Lego trap

The afternoon sun was beating down on the roof of the SUV as we cruised down the highway. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the trees blur into a messy smudge of green. Beside me, Emerson was tapping a rhythm on her knees, her eyes fixed on the passing cars. We were both excited, mostly because any car ride with Emerson’s dad usually involved loud music and the promise of a fun afternoon, but also because we were on a mission.

We were heading to Miss Mary’s house. She used to be our babysitter back when we were really little, and today we were picking up Emerson’s three-year-old sister, Stella.

"How much longer, Dad?" Emerson asked, leaning forward toward the front seat.

"About ten more minutes," her dad replied, glancing at us through the rearview mirror with a grin. "You two better be on your best behavior. Miss Mary’s house isn't a playground, even if she does have that legendary Lego room you both keep talking about."

"We know, we know," I said, sharing a look with Emerson. We were ten and nine, practically grown up compared to Stella. We weren't going to go running around like toddlers.

When we finally pulled into the gravel driveway of the Victorian-style house, the air felt still and heavy. Miss Mary was already standing on the porch, holding Stella’s hand. Stella let out a squeal when she saw the car, waving her free hand frantically.

We all piled out of the car. Emerson’s dad gave Miss Mary a polite nod and a wave. "Hey, Mary! Hope she wasn't too much trouble today."

"Not at all, not at all," Miss Mary said, her voice sounding a bit higher and sharper than I remembered. She had a strange glint in her eyes. "But before you head out, why don't the girls come inside for a moment? I have something absolutely marvelous to show them in the Lego room. It’ll only take a minute."

Emerson’s dad checked his watch. "Well, I suppose we have a second. I need to grab Stella’s diaper bag from the kitchen anyway."

"Perfect," Miss Mary chirped. She looked at me and Emerson. "Come along, girls. You won't believe what I've been working on."

We followed her through the hallway, the floorboards creaking under our sneakers. The house smelled like cinnamon and old plastic. When we reached the Lego room, my jaw nearly dropped. It was filled from floor to ceiling with bins of colorful bricks, half-finished castles, and intricate spaceships. But in the center of the room stood something new. It was a strange, metallic archway decorated with blinking lights and tiny, spinning gears.

"What is that?" Emerson asked, stepping closer to the device.

Miss Mary turned to us, her smile widening until it looked a little too tight. "This, my dears, is my newest invention. I call it the 'Youthful Horizon.' It has the power to turn back the clock. It can turn people back into toddlers."

I laughed, thinking she was joking. "That’s funny, Miss Mary. Is it made of Legos?"

She didn't laugh back. She stepped closer to us, her voice dropping to a low, serious whisper. "It isn't a toy, Emmaleena. It works. And I’ve decided that I miss having little ones around the house. I want you two to stay here for the entire month of summer break. I want you to tell your dad that you want to stay here with me."

Emerson stepped back, her brow furrowed. "Stay here for a month? No way! We have soccer camp and we were going to go to the pool every day. We don't want to stay here."

"I agree," I added, feeling a sudden chill. "We want to go home."

Miss Mary’s expression shifted instantly. The kindness vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "Oh, is that so?"

Suddenly, she reached out and violently kicked a large, intricate Lego tower that sat on a low table nearby. The structure shattered, hundreds of bricks cascading across the floor like plastic rain.

"Emerson!" Miss Mary shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Why would you do that? That took me weeks to build!"

"What? I didn't touch it!" Emerson cried out, her face turning pale.

Just then, Emerson’s dad came jogging into the room, holding Stella’s pink bag. He stopped dead when he saw the mess on the floor and Miss Mary’s distressed face.

"What happened?" he asked, looking between us.

"Oh, it’s just terrible," Miss Mary said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief that appeared out of nowhere. "Emerson just lost her temper and smashed my masterpiece. I’m afraid it’s going to take weeks to put back together."

"Emerson, I expected better from you," her dad said, his voice stern.

"I didn't do it, Dad! She kicked it!" Emerson protested, her voice shaking.

Miss Mary sighed heavily. "Actually, while you were in the kitchen, the girls were just telling me how much they wanted to stay here for a month this summer. They said they wanted to help me around the house and play with the Legos. Now, I suppose, they'll have plenty of time to fix what they broke."

"We never said that!" I shouted, looking at Emerson’s dad. "She’s lying!"

But Emerson’s dad was already looking at the mess and then back at Miss Mary. He looked tired and a little frustrated. "Well, if you girls are going to act like children and break things, maybe some time away from your electronics and the pool is exactly what you need. And since you already asked to stay..."

"But we didn't!" Emerson yelled.

"That’s enough," her dad said firmly. "I noticed you both brought your gym bags today because you were going to the park later. You have clothes and toothbrushes in there, right?"

"Yeah, but—" I started.

"Good. You’ll stay here. I’ll go grab the bags from the car. I’ll be back in a month to pick you up. Maybe by then, you'll have learned some respect for other people's property."

