Shrunk! by F. R. Hitchcock Page A

Tilly’s used to hamsters. There’s no way she’ll let him bite her.
    I look at the planet, huge, and I look at the door, tiny. Then I look at our team.
    We’re all useless. We’ve got a lippy miniature devil, my stupid sister, an old lady and Eric.
    Together
    Everyone
    Achieves
    More.
    TEAM. Well, it doesn’t work with planets.
    And it occurs to me, that no one – ever in the history of the world – has had to deal with this problem.
    There’s another cracking sound and Jupiter grows
again,
but there’s nowhere for it to go now, just the ceiling.
    We all step back a pace.
    CRACK.
    The planet swells again and we step back another pace.
    There’s a kind of gap showing underneath, but the top’s gone right up into the roof space. I can see a blue suitcase revolving on the top.
    It ought to be funny, but it isn’t.
    Half the planet’s in the room, and half’s in the attic. It’s broken right through the rafters; all that’s holding it in is the roof itself.
    Eric picks up a pair of fairy wings from the floor and pokes Jupiter. It rolls and bounces like a tennis ball on water. ‘Helium,’ he says. ‘It’s trying to get out.’
    A second later, and I’ve got one foot on Eric’s head the other on one of Grandma’s travelling trunks and I’m tearing slates off the roof and chucking them into the garden.
    â€˜Thing is,’ shouts Eric. ‘We don’t want it to take off. It needs to be launched.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’ I say, tipping a bird’s nest out of the gutter. ‘How do we launch a thing this big?’
    â€˜No idea – but don’t let it get away. We can’t leave it bumbling along over Earth, it might end up in the wrong place.’
    I climb up above Jupiter, and look dismally at the beams holding the slates up. I’d need to get rid of at least two beams to make a hole big enough to put it through, and that would only work if the planet didn’t have another growing spurt.
    â€˜Have you got a saw, Grandma?’
    â€˜Your dad’s got it, for the disappearing box – for goodness’ sake, Tom, hurry up. If it gets any bigger it’ll destroy the whole house.’
    How on earth am I supposed to do this?
    I push against the beams. I can’t possibly do anything with these, they’re rock hard.
    I stare up at the fountains of shooting stars breaking overhead and put my thumb and middle finger together.
    Yes.
    Yes. I can sort this out.
    I climb out on to the roof slates. It’s horribly high, but I try not to think about that. The planet’s nudging the beams, bouncing against them.
    I stand back from the beams as far as I can.
    Click
    Click
    And for good measure.
Click
.
    Three small bars of wood lie in the palm of my hand.
    Yes!
    But the planet’s trying to get out now – it’s as if it’s alive, trying to find a way through the gap. So I put my foot on it. It’s the only thing I can do.
    â€˜Help!’ I shout.
    â€˜Tom?’ calls Eric. ‘Is it free? Could it float away?’
    â€˜Almost,’ I say, watching the sole of my shoe crack in the sub-zero temperature and wondering how long I can stand here. ‘I need something to hold it with, before my foot falls off.’
    â€˜Hang on there.’ Eric stuffs Tilly’s cuddly penguin up through the hole. It’s about the same height as Grandma, in lime green. ‘Use this to hold it, and we’ll get blankets – and ropes.’
    I jam the penguin on top of the planet and clamp it down with my frozen shoe . . . Ice crystals form on the green fluff and creep towards my foot. There’s about a beak left before the ice reaches me. I look down through the hole for Eric. But all I can see is Jacob being dressed by Tilly. He’s now about the size of a large baby, and he’s wearing one of Tilly’s pink babygros.
    â€˜HELP!’ I