Imaginary Friends

The origin of imaginary friends

“I’ll see you later!” Zoey called out to her dad. She hopped out of the car and skipped to her classroom.

She found her classroom, settled into her seat, and turned her attention to the morning announcements playing on the old, boxy TV. 

“And today for lunch there will be chicken nuggets-”

BANG.

The broadcasters’ faces froze terror. Several more bangs followed, then there was a flash of blurred colors. The last clear view Zoey had before the screen turned to static was the broadcasters dropping to the ground.

Fearful silence settled over the classroom like a dark cloud. The only sound to be heard was the constant buzzing of the air conditioning. Something wasn’t right.

Several more bangs were heard from the other side of the school, then screaming. A stampede of students barreled past the window, which prompted one brave little boy, Dylin, to creep out of his seat and up to the window. Zoey chewed her nails in anticipation.

Before he could peer out of it, however, the door opened and hit the wall with a bang. 

Standing in the doorway was a boy of about thirteen. His black hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days, and his ratty camo pants and gray t-shirt hung loosely on his short, thin frame. He was clutching a large black gun as if it were his lifeline.

Without saying a word, he held up his gun and shot Zoey’s teacher, who immediately collapsed. The back of her head hit a desk with a sickening clunk.

Twenty-one second graders turned their terrified eyes from their likely-dead teacher to the man in camo. 

“Don’t move!” he shouted.

Zoey’s legs were rooted to the spot. She doubted she could move if she tried. Her eyes burned with tears, but she was too petrified even to blink. She had a feeling that her fate would soon match her teacher’s.

She looked out of the corner of her eye at Dylin. He was still standing by the window. His face twisted in determination, and he tackled the boy, who lost his balance and crashed into the wall.

“Go! Go!” Dylin cried.

Zoey didn’t need to be told twice. Her legs bounded across the floor, and she was running down the hallway in seconds. 

BANG! Another gunshot, this time coming from her classroom.

She glanced over her shoulder. Her classmates followed close behind her, and the man was nowhere in sight. Her face lit up in a grin. She made it! The exit was just a few yards away! 

A pencil pouch isn’t a very significant object. You might not notice if you drop it in the hallway, or even care. But for Zoey, remembering that pencil pouch could very well have changed her day- along with her life.

On her next stride, her foot stepped on something. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Things seemed to happen in slow motion as she slipped; and then she was flying, flying, flying… And landed on her right knee with a nauseating crunch.

At first, she was fine. Then a split second later, the pain hit her like a tidal wave. 

Her knee felt like it had been smashed with a hammer, then put back together with scotch tape. She rolled over and tried to sit up, but the crowd that was behind her just five seconds ago was now on top of her. She cowered, hoping no one would trample her.

She tried to stand after the crowd passed, but even the slightest extension or bending of her knee caused pain to shoot up her leg. 

Lying ten feet away was the cursed pencil pouch. She glared at it. At that moment, she silently cursed everyone who had ever owned a pencil pouch.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Uneven footsteps approached her. Zoey didn’t look up, but she knew who it was. She kept her face pointed down. If she didn’t look at him, maybe he wouldn’t notice her.

But it was a lost cause. The hallway was empty, save for Zoey and the boy. She forced herself to look up. She didn’t want the last thing she saw to be the yellowish linoleum. Her eyes were focused on the hanging artwork, but it was hard not to notice the boy stalking towards her.

His face somehow looked even angrier than he had in the classroom. Bleeding scratches marred his face, and he appeared to be limping. Dylin must have put up a fight. She smiled.

But if he was here, and Dylin was nowhere to be seen, and she DID hear a gunshot a few seconds ago… Her smile died. Tears rolled down her face.

She burst out into sobs. “Please,” she cried. “Please don’t kill me.”

The boy just smiled. A wry, evil, twisted smile. Before he could pull the trigger, she turned her head to the artwork on the wall. The last thing she saw was a glittery dinosaur, blurred by her tears. Then she knew no more.

***

A bright light shone through her eyelids. She opened them, and the light intensified. She held up a hand in front of her eyes until they adjusted.

She was standing on what appeared to be a floor of clouds, at the back of a line of about twenty children. All of them appeared to be under the age of twelve. At the front of a line was a man sitting at a desk with a computer. He wore a black suit and huge, fake feathery wings.

She looked around. To her left and right were more lines of kids, leading up to different winged people. Every few seconds, another child would appear in the back of one of the lines.

“What’s going on?” Zoey whispered to the girl in front of her.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I just died, but I’m pretty sure heaven is more fun than this, so who knows?”

Zoey was thinking the same thing.

The line moved up until Zoey was facing the winged man.

“Name?”

