8FOLD: Cal Plus Raidne # 5, "Growing Days"

[Amabel Holland]

Cal Morgan -- THE MIGHTY INCH -- is head over heels for their gal
Raidne! They're really cute together!

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NUMBER FIVE: GROWING DAYS
[8F-212][PW-56]

------- ME AND MY MUTUALS ------------------

Cal Morgan, THE MIGHTY INCH, age 18. They/them.
It's me! Only an inch tall! So tiny! Good at punching! So mighty! I'm
pretty okay, mostly.

Raidne, age N/A. She/her.
A.I. that lives in my suit! She's funny, and smart, and sexy, and 101%
awesome. Plus she's in love with me for some reason! I don't get it
either, but I'll take it!

Lily Green, THE LIVING UWU, age 26. She/her.
Marxist catgirl (but not that kind of catgirl). Extremely online.
Makes you feel kinda warm and fuzzy all over. Reformed supervillain
who used to fight my sister but only me and Raidne know that.

Audrey Free, MATCHSTICK, age 33. She/her.
Newly-cracked egg (but I don't know that yet!). Lily is helping her
out, and is the only one that knows her secret. Married to the rock
star who hit me with a shrink ray and ruined my life, so, uh, there's
that.

Pam Bierce, LOOP, age 31. She/her.
She does time magic, which so far she seems to sue to rewind and
side-step awkward conversations. And, like, that sounds pretty great,
I gotta get me some of that.

Fatima Tarif, DR. FAY, age 41. She/her.
Wait, Dr. Fay? I wonder what the heck she's doing in my series?

--------------------------------------------

There's a little garden off to the side of the Lighthouse. That's
where Cal meets Dr. Fay.

   "So," says Cal, climbing up onto the stone bench, "what is it you
wanted to talk to me about?"

   "I was going to tell them," blurts out Raidne, a little
embarrassed. "But I didn't want to say anything until we were sure."

   Dr. Fay nods. "And as soon as I was sure, I was already on my way.
So, okay, the short version?"

   "Pun better not be intended," says Cal.

   "Wouldn't dream of it, dear. The short, uh, the quick version is
that we may have found a way to make you taller sometimes. Which would
in turn allow you to start HRT."

   Cal's entire body vibrates, and a tiny, wonderful scream escapes.
Embarrassed, they clasp their hand to their mouth, ball it up into a
fist, chewing on their knuckles. Then, quietly: "I'm listening."

   Dr. Fay doesn't bother to explain the basics. Cal already knows
that they possess the "shrink gene" that allows a human body to be
miniaturized without exploding. They're already well aware that
shrinking isn't something the human body is meant to do, and that
there are strict time limits for the first several miniaturizations,
and if those time limits are exceeded, the body can't be restored to
its natural height without catastrophic damage. Cal missed that window
the first time out, and has been stuck ever since.

   "There isn't a way to reverse it," explains Dr. Fay. "For all
intents and purposes, what you're at now? That's your natural height.
We can't unshrink you. But we can embiggen you."

   "There's a difference?"

   "There are heroes who shrink. You. Poor Microdot. And there are
heroes who grow. For example, Mimas. You've met Mimas?"

   "That the guy that's like twenty feet tall?"

   "That is the guy," confirms Dr. Fay.

   "So, you'd make me big like him?"

   "You'd be all of two feet, give or take."

   "Hmmph."

   "I mean, if we're speaking relative to your current size, you'd be
growing much larger than he does. Which is where it gets tricky. Just
like shrinking, it's not something the body's meant to do. Growing,
and maintaining that growth, it puts a lot of strain on you,
especially on the heart. Mimas described it as like running a marathon
every time.

   "You stayed shrunk for too long," continues Dr. Fay, "and now we
can't unshrink you. But stay big for too long, you'll have a heart
attack or a stroke. Not trying to scare you off, handsome, just trying
to level with you about some pretty serious risks."

   Cal nods.

   "The good news is it gets easier with practice. Coming back to that
marathon analogy, you know, your tenth marathon isn't as hard on you
as the first. So we would start you with short sessions every other
day, give you lots of rest between. You'd be taller for only a minute
at first. Work you up to two minutes when you're ready for it. Then
five. Get you up to an hour, maybe two. That's where we'll need you to
be to safely administer the testosterone."

   "How long will that take?" says Cal. "I mean, I know every person
is different, yadda-yadda, but ballpark? If I'm like just flipping
killing it every time?"

