Do you have any idea how hard it is to pretend you can't read? Because everyone expects it from you. As a kid, you are read to, as a stimulant to do the same thing one day. Preferably the minute you step into first grade. You know, the famous expression that you can read by the time it's Christmas. That makes everyone always so proud. Especially grandparents and all those in line to hear you perform. And then, once you know all the letters and can pronounce them in the right order, you can get lost in the stories. Isn't that what they call it? I just don't think anyone ever meant that literally.

---

When you are young it's doable. For a while you pretend you just can't remember the letters. Make a lot of mistakes, stutter, stammer and snap, you're skipped. Unless you have bad luck, then you get special aid. Of course I didn't felt like that, so my next strategy became: to show I could, but didn't want to. That did the trick for a while. Everyone got mad, mind you. That was a down side. My parents tried everything and some things actually worked. Comic books for example, I devoured those. Little bits of text were also no problem. So as soon as the teachers found out my spelling tests were flawless, they finally let me be. They blamed it on stage fright, performance anxiety and more of those terms. There was no way they would ever guess the truth.

It was on my sixth birthday that I discovered why I could never read a book in public.

---

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Zara. Happy birthday to you!" The 'you' echoes around the block and I'm in a fit of giggles. My grandma is always so funny.

"Congratulations, little big daughter. Six years! I remember like it was yesterday how you were born. Right on top of the midwife's book, what a dunce that was."

"Obstetrician, mum, midwives are from your era."

My mother grumbles, but I can't see her face because mine disappears in the foe fur trimming of my grandma's hood.

"Time for presents." Grandma's voice blares through the house and from her bag, that catapults a candy wrapper, she pulls a messily wrapped present. It's square and flat, and gee whiz, what ever could it be? "Oh, a book." My shoulders drop an inch. I was really looking forward to that new discovery kit for my new Barbie doll, it had a real magnifying glass and a little diary. A book is lame. I can't even read yet. Well, perhaps a little, but only picture books, with short words and big letters.

There are horses on the front when I pull away the wrapping, that's something, I guess. "Thanks, grandma", I mumble, after a stern look from my father. I place the book with my other gifts. Grandma notices nothing, she is already sitting on the couch, rummaging in her bag. Probably looking for sweetener.

A sigh escapes me when I look around the room. Two grandmothers, two grandfathers, a great grandma, an aunt with her annoying three year old son. Nobody to play with. I already finished my cake and for now that's all I'm gonna get.

"Dad, can I go play upstairs with my new toys?"

Dad is in the middle of a conversation and waves his hand around absent-minded. That must be a yes. I slide from my chair, walk behind the couch and grab my Barbie and the book from the shelf. I'll get the rest later. If I just read a few pages in the book, than at least I can tell my grandma in all honesty, that I've read it. After that I can play with the doll. The door creaks, just as grandma bursts out in one of her exuberant laughs, so no one hears me leave. Giggling I skip up the stairs. Why is mum always so annoyed with grandma? I think she's hilarious. Upstairs I push my complicated family dynamics to the back of my brain as my foot shuts the door to my room a little too loud. Petrified I hold my breath. After a few minutes I release it again. Luckily my cousin isn't allowed upstairs yet. Carefully I place the Barbie with the doll house and then I lump down on my bed. My stuffed animal falls over and quickly I straighten her on my pillow.

'Lynn saves the ranch' it says at the top of the cover. What is a ranch?

My eye falls on the shelf with my small collection of books. All of them picture books. Little words and pretty pictures. This new book looks like it doesn't have pictures at all. I pull a face. Up till now I've managed to avoid books without pictures. Reading is stupid. Oh well, I might as well try, for grandma.

Open the cover, skip the first few pages and when my eyes see the large H at the top of the page, my one hand supports my chin, while the other keeps the book straight.

Then I focus on the first word, read the first word and disappear.

---

Remember that getting lost in stories? Losing yourself in a book and such? Well, that.

One moment I was on my bed, Plushie the Stuffed animal in front of me on my pillow. I read not three words, see a flash and my pillow is gone. The soft fabric of the blanket under my stomach vanishes and Plushie is nowhere to be found.

Beneath me there's itchy green grass, the same as that on the book's cover. Boy, was I glad my grandma hadn't given me a book about arctic foxes.

Because I am only six, I don't panic. This is just a dream. Or maybe it's normal, how would I know, this is my first real book.

I stand up, look around and see the herd of horses that was also on the cover. It's a little dorky that I am walking on my socks, yet, my six year old self doesn't mind.

Just as I am about to walk over to the horses, a new flash blinds me and I am standing on my bed. Two seconds later, the door opens and my mother's head appears.