“Um, Zoey Lawrence.”

The man looked up. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“I’m sure,” she said.

“Spell your first name for me, darling.”

She did.

“And your age?”

“Seven. But I turn eight in two months!”

“Zoey Lawrence, Zoey Lawrence.” He muttered to himself as he scrolled through something on his computer. Zoey took the opportunity to reach out and poke his wings, which batted irritably at her touch. They were soft and smooth.

“Please don’t touch the wings, darling. They’re terribly sensitive.”

So they weren’t fake. Zoey jerked her hand back. “Sorry.”

The angel ignored her apology and kept scrolling. “Aha! Zoey Lawrence! Died in a school shooting, right?”

Zoey nodded. So it was true. She was dead.

“Let’s see… I’m going to put you with… Brooklyn Williams. You’ll be with her for the next two years, and then you’ll come back and live here for all of eternity. Please sign this saying that you understand.” He slid a paper and pen to her and pointed to the bottom of the page, where there was a line for her signature.

Sometimes her parents would sign papers like this. They told her it was always important to read things before you sign them. 

There were a lot of big words on it, most of which she couldn’t read.

The only thing she did manage to understand was a statement in big, bold letters at the bottom. It said, “If you are not satisfied with your Real Friend, please call Heaven at [phone], and we will find you a new one as soon as we can!”

Real Friend? She was pretty sure she already had real friends. But they were alive, and she wasn’t. 

She signed the paper, although she wasn’t sure what was going on. The angel took it and stuck it in a drawer in his desk.

He snapped his fingers, and a door appeared out of nowhere. He pressed a few buttons on his computer. “This should take you where you need to go.”

Zoey opened the door. Golden light shone through it. 

Go on, now! Haven’t got all day!” he prompted after seeing her hesitate.

She closed her eyes and stepped through.

The moment she crossed the threshold, she felt a strong force pick her up and whisk her away. She was turning and tumbling through the air, moving so fast she felt as if she might be torn apart.

Then it stopped. The force dropped her. She slowly opened her eyes.

She was in a room. A bright pink room, with stuffed animals covering every available surface. She was seated at a small table across from a little girl of about six, who was wearing a pink dress, and her blonde hair was pulled into two short pigtails.

“How are you, Zoey?” the girl asked.

Zoey blinked. “Um, ok, I guess?”

“Sip your tea!” the girl commanded.

Zoey looked down and found that a teacup and saucer sat in front of her. She picked it up and sipped. It was orange juice.

The girl sighed and shook her head. “Pinky up, Zoey! How many times do I have to tell you?”

Zoey lifted her pinky. Was this heaven? It couldn’t be. Heaven was filled with angels and gummy bears, not bossy little girls who nitpicked the way you drank your tea.

A woman opened the door and walked in. “Hello, Brooklyn.” She smiled.

“Say hello to Zoey, Mommy,” Brooklyn said.

“Zoey?”

Brooklyn rolled her eyes and pointed at Zoey. “See? See Zoey?”

The woman looked at Zoey’s chair. Her expression switched from confusion to amusement. “Brooklyn!” she exclaimed. “Do you have an imaginary friend?”

Brooklyn huffed and crossed her arms. “She’s not igaminary, Mommy. She’s real!”

Her mother smiled. “I see. Well, I came up to ask if you would like lunch. Should I make some for Zoey, too?”

“Would you like lunch, Zoey?” Brooklyn asked.

Zoey nodded.

“She wants lunch. And she says she wants extra cookies.” Brooklyn declared.

Her mother smiled once more and left, promising lots of cookies.

“I can have your cookies, right?” Brooklyn whispered, cupping the side of her mouth.

Zoey shrugged. “Sure.”

Brooklyn grinned, then launched into a very detailed explanation of the plotlines of all the Barbie movies in existence.

Zoey sat back and listened. She supposed this wouldn’t be such a bad life. She just had to get through the next two years, and then Heaven would be waiting.

Author's Note

I was considering chopping out the entire beginning and starting it right at the moment when she trips. I wasn't sure if the entire school part was all that important to the story. Let me know what you think.
-B

Reviews

[Chris Rankine]

I really enjoyed this story. I don't think i have read anything quite like this before. It felt fresh and original. Certainly for me anyway.

[Hope]

I liked the school part, it gave a sort of context to Zoey being in heaven. And the introductory part was really intense. The portrayal of a school shooting was realistic and moving. Also, the onomatopoeia employed throughout the story was really effective. And I must say, the idea is really refreshing. I love reading a creative story and this is one of the best I have read. And I loved 'igaminary'😁. Very happy to have read this:)

[bookishmuggle]

That made my day! Thank you so much! I really appreciate it!