She was nervous the morning of her appointment, and Kyle could tell.  He spoke with her very softly all the way to the doctor’s office, reminding her how simple the procedure was, how she could back out at any time if she didn’t feel comfortable.  She spoke only once, and though her voice was shaky, she was firm.  “I’m tired of being a burden.”  After that, Kyle let the matter drop.

There were four septum top glass vials, and the doctor patiently explained each as he prepared the injections.  The first was a cocktail of genetic amplifiers and transcription factors, tailored specifically to Monica’s condition.  The second was a pituitary stimulant.  The third contained the building blocks of estrogen, testosterone, and several hormones associated with late-term pregnancy.  The final vial contained laboratory-generated stem cells, and a host of factors usually present in the body only during very early childhood. 

“In essence,” he explained, while applying the fourth band-aid to Monica’s arm.  “It will make your body simultaneously think it’s in puberty, pregnant, and less than a year old.  Don’t underestimate that last one – the body undergoes rapid, almost exponential growth during that period.”  He chuckled.  “Not that you need to worry about anything so dramatic, little lady.”

Kyle asked her three times if she was okay on the drive home.  “I promise you, I am,” Monica replied yet again, and if there was exasperation in her voice it was highly tempered by affection.  “They were big needles, sure – but they were only needles.  I’m fragile, I admit, but it isn’t like I’m made of glass.”

Kyle straightened slightly.  “Okay sure – but it’s not the needles that has me worried – it’s all that goop inside them.”

She reached over, and gently patted his hand.  “I appreciate your concern, I really do.  If there’s anything wrong, I’ll tell you.  For right now….”  Monica seemed to consider, staring out the window, kicking her feet thoughtfully.  “I feel a bit antsy, like I just drank a big cup of coffee.  Other than that, I actually feel kind of good.”

At twenty-two, Monica was three years older than him.  At a glance, no one would guess that she was any older than nine or ten.  She had a rare genetic disorder that had caused her to grow very slowly throughout childhood, and had topped out at just over four feet tall around her thirteenth birthday.  This, combined with her total lack of womanly curves, and short blond hair which stubbornly failed to grow even down to her shoulders, completed the illusion of a little girl just ready for fifth grade. 

Growing up together, Kyle had made it clear that if anyone made fun of her or threatened her safety, they would have to deal with him.  This resulted in several fights, very few of which he won.  Monica had appreciated his devotion all the same, offering him thanks, apologizing for all the trouble her small stature was to him.  Kyle had never complained.  The two were close.  He loved his sister, and she loved him.   

The big house was quiet with just the two of them.  Their parents had left that previous evening to visit family in the old country, and expected to be gone for most of the summer.  The two sat around the kitchen table, not sure yet to do with the place all to themselves.  They talked, voices hushed.  Inevitably, the subject came around to how much bigger Monica might grow before the summer ended.

“Mom’s five two, and dad’s about five eight,” she mused.  “They’re really both on the short side.  You’re lucky you’re as tall as you are.”

“What can I say?” Kyle, who was just over six feet tall, replied.  He struck a pose, flexing.  “I always ate my Wheaties.”

“Uh-huh, THAT’S what did it.  Not luck of the genetic draw or anything.”  Monica rolled her eyes.  “Anyway, I bet I can get as tall as mom by the end of summer.  With a little luck, I could even eek out dad.”  She smiled wistfully.  “It’s even possible I could end up as tall as you.”

Kyle frowned.  “That sounds…kind of optimistic.  Don’t most people only grow a few inches on the treatment?  Maybe you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“You obviously haven’t studied up on it the way I have,” Monica replied, her dark eyes hardening, her lip jutting out petulantly.  Kyle knew that look – it was the same one their mother wore, when she was determined to get her way.  “The growth response is just under four inches – ON AVERAGE.  According to the more in-depth literature, the effect is more pronounced for women, for young adults aged eighteen to twenty-five, AND proportionately more efficacious for very short individuals.  In other words: for people like ME.  My back-of-the-envelope work suggests I should expect to grow a foot, minimum.”

“You’re already got two of the prettiest little feet I’ve ever seen,” Kyle teased.  “Why would you want a third one?”

“You’re the worst,” Monica sighed, suppressing a laugh.  She pushed back from the table, and moved to jump down from her chair.

“Where are you going?” Kyle asked – more sharply than he intended.

“Um…to…get a glass of water?”  She considered for a moment, then sat back down.  “Oh r-right.  Sorry.”

Kyle stood up, and made for the cupboard.  “Yeah – that’s my job.  I’m supposed to be taking extra-special care of you, right?”  He laughed.  “I mean, more than I usually do.”

Monica said nothing, but chewed on her lip, looking as if she had something to say.  When Kyle offered her a glass, she took it gratefully with both her little hands.  “Thank you.”  She took a small sip, staring at him thoughtfully.  “I’m still feeling jittery – if you were curious.  Like I know you’d thought I’d be feeling under the weather after the treatment?  I’m not.  In fact I’ve got so much energy right now, I just want to go run laps around the house, or move furniture, or….”

“Why don’t we just stay inside today?” Kyle interrupted.  “Even if you’re feeling good, let’s just stick to the plan.  No strenuous activity for at least two days.  The way we agreed, right?”

Again she rolled her eyes at him, but then she nodded her acceptance.  “Okay lil’ bro…you probably know best.”  She lifted her eyes, and gave him a naughty little smile.  “After all, I AM a growing girl.

The day passed slowly, with the two of them taking turns choosing shows on Netflix.  They both went to bed early, mostly from boredom.  In the morning, Monica was bigger.