Tap #1

Lucy, 12

One time, I was floating.

 It was because of balloons. I was two and my sister Cassie was ten, and she told me to hold them after she filled them with helium for her Halloween party. She passed me one, and another, then another, dozens of them, until I felt them lift me. Not all the way, just my heels off the floor a little. There were so many, and I was so small. I remember the lifting feeling in my tummy, but not much else, I only know the story from her telling me.

I squealed, and she turned to me and saw. She filled more balloons and gave them to me, as fast as she could go, until only my toes stayed on our cream rug. Mum heard us laughing and she ran in, and saw me. She yelled for my Dad and he ran in too. Cassie says they stood transfixed, and she got worried it was because they thought I would float away. I was never allowed to float away, never.

“LET GO!” she had said, and I released the ribbon strings and landed.

The balloons jostled against the ceiling like someone blowing bubbles, there were so many. I remember that, the sound of them hitting each other like a swarm of insects, or whispers. I think they were telling me the secrets about their colours for the first time.

Green apples taste green, but red apples taste white.

Wednesdays are orange, unless it’s my birthday, then they’re silver.

Fevers are purple, because they’re cold and warm at once.

Mum and Dad laughed and spun me and Cassie around and round, calling us their magic little terrors. I was in the air again, thrown by Dad into Mum’s arms, floating once more.

My favourite friend is Finn. The third time we ever spoke, I asked him what colour his birthday was. He had a funny look on his face, but then he said “Black and white. Like my tap shoes.” I told him he was right.

 Finn, 13

One time, Lucy asked if I had ever floated.

I said no.