LIAM
As I slid into the shiny seat of a fireball, pulled by an infinite number of ponies, my heart beating an awkward throb, Florida grinned beside me. “We’re going to space?!?” she yelled. I looked in the mirror. For a moment, I did not see a boy. I saw a man whose face altered: a boy who smiled into a man who was turning his face right. I had shivers down my spine; the language in my head was breaking – like when a word is mouthed right but wrong when written. I laughed with a cold, frozen grin, somehow recognising that being an adult (as I pretended to be) was a profession. It involved a certain speed and numerous restrictions in progression; an exact amount of curiosity, neither too much nor too little; and a minimum number of books read for pleasure, not necessity. Unfortunately, it was too late; Florida and I were on our way up. Way up.
The ball did not roll on a road. It roared into the blaze, which became murky. Holding the wheel, I was trying to be calm, trying to be in control, even though I did not know how. “I am fine. We are fine,” I said. Even though my thighs were numb, my arms interlocked like spaghetti bolognese and my chest drummed three different movements. Florida did not seem scared and her face bloomed while fastened by the chair even though she wasn’t buckled up. “Look,” she said, pointing ahead. The stars were opening doors towards a great cosmic school floating in space. At least it looked like we were going somewhere, I thought to myself.
Inside the space school, we found a hall bursting with characters. At the front door stood a hare who scattered strawberry-flavoured airs. His tail was a little too furry, which made everyone sneeze, and a mouse would show up from everywhere. He was wearing seven crowns and an ancient sound interrupted his footsteps while a princess constantly named Marie was walking in her mother’s shoes. They were numerous sizes too small for her and she kept sliding across the corridors. As if that were not enough, a mane was floating above everyone while his body in the shape of a lion spoke in a voice that felt too low for its face. Liam tried to say "extraordinary", but it came out "extrascary", each sound leaping forward in the pole-vault competition where only everyone wins. They all smiled back at Florida and me as if they understood us anyway. Florida laughed. “Words don’t need to be pure facts,” she said. But I wasn’t sure. If words slipped, did I slip too? What about the mirror? I looked like a man. Am I a man because people said I was tall? I turned to Florida, but she was not there. “Have I always been alone? The school faded. The ball of fire hummed with the hooves sinking in deep thoughts. I tried to spell my own name, L-i-a-m, but it sounded like "lie-am". Am I telling a lie, or am I living one?