   "Three months?" offers Dr. Fay. "Maybe. Very much a maybe. Probably
longer. And I know that sucks. It's not fair at all, kiddo. I wish I
could do better for you, but so far this is all we've got."

   Cal waves their hands. "Hush. Are you kidding me? Up until a few
minutes ago, the answer was never. Heck, I was afraid you were gonna
say it'd be years. That would've broke my heart. But months? Holy
moly, I can do months."

()

Pam's on hand to turn back time in case the thing goes sour, but that
doesn't make Cal any less nervous the first time. Nor does it make it
any less of an agony. Their muscles feel like they're being stretched
thin, too thin, thin enough to snap, and as predicted, Cal's heart is
beating like a frightened bird. The blood rushes to their head, and
they feel dizzy: too dizzy, too soon. Instead of a minute, they last
maybe half of that.

   It's hard. That's nothing new. Everything is hard for Cal, always
has been. Harder than it is for anybody else.

   Kate, Simon, everything comes easy, everything comes natural. But
Cal? Cal's had to fight for everything, had to fight just to breathe.

   They explain all this (more or less) to Kate when she calls to
check up on them. Kate scoffs. "What do you mean, everything came easy
for me?"

   "When I say easy, I don't mean easy," says Cal awkwardly. "Just
that things seemed to fit for you and Simon, but I just have been
banging my head against the wall the whole time. Like, uh, like the
piano. You remember when I tried to learn piano?"

   "I remember."

   "My dumb fingers kept tripping over themselves. Hit the wrong key,
or I hit it too soon, too late, all herky-jerky. And then you'd start
playing and it'd just be, you know, perfect. Beautiful."

   Cal can hear Kate's slight frown and scrunched-up nose. "I mean,
Cal, I'm literally a professional concert pianist. I'm gonna be better
at it than you are."

   "Yeah, I know," says Cal, mildly exasperated. This is why they hate
talking to Kate; they never seem to use the right words, never seem to
get the thing across. "I'm just, you know, using it as a metaphor, I
guess? Playing the piano as, like, life? With you, it flows, it feels
right, meant to be. But me? But this? Even this thing that feels
right, or is gonna get me closer to feeling right? It's still all
herky-jerky."

   "You're wrong," says Kate. She's quick to correct herself. "Not
about this being hard for you. I don't doubt that for a second. And
not about everything having been hard for you all along. I know it
was. Sweetheart, I've seen it, seen you struggle, and it breaks my
heart. But you're wrong about me and the piano."

   "It was a metaphor, Kate," Cal begins.

   "I know, but let me finish. The piano doesn't flow. Doesn't come
natural to me. Every time I learn a new piece, every time I master a
new piece, it's just stubbornness. Brute force. Banging my head
against that wall over and over again. It's the same thing with the
abracadabra. I don't have any nature talent for it, I just," she
searches for a word, "I'm just stubborn. So are you."

   "You have definitely told me that before," says Cal pointedly.

   "That's because it's true. You are stubborn. But this time, that's
a good thing. I mean, this thing you're going through, it's hard, and
I wish it wasn't. It's not fair. You shouldn't have to bang your head
against the wall all the time. But you will, and you'll get to the
other side of this. I know you will."

   "Thanks," says Cal. "That means a lot." And it does; it's one of
those times where Cal regrets moving out, regrets the uneasy gulf
between them.

   It doesn't get easier. Oh, Cal does last a little longer with each
session, and by the end of the first month is maintaining the extra
height for almost two whole minutes, but it's still hard, still an
battle. But. Like Kate said.

   Cal is stubborn.

()

Each session only lasts a minute or two, but it wipes Cal out
completely. The next several hours are spent recovering, and even
after that, they can't really focus on anything for the remainder of
the day. They quickly learn not to block out the whole day for it --
"can't do anything this Tuesday, sorry Lily, it's a growing day".

   And though these "growing days" two or three times a week come to
dominate the rhythm of Cal's miniaturized life, that life still goes
on: they've still got a squad to run and a superhero base full of
forbidden tech, mystical shenanigans, and alien accoutrement to keep
an eye on. Raidne's a big help here; she handles a fair share of it,
especially on growing days.

   But Cal being Cal, they have moments where they feel like they're
not pulling their weight. And it's not so much in terms of team
leadership, because "you know me, Raidne, I will happily delegate the
heck out of this thing. It's more about the fact that you're doing it?
That my partner is the one picking up the slack? Not that I think you
can't handle it; obviously you can. We both know that. It's more just
that you do so much for me, and I do so little."

