr. Nath pats my back. “It’s OK, sweetheart. I’m not going to make you a baby again.”
Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction) Page 68