Lilla (GT)

Maria (13)

This is not good. I can't take care of a giant. I can't even reach him. So, so, so bad. This is all my fault. I totally jinxed him! Oh, my goodness! He's not even going to be able to move by the end of this! What am I gonna do?! Breath. Okay... OH MY GOODNESS HE WON'T EVEN BE ABLE TO BREATH BY THE END OF THIS! HE'LL BE DEAD! I AM SUCH A BAD PERSON! Okay, one problem at a time. Getting onto the three hundred and something foot bed is a problem. I stared at the bed and thought. And thought. And thought. And went blank. And tried to think. And learned something. I thought Alex was a about one hundred fifty feet tall. Therefore, I guessed wrong because that bed is AT LEAST three hundred feet tall. LEAST. Luckily, I didn't have to climb it, because Alex conveniently woke up and just put me on the bed. Yay. But terrifying. After that, he faceplanted back onto the bed, missed his pillow by a good twenty feet, and tried again with more success. He looked tired, so I assumed he just fell asleep in a couple seconds. Wrong. He was awake. I know this because he asked me a muffled question: "So, I guess you got stuck with me, huh?" Well, I think it counts as a question, but English is complicated, so, I have no idea. I nodded, but, his face was stuck in his pillow, so he didn't see it, and I guess he didn't want to look up, so he asked again, just made the question shorter.

"I guess." I muttered. I didn't want to be rude, but I didn't want to be bubbly in a situation like this, so, I just went with the classic mutter. He raised his head so that his chin rested on his arms. He had put me in front of him when he put me on the bed, so he was able to look at me without turning his head. Then he stared at me blankly. .... I feel uncomfortable. He needs to not stare at me. I noticed that I was, maybe as tall as his eye. I feel short.

"What?" I asked. Did I look funny?

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at me." I stated, taking a step or two backwards.

"Is it bothering you?" He asked, though he didn't look away.

"A little." I answered. He turned over so that he was looking up in response.

"Sorry." He apologized. Okay, then. Now I feel more uncomfortable.

"What were you doing?" I asked, self-conscious.

"I was just looking at you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He explained (or stated the obvious.

"Why? Do I look strange?" I asked, surprising myself with the courage to keep talking.

He laughed. "No. Apart from being so small, there's nothing strange about you at all."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I can't help how small I am to you." I said fiercely and stupidly. I knew I had made a bad decision as soon as I said it. Now he was gonna get mad. I braced for it, not knowing what "it" was, but expecting the worst. And I still wasn't prepared for what happened.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you, either. I just.... Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." He apologized AGAIN. That really knocked the wind out of me. I need to catch my breath.

"I shouldn't have snapped." Was the closest thing I could get to anything like an apology. What? He still eats people.

"That's not your fault. I shouldn't have said that. You were right to." He. Need. To. Stop. Apologizing. Or. I. Will. Be. Dead. Before. He. Is. Oof.

"So.... Why were you looking at me?" I want to know, okay? Don't judge me.

"You're not giving up, are you?" he asked, avoiding the question, then he turned it into his own: "Why are you so obsessed with finding out anyway?"

"Maybe I want to know if there's something wrong so I can fix it." I remarked.

"Maybe you're pretty and I wanted to get a good look at you before I go blind." He said in the same tone. Then he blushed. REALLY HARD. So did I, but I don't think it was as clear as it was on him. He had really pale skin, even though I was the one with the serious lack of sunlight.

"Uh... thanks... I guess... and sorry... that was awkward... I guess... um..." I stuttered, just as embarrassed as he was. He gave a slight laughed. I think. It was like one of those "that wasn't super funny but it was ever so slightly laughable" laughs, not a "oh, my goodness that was so funny I can't breathe" laughs. I decided to not talk and to instead make myself useful and check his temperature. I did not like his temperature. And it did not like me, either. It left a nice red tinge on my now stinging arm. He BURNED me. "What's your average temperature?" I asked, forgetting my "vow" of silence.

"I don't know."

Well, that's helpful. How do you not know what your average temperature is? It's not a hard question. It supposed to be the same for everyone. But then why isn't be burning?

"How." I asked.

"How do you figure it out?" He asked.

"With a thermometer." I answered, forgetting what century this planet was in.

"A what?" he asked. "How's it work?"

"Uh... it... uhhhh... um... I... temperature." I stuttered, forgetting how a thermometer worked.

"Huh?" He asked. "Hey, what's yours?"

"My what?" I asked stupidly.

"Your average third-o-meter." He specified.

I laughed. I couldn't help it, okay? .... third-o-meter...

"Uh, temperature, and 98.6." I corrected him, then answered.

"Oh. What's that mean?" he asked.

"I don't know." I said, giving up. Not even going to try to explain that.

".... Okay...."

"Anyways, you're hot." I said, "Seriously."

"I'm glad you think I'm hot."

"Uh, I meant... physically, I mean not physically, but.... Uhhhh.... You know what I meant!" I stuttered, obviously embarrassed. I didn't even know he knew that much.... uhhhh... is slang the right word for it?

"I know." He laughed. Then, in an instant, his playful energy was gone. In fact, all his energy was gone. I think he fell asleep, for real this time. I walked over and sat beside his head, then fell for some reason, so I ended up with my back against his head. Whatever. I'm too lazy to move. His hair shielded me from the heat, so I didn't really care. I understand that I'm supposed to fear and hate this dude, but I can't help feeling sorry for him. I stood up and walked to the edge of the bed, which is totally terrifying to look down from, and tried to figure out a way to get down, so that maybe I can ask my mom how the heck I should do about this. I looked around, there was a very tall bed, sheets (that were not in use at the moment), an Alex, and a pillow, like, ten times the size of my house, and the Alex looks asleep. Maybe I can use the sheets. I pulled the (surprisingly heavy) sheets to the edge of the bed, then threw them over it. Now I can slide down them, and then probably break my ankles by failing to stick the landing. Oh, well. I forced myself to slide down the sheet and made it to the floor without having a heart attack. Then I walked to and through the little door and started toward my home.