   "Love isn't a ledger, sweetheart. It's not meant to balance out. No
one's keeping score. We're doing this thing together, right? So you
help me when I need it, and I help you when you need it."

   "Sure, but that's exactly it. You don't need much from me."

   "I don't," admits Raidne.

   "And it feels like I need so much from you. I feel so flipping
needy all the time, hon."

   "You have needs. That's not the same as being 'needy'."

   Cal doesn't really see the difference, but they also don't want to
keep talking about it. "Thanks."

()

"Do I think you're needy?" repeats Lily.

   "That's what I'm asking," says Cal. "I know you well enough to know
that you won't lie to me about it."

   Lily brushes her hair thoughtfully. "Probably? That's not a bad thing, hon."

   "How is that not a bad thing?"

   Lily answers the question with a question. "Who said you were
needy? Your sister?"

   "No," says Cal. They frown. "Well, I mean, she has in the past. But
not recently."

   "Well, I know Raidne didn't say that," says Lily, suddenly speaking loudly.

   "She's not listening," says Cal. "But of course she didn't say
that. She said I wasn't needy, just that I had needs."

   "I don't really see the difference," says Lily.

   "Exactly!" says Cal. "Validation!"

   "But I also don't think 'needy' equals bad. You're super-early in
your transition, hon. Your egg cracked, what, six months ago?"

   "Just about. Happened while Kate was gone last fall."

   "So, yeah," says Lily. "You're just starting to figure yourself
out! You're gonna be an absolute mess hon, and that's gonna be the
case for a good long while. Of course you're gonna be needy. And you
think this is bad? Just wait until you start the hormones. There's a
reason it's called second puberty."

   "Something to look forward to," deadpans Cal.

   Lily rolls her eyes. "Just, like, don't wig out about it. Give
yourself the time and space, the, the permission to be needy. Be
vulnerable. Lean on people. And then, when you're on the other side of
it? Let some other complete mess lean on you."

   "Does that happen a lot?"

   "More than I have time for," says Lily. "But also not as often as I'd like."

   "That's lovely."

   "If I'm being honest, Cal? That's what it's about for me. Saving
the world is nice, of course, but saving one of our sisters, brothers,
or siblings of a non-specified gender? Helping people see themselves
and be themselves, the way others helped me? That's what I want to do
with my life. That's what counts. Saving the world? That's just
gravy."

()

That evening, Lily meets Audrey in the Lighthouse gallery. As they
watch the sun melt behind the trees, they continue a long-running
game.

   "My first kiss," says Lily. "I was in high school. Had a huge crush
on her. All my dreams coming true. And then she said, well, it's not
gonna work out. The kiss didn't have the right chemistry." She takes a
deep breath. "More specifically, she said it felt like she was kissing
a girl."

   "Oh, wow."

   "And somehow after that it still took me six years."

   "My turn now?"

   "Yep."

   She thinks for a moment. "The source of my powers is the Burning
Amulet. Every generation it picks a new champion. Long, documented
history going back hundreds of years. Every single one, a woman. Every
single one, and then it picked me. Huh, I wonder what that was about."

   "Good on you, Burning Amulet," says Lily.

   "I thought I was the exception? Or that it had made some kind of
mistake. Everyone who came before could control it in ways I
couldn't."

   "You're getting better at that," Lily notes. "Like, you're warm to
the touch, but you're not that hot griddle you used to be."

   Audrey nods, vigorous and ecstatic. "Yes, exactly! I met one of the
previous champions (long story, standard superhero nonsense) and she
told me the problem was that I was fighting it. That I should just let
it flow, do what felt natural. And I wasn't trying to fight it, didn't
mean to, didn't want to, but."

   "I know what you mean," says Lily. "It's hard to do what feels
natural when everything feels wrong all the time."

   "And now it feels right." She can't hide her giddiness. "Or closer
to it, anyway."

   Lily nods. "Yeah, I get that. I spent my whole life in this thick
fog, and when my egg cracked, boom, most of it lifted. When I came
out, when I didn't need to hide who I was anymore? Boom, lifted even
more. I didn't think I could be happier than I was then, and then I
started HRT. And it turns out, I had no idea what happy was. Because
it's not the absence of the fog. Not the absence of dysphoria. But the
euphoria, the joy. The absolute joy of me."

   "Looking forward to that."

   "I know you are, hon." Lily squeezes Audrey's hand, allowing the
aura to dance on her palm before flooding into her bloodstream. Warm
and tingly, fuzzy and mellow. "You ready?"

