The Imaginary

Chapter 4: Wrong Ceilings Make Oblivion a Better World Part 1

THE IMAGINARY

CHAPTER FOUR: WRONG CEILINGS MAKE OBLIVION A BETTER WORLD

PART 1

Library hour. We had to be trained for some reading. Once a week, we’d spend an hour in the library. It was a required thing. They said we should be good kids. They said we should learn. I disagreed. They only wanted more people to use the facility so it wouldn’t turn out to be another spirit nest.

But instead of reading, we got into a serious talk. It wasn’t exactly adult serious. It was kid serious, the escapist-type, those that’d make you growl. About make-believes. Tom was the bad criminal. He started this, uh, fiction talk.

"That’s sick, man," said Tom, eyes on Ms. Wendy. "Must be pretty bad."

Ms. Wendy was trapped in her daydreams. Her arms were covering her, like self-embrace, and she’d sway her body. I think she was imagining herself as a lovely teenager dancing in the moonlight. She soon caught Tom’s judgmental orbs. Her eyes fired laser beams. Forget I said lovely. Forget it.

"What is it, Mr. Wordsworth?" she said.

Tom avoided the eye contact. He closed the book he was reading, then grew serious.

"Say, if you guys were fiction, what would you be?' We gave him glares, Laura’s the coldest. "Or, what would you do?"

"Ms. Wendy’s watching," said Laura. She shushed him. This girl was part of the anti-Tom faction. "That’s ridiculous. Even if that’s just a what-if. That’s plain ridiculous."

"Laura, in which world are you living in? It’s the vigilante generation. Everybody wants to be some sort of make-believe. Everybody wants to change the world. In their own special way."

"That doesn’t sound pretty convenient, Tom," I said. We were amazed by his speech. It was unnatural, so to say. "You’re making this seem deep."

"For wit, man. And, I’ve been watching a few good movies. I mean, real films."

"Like the ceiling." It was the junior mystery man’s turn. We all looked up for a while. Lucas kept the glue act. "If you look at it closely, you can see that it has an alter ego. It might not be a ceiling anymore. It can be the floor. Right, Jake?" Uh, why ask me?

But I did answer, to prevent suspicions. Sarah had the worrywart face. I didn’t want to see that.

"Right. Yeah. That’s right."

"Wow. I like that." Ms. President, you didn’t have to be so obvious. "Your association. Smart words for a smart man."  

The timing was right on. Lucas flinched upon seeing her face, accompanied by the red rush. She also kept the glue act, not on the ceiling, but to our local prince charming here, hands forming a V below the face. I bet she did that to look cute. The typical cute, not the Sarah cute.

"Thank you, Braveheart. Ms. Bravehart." The dartboards, I pitied them.

"It’s Laura. Laura!"

"Quiet," said Sarah. She finally let out some voiced air. "Ms. Wendy’s looking over. Third time now. We’re in the library. Be silent." The crazy girl got what she deserved.

"Nobody’s answered," said Tom. What was with him and all these bodies? "I’ll go ahead. I read this in the old tales. I want to be a mage."

"A what?" Laura’s reaction was really violent. I think Ms. Wendy heard her. Sarah disciplined her again.

"A mage. You know, magic. They’re brazen folk. It’s every kid’s wish. Pointy hats, robes, and wands."

"Those with a star on top?"