He turned and walked out of the room before we could say another word. We heard the front door open and close, and then a minute later, he reappeared with our two gym bags. He dropped them on the floor near the Lego mess.

"Behave yourselves," he said, giving Miss Mary a grateful look. "Bye, girls."

"Bye, Dad! Wait!" Emerson ran toward the door, but Miss Mary stepped in front of her, blocking the path with surprising strength.

The sound of the SUV’s engine starting up echoed through the open window, followed by the crunch of gravel as he backed out of the driveway. He was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening. Miss Mary turned toward us, and the fake tears were gone. She looked triumphant. She reached out and grabbed both of us by the shoulders, her grip like iron.

"Now then," she said, her voice smooth and chillingly sweet. "Come here, girls. Let's see what you look like as a three and four-year-old."

"Let us go!" I struggled, but she was pulling us toward the glowing metallic archway in the center of the room.

"Don't be difficult, Emmaleena," she hissed. "You're going to love being little again. No chores, no homework, just naps and playtime. And I get to have my favorite little helpers back."

Emerson was crying now, trying to dig her heels into the carpet. "I want to go home! I'm nine! I'm not a baby!"

"You will be soon," Miss Mary whispered.

She pushed us both toward the center of the arch. As we crossed the threshold, the blinking lights began to whirl in a dizzying circle of neon blue and pink. The room started to spin, and the giant piles of Legos seemed to grow taller and taller, looming over us like colorful skyscrapers.

I felt a strange, tingly sensation in my toes that quickly traveled up my legs. My jeans felt suddenly heavy and loose, sliding down my hips. My sneakers felt like giant boats on my feet. I looked down and saw my hands shrinking, my fingers becoming short and chubby.

"Emerson?" I tried to call out, but my voice came out much higher and squeakier than usual.

"Emmaleena?" she replied. She looked tiny. Her oversized t-shirt was now hanging down to her knees like a dress, and her face had rounded out, her eyes looking huge and frightened.

Miss Mary clapped her hands in delight, looking down at us from what felt like a mile away. "Oh, look at you two! Just precious. Emerson, you look like a perfect little three-year-old. And Emmaleena, you're the cutest four-year-old I've ever seen."

I tried to stand up straight, but my balance was all wrong. I felt wobbly, like I was learning to walk all over again. I looked at the gym bags on the floor. They looked like giant suitcases now.

"Now," Miss Mary said, reaching down and picking us both up, one under each arm. "We have a lot of 'playing' to do. And since you're staying for a whole month, I have plenty of outfits for you to wear. I think we’ll start with some nice, soft onesies."

"No!" Emerson wailed, her voice breaking into a toddler’s sob. "I want my daddy!"

"Hush, hush," Miss Mary cooed, carrying us out of the Lego room and toward the stairs. "Daddy said you have to stay. And in this house, what Miss Mary says, goes."

She carried us into a room that had been converted into a nursery. There were two cribs against the wall, painted a soft white, and a changing table stocked with powders and lotions. The walls were covered in wallpaper featuring dancing bears.

She set us down on the thick, plush rug. I tried to run for the door, but my short legs couldn't move fast enough. She easily caught me and scooped me back up.

"Let's get you out of those big-girl clothes," she said, reaching for the zipper of my hoodie.

"I can do it!" I squeaked, trying to push her hands away, but my coordination was gone. My fingers felt like sausages.

Within minutes, she had stripped us both down and dressed us in thick, padded diapers and soft, fuzzy footie pajamas—mine was pink with kittens, and Emerson’s was yellow with ducks. We looked exactly like the toddlers she wanted us to be.

"There," Miss Mary said, stepping back to admire her work. "Much better. Now, who wants some warm milk and a nap?"

"I'm not sleepy!" Emerson pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. But even as she said it, she let out a huge yawn, her eyes fluttering.

The machine must have done something to our brains, too. I felt a fog settling over my thoughts. I remembered being ten, I remembered school and my bike and my real life, but it all felt like a dream I was slowly forgetting. The only thing that felt real was the soft carpet beneath my feet and the overwhelming urge to suck my thumb.

Miss Mary picked us up again and tucked us into the separate cribs. The wooden bars felt like a cage, but the blankets were so warm and smelled like lavender.

"Sleep tight, little ones," she whispered, leaning over the rail to kiss us both on the forehead. "We have a very long month ahead of us."

As she turned off the light and closed the door, I looked through the bars at Emerson in the next crib. She was already curled into a ball, clutching a stuffed rabbit Miss Mary had tossed in with her.

I reached out a small, chubby hand toward her. "Emerson?"

"Yeah?" she whispered back, her voice small and tired.

"We have to... we have to remember," I said, though I couldn't quite remember what we were supposed to remember.

"Remember what?"

"I... I don't know."

I closed my eyes, and the last thing I thought about before falling into a deep, baby-like sleep was the sound of the Legos breaking on the floor, and the strange, shimmering light of the machine that had stolen our summer.