Make Believe Extension

I have an imaginary friend named Olivia. She emerged from the corner of my grade five gymnasium when the family dance was in full swing and everyone one was dancing, but not me. I sat in the corner, sickened by the disco-ball and practically throbbing with the radiating beat of bad music. She looked like the little girl from Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang. Wonderful movie, and you should watch it. The child-snatcher always got to me.

Olivia is filthy and Raggedy like Ann and has big froggy eyes. Her hair is stringy and white. She has no pores. That's how you know she's imaginary.

"Why aren't you dancing? Why are you clinging to the wall with such determination?" I asked her.

"I am cursed," she answered simply. "If I touch the ground I will die 'til I'm dust."

"I'm sorry."

"That's alright," she tittered. "If I don't touch the ground I'll live forever."

"That's not so bad then," I said.

Olivia was my traveling companion. If I was in the bus or the car and zipping along at a frightening pace, she would appear. She ran along telephone lines and fences and highway signs. She leapt from car to car with squirrel-like agility. My stomach would twist in fear and I would open the window and beckon her in. "No," she would say. "I can keep up." How that girl shook me, frightened me. "We never see each other anymore," she said to me a year ago. "Where have I been?"

Olivia is the only one who won't leave. I watched as Stella, my lost, sea-sick mermaid evaporated. Rose, the delicate babe, and Diana, my pessimistic Asian ghost girl, left and never came back.

Diana looked GOOD in purple.