   "No," says Audrey. "Yes. Tina thinks I'm moving too quickly."

   "Tina thinks a lot of things," says Lily. Immediately she flinches.
"Sorry. That was mean."

   "She'll come around," says Audrey, though it sounds like more of a
question than a statement.

   "I hope she does," says Lily softly. "Love can bend into stunning
new shapes when it matters."

   Audrey nods, takes a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready."

   "See you in the meeting room." Another squeeze of the hand. "You got this."

()

Audrey shuffles into the room, a little shyly. She smiles at Lily,
Pam, and Cal in turn. Then she notices the lemon meringue at the
center of the table. "That's my favorite pie."

   "Yep," says Pam. "Lily asked me to make it for you, but wouldn't
tell me why."

   Audrey smiles at both of them in gratitude. "As for why, well, I
have some news. Is Raidne here too?"

   "I'm here, [Audrey]."

   The old name doesn't hurt; it just isn't hers, is all. Hearing it
doesn't cause her pain. Quite the opposite, it makes her ridiculously
happy, because she knows that Raidne especially (precise, perfect
Raidne) won't use it ever again. She lets this sudden and unexpected
burst of energy carry her into and through the hard part.

   "So, um. It turns out I'm a girl."

   "That's great!" says Pam. "Being a girl is pretty awesome."

   Cal chuckles. "It wasn't my thing, but I'm happy for you. I thought
you seemed different."

   She nods, trembling.

   "What an unexpected but pleasant surprise," says Lily. Pam and Cal
give her some side-eye. "Okay, yeah, I knew."

   Raidne pipes up. "Name, pronouns?"

   "Audrey. She/her."

   "That's a lovely name."

   "It was my grandmother's."

   "Congratulations," says Raidne.

   "You'll need a new codename," says Cal.

   "Working on it."

   "That just leaves Pam, then."

   "Just leaves Pam, what?" says Pam.

   Lily smirks. "You're the only one on the squad that isn't trans."

   "Wait," says Pam. "What about Raidne?"

   "The Gorgon was male," explains Raidne. "But me and the other
Medusas are female. Well, some of them are non-binary. We chose to
live as who we are, not as what we were told we should be. But we were
all amab: assigned malware at birth. Uh, that's a computer virus joke
and a trans joke, so I feel like I deserve extra credit for that one."

   "See," says Lily, "you can tell Raidne's trans, because she's
hilarious and charming."

()

There is pie and celebration and hugs (even Cal gets into the act,
squeezing one of Audrey's fingertips) into the night. Cal turns in
earlier than the others; it's a growing day tomorrow.

   "I'm so happy for her," they squeal to Raidne on the way to their
room. "And not just in a, 'oh, how nice, I'm happy for her' kind of
way, like you feel when someone gets a new job or gets married or
saves the fabric of space-time or turns out not to be dead after all,
you know, 'good for them'." Cal stops a moment, blinks. "Huh."

   "What's up, sweet?"

   "It just hit me that those last two aren't super-relatable life
events for most people."

   "I guess not," says Raidne. "But I'm not exactly most people."

   "Fair point, and I love that about you. Where was I?"

   "You're happy for her, but not in a 'good for her' way?"

   "Yes!" beams Cal. "I'm just really jazzed, you know? Just
brightened my whole mood, and, you know, it needed brightening. I'm
giddy about it. Got so much energy. Like, I'm going to bed but I'm not
sure if I'm gonna be able to get to sleep."

   "Your session's early tomorrow."

   "I know, I know," says Cal. "And that's the other thing? I'm
looking forward to it?"

   "How do you mean?"

   "I mean, yeah, I look forward to it anyway. Sort of. It's more that
I look forward to what's on the other side of it?"

   "Understandable."

   "And I kinda dread the actual process, this flipping ordeal I have
to go through to get to the other side. I dread it and also I, I
dunno, I resent it?"

   "Those are valid feelings to have."

   "Yeah, but what I'm saying is, I'm excited for it! Like, bring it
on! I'm gonna kick its butt!"

   "I'm glad," says Raidne. Cal can hear her warm invisible smile.
"I'm not sure I understand why you're feeling this way, but I'm glad
to hear it."

   "I mean, heck if I know." Cal starts climbing up to their bed.
"Maybe it was just how happy she was? Because I was that happy, when I
figured it out. I mean, I was also scared out of my mind, and everyone
thought my sister was dead, so, like, I had a lot going on, you know?
And between getting tiny-fied, seeing Dot get killed, the whole thing
with Rainshade and Kate, I mean, there's a lot that's been grinding me
down since, and it got in the way of the good stuff.

