Andy watched the clock tick away as Cordelia carried him over to the sink and rolled up her sleeves. “Six minutes into practice.”

“Are you going to keep doing that for the next three hours?”

“I have to occupy myself somehow.”

“Want to help me wash dishes?” Cordelia teased, turning on the water. Grabbing a pink bottle of soap and a sponge, she began scrubbing away.

“That’s one thing I’m not going to miss… Chores.”

Cordelia didn’t respond, but she smirked out the corner of her lip as she dried the inside of a glass.

“Seven minutes.”

She began humming to herself as she started on the plates.

“Eight miiinutes!”

“Andy, shut up!”

“Nine…”

“That’s it,” Cordelia muttered, reaching over for the glass she had finished drying earlier. Turning it upside down, she placed it over top of Andy. His arms were thrashing and his mouth was flapping, but only silenced filled the air. She sighed happily.

Andy threw his shoulder into the glass, trying to knock it over, but the wide base made it too sturdy. Eventually, he just slumped down and laid his body against the glass wall, watching Cordelia scrub the dishes and pay him no mind whatsoever. She was a blur of colors through the glass and yet she still looked beautiful to him, even at this size. But eventually, he found himself staring at the clock over her shoulder, watching those minutes tick away. He could hear his friends now, out on the field, cursing at him for not showing up. Part of him wished Cordelia had stepped on him and ended his misery. Even if she could eventually restore him to normal size, his friends would kill him for letting the whole team down. How could he explain a wild story like this? He didn’t even believe it. And he was living it.

A few minutes later, the glass lifted and Andy found himself tumbling over without the support against his back.

Cordelia laughed from above. “I think I like you this size.”

“Glad one of us does, babe…” Andy straightened himself. “Look, Cori, I’m going to practice. My team is counting on me. You remember that day I had a temperature of 102? Did I give up on my team? No! I went to practice!”

“And threw up on the coach.”

“And what about when I sprained my ankle? Did I give up then?”

“No, you got tackled and broke your other ankle.”

“Do you see what I’m saying, babe?”

“Yes,” Cordelia dried her hands on a towel and rolled her sleeves back down. “You’re an idiot. Every time something is wrong, you go and make it worse. Now how exactly are you going to play football at your current height?”

“Well…”

“There has to be some sort of height limit.”

“This isn’t basketball, Cori.”

“And this isn’t a joke, Andy! You’re a freakin’ midget. You couldn’t play table tennis without getting squashed by the ball.”

“I could still take you.”

“You’re not going to practice. End of story. So sorry.”

Andy clenched his fists. How he wanted to hit her. And yet…that didn’t seem like a very good idea. She didn’t look too happy either. Maybe it was the red in her face, or the grit in her teeth, or maybe the way she grabbed a dish from the sink and hurled it across the room and shattered it against the wall in a million pieces. Somehow, though, he figured he best come up with another brilliant, jock-worthy solution to his predicament.

“She’s obviously looking out for my best interests,” he pondered aloud, “yet she doesn’t see the danger in me missing practice. I must show her that I’m safer showing up for practice than not showing up at all! Perhaps I can outsmart her using that reverse psychology thing I learned about.”

“Stop talking to yourself, Hamlet.”

“Cordelia! What if you go to practice in my place?”

“Sure, Andy. I’ll just chug a few of your power drinks to beef myself up and I’ll end up—oh, just like you. A shrimp.”

“No, no! I have a spare jersey and tons of padding in my locker at school. All you’d have to do is put on my uniform, stuff yourself full of padding, disguise your voice, cut off your hair, don’t take off your helmet, throw a few hundred passes, hide those big ass breasts, and learn how to play football.”

“Big ass breasts...?”

“And then I guess you could go to cheerleading practice.”

“Since that’s exactly what I’d want to do after running around with twenty sweaty guys for two and a half hours.”

“Yeah, see? No problem. Not for Super Cordelia!”

“Stop sucking up. You…suck at it.”

“Sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“Are you going to do it?” Andy asked, showing his puppy dog eyes.

“As if I really have a choice…”

“Just look at it like this, Cori. The longer you can pretend to be me, the longer we can hold off the fact that I’m a two-inch freak.”

“Well, the longer we can hold off the fact you’re two inches, at least.”

“Yeah! Then after practice, we can tell my parents that I’m staying over at your place for the night.”

“Which they’ll simply love.”

“And that’ll buy us at least a day or two!”

“Until you don’t show up for school.”

“I’ll work on that. You go have fun at practice.”

“Yeah, uh…” Cordelia scooped Andy into her palm. “You’re coming too. You have to teach me how to play football on the way.”