"Zara, what are you doing?"

"I was just in the book, mummy, I saw the horses." My finger points at the book that still lies on my pillow.

"Fine, but grandpa and grandma Jacobs are leaving and it's rude to stay upstairs all day on your own birthday."

I wasn't going to stay away all day, but I'm too excited to complain about it. The book remains on my bed and the rest of the day I am forced to stay downstairs.

Not until that evening, after the goodnight kiss and hug, I get another change to read in my new book. This time I am under my blanket with Plushie in my hand. I turn the page, a flash and woosh, there I am again. Lying on my belly in the grass. Only this time, Plushie is with me. The pink unicorn is stuck in my fist and doesn't seem to mind not being in my bed any more.

At this moment I really don't care about how to get home. I already knew I could, because that had happened this afternoon. Again I start to walk in the direction of the horses, expecting any minute to be zapped back. It doesn't happen.

Not until I'm halfway to the herd, the story begins to flow.

---

A humming sound from behind me gets closer and closer and when I turn, a red car drives up to me. It's one of those big one's with an open trunk. I can't find the word, but my cousin has one, just like it. It's old and dirty and doesn't even drive on a road. It stops merely a few feet from me and the passenger door flies open. Out comes a head with a blond ponytail. Two legs stuck in riding boots follow suit.

"Hey, do you want a ride? I'm Lynn."

I recognize the name, it's on the cover. Then this must be the main character of my book. She doesn't seem the least surprised to see me. With a big smile on my face, wearing my nightgown and holding Plushie, I run to her and she lets me get in before her. There is plenty of room in front.

"This is my grandpa", Lynn introduces me to the man behind the wheel. I reply with my name, she sits down next to me and we drive off.

---

Maybe I should have been a little more concerned about the fact that I was in the car with strangers. Yet the situation itself was simply too weird and I was so young. Plushie was with me, what could go wrong?

I experienced the whole story together with Lynn. Somehow it was the most natural thing for her to do, to take me with her everywhere she went. To the meadow, where her grandpa selected a young mare. Back to the ranch, we we began training the horse. I was allowed to help with grooming, feeding, mucking stables. For that I was given an overall, because my nightgown had gotten pretty dirty.

Lynn took me to her school, where no one even so much as raised an eyebrow over the fact that there suddenly was a little girl in class. Ans I was six, for me, this was all perfectly normal.

The complicated part, about the ranch that was about to be sold, passed me by. The prospect of the horse race Lynn had to win, was terribly exciting. Also the fact that months seemed to pass in the story eluded me. I wore clothes that had belonged to Lynn and slept in my nightgown, that was neatly washed and folded with the rest of the family's. During the day, Plushie remained in the guest bedroom and I was on vacation.

And then, one night, after the race – that Lynn had won, of course – I was in the guest bed with Plushie next to me, when the flash reappeared.

I was back in my own room, in my own house. On my back in my bed this time, just as I would have fallen asleep in Lynn's guest room.

For a time I thought it must have been a dream. The book was right next to my head, only this time at the last page instead of the first. I was in my nightgown and my hair tied up in a pigtail, just like the ones my mum always did. Everything was totally normal.

I turned of my night light, closed my eyes and was woken the next morning by my mum.

It wasn't until the time I was ready for bed again, that I realized I'd lost Plushie. At once I opened the book.

---

A humming sound from behind me gets closer and closer and when I turn, a red car drives up to me. It's one of those big one's with an open trunk. A pick-up truck, my mind now tells me. Just as old and just as dirty and stopping in exactly the same spot.

The passenger door flies open. Out comes a head with a blond ponytail. Two legs stuck in riding boots follow suit.

"Hey, do you want a ride? I'm Lynn."

Confused I walk over. Did she forget me? She lets me get in before her

"This is my grandpa", Lynn introduces me to the man behind the wheel. I remain silent, she sits down next to me and we drive off.

---

Everyone was just as nice to me, but nobody remembered me. I followed along again, the entire story. I had no choice, because the flash wouldn't reappear before the story was well and finished. This time I had a lot less fun, especially because right that first day I discovered that Plushie wasn't where I'd left him. The guest room was just as empty as the first time I was brought there.

For four days I tried. Beginning at the end of the book, in the middle, at the start. It didn't help, Plushie was gone for good. I threw the book behind my wardrobe, cried my eyes out for a week and decided never to touch a book again.

I kept it up all through elementary school. High school was tricky, but luckily there are these things called audio books and excerpts.

I managed to keep my grades up without ever touching a paper novel, until I was sixteen and my friend pulled me into the library.