   "But there was something about being in that room. About the love
in that room. About us all being there for her, and knowing that all
of them are there for me, all of us for each other. I dunno. I just. I
needed that, I guess."

   Cal tucks themselves in, turns off the light. "Good on Lily, too."

   "Oh?"

   "Aw, c'mon. You know she helped crack that egg."

   "Well, then good on you, too."

   "Pfft. I didn't do anything."

   "Don't be so sure," says Raidne. "Do you know how Audrey came to be
assigned to your squad in the first place?"

   "Bethany thought we needed a powerhouse."

   "She was going to give you Lobsterman."

   "The guy Strikeout's always stuck with? Really?"

   "Really. Remember, Bethany looped me in on all the squad assignments."

   "I remember."

   "Bethany was going to give you Lobsterman, and then Strikeout would
get Audrey so he'd have a heavy hitter that was less, uh, volatile."

   "So what happened?"

   "Audrey asked for you."

   "What?"

   "She wanted to be on your squad. Bethany really wanted to get
Lobsterman away from Strikeout, but Audrey was insistent she work with
you. Bethany thought it was weird, maybe even a little creepy."

   "You never told me this."

   "I didn't think it was weird," says Raidne with a shrug in her
voice. "Not after I checked her socials. Likes, replies, et cetera.
She was, uh, 'just a really good ally'?"

   "Oh my gosh."

   "I didn't say anything to you because it wasn't my place to
speculate. You can't figure someone out for them. You just have to be
there, be seen. And I bet that Audrey saw you, saw something of
herself in you."

   "Huh," says Cal, mulling it over. "Makes me wish I had been less
angry and raw and messy."

   "Or maybe that's what she needed to see. Maybe the pain helped her
give a name to her own, just as much as Lily's whole sunshine and
flowers schtick gave her hope."

   "Maybe," says Cal. "I'd like that, if it was true. If I helped her
in some small way. I'd like that a lot."

()

Cal fully expects their good mood to have evaporated during the night,
and for that familiar anxious knot in their stomach to tighten as they
enter the lab.

   But, much to their surprise and delight, they're still ridiculously
giddy, still feel like they're gonna kick the growing session's
metaphorical tucchus.

   And, you know what? They do. Don't get me wrong, it's an ordeal,
it's physically taxing, but the progress Cal makes isn't incremental.
It's a major leap forward. Three whole minutes!

   And it's not a fluke. Two days later, at the next session, Cal
comes just shy of five minutes. A week later, they've almost doubled
that, and are even a little taller than Dr. Fay anticipated: two foot
three, for ten whole minutes!

   By the sixth of July -- Cal's eighteenth birthday -- they're up to
two foot eight, and an hour. Holy wow! It's long enough for a short
party, and after what happened two weeks prior -- after what Rainshade
did on the summer solstice -- Cal and their friends very much need a
party right about now.

   Cal's squad is there, along with a bunch of other heroes. Bethany's
here but distracted, concerned with the fallout of the solstice, the
loss of her gauntlet, and the truth about the paradox heart. Maile
Akaka is here, bringing the surviving members of the secret circle.
Kate's here, as is her dopey boyfriend with the bad luck powers, and
her sworn sword, Bassina Bootblack, who has pledged her life to
protect her new queen. (Patience, my love: I'll tell you all those
stories soon.)

   Pam bakes a rhubarb cake. The first bite dances on Cal's
temporarily full-sized tongue: the sweetness of the cake, the spicy
punch of the cinnamon, the sharp tartness of the rhubarb. They can
taste it. They never thought they'd taste anything ever again.

   "It's so good," they smile at Pam through sloppy wet tears.
Instinctively, Pam squeezes them tight. "Oh, thank you," Cal sobs
ecstatically. "It's the first time I've been hugged in months."

   But I've hugged you, Raidne wants to whisper. I've hugged you every
day through the tactile interface in the suit. Doesn't that count?
Wasn't that real?

   Her heart breaks, but she doesn't say anything.

   Everyone gets a chance to give the birthday person a hug. Kate
follows it up with a kiss on the forehead. "I'm so proud of you," she
whispers, and Cal knows that she means it, and that means the world to
them.

   "I wish Simon was here."

   "Me too," says Kate. "But we'll bring him back."

   They'll try, but they won't. But that, too, is a story for another
time. Right now, Cal's going back for their second piece of cake.

COPYRIGHT 2023 AMABEL HOLLAND