“Rebecka Frost? Late again?” said Mrs Miller. She stood in the middle of the classroom in her long floral dress and crossed her arms. I stood frozen at the door like a rabbit caught in headlights. Brendan walked in behind me and matched to his chair. His features were veiled, cold and unapologetic.

I felt as if Mrs Miller sensed every detail of what transpired between me and Brendan. She didn’t often use her inner vision to observe her students but I knew at that moment that she was watching the colors playing in my aura. I steadied my breathing and turned my thoughts to the flowers outside my house. I tried to calm my emotions and prayed that no colors of passion would show in my aura.

“And Brendan? What is going on?”

“Sorry I’m late Mrs Miller.” I said.

“Hurry and take your seat. You have 1 hour left to finish your painting.”

“Yes Mrs Miller.”

I nodded and sat behind my canvas again. I could feel Charlotte and Pamela watching me closely.

“Where did you go?” Pamela whispered.

“The water fountain. I lost track of time,” I said.

Pamela shrugged and turned back to her work. A quick glance told me she was nearly finished. I turned to my own canvas and decided to concentrate, blocking out everything from the room. All I could think of was Brendan, so I decided to paint an image of him lying in the middle of the road after his accident. I used as much blood as possible to cover his face, hoping that nobody would recognize him. I worked fast as I lost track of time, applying all the skills I’d learnt over the years to bring the canvas to life.

“Time is up, stop painting. Bring your canvas to the front,” said Mrs Miller.

I stepped back from the painting and smiled in satisfaction. It showed an injured boy lying on the road unconscious with his motorbike smashed around him.

“Who is that?” said Charlotte, who was peeking over my shoulder. Charlotte frowned in confusion as if solving a difficult Math equation.

“Nobody,” I said. I marched past her and carried my canvas to the front where Mrs Miller was lining up everyone’s work.

Most of the class had chosen to paint a landscape scene of wildlife or nature. However Brendan’s painting showed a girl with no features but long dark hair streaming through a tunnel of rainbow lights. The painting was good and I was impressed by his talent. I wondered what it meant and whether the girl was me.

“Your homework is to write a short essay of no more than two pages, explaining your painting and why you choose this subject matter. You may go.”

Brendan was the first student to leave without a backward glance. I couldn’t understand how he moved so fast. Suddenly there was a jam at the door as students rushed to leave.

“Why does every teacher feel the need to give us homework this year? All our spare time will be spent doing homework at this rate,” Pamela moaned.

“What do you expect? It’s our final year before college,” Charlotte replied.

“It’s only going to get worse from now,” I said. I packed my bag and headed for the door but Mrs Miller called my name before I could cross the threshold.

“Rebecka, wait for a few minutes. I want to have a word with you,” said Mrs Miller.

“Go. We’ll wait for you.” said Pamela. We usually flew home together in the flying jet. If I had nothing to do, I would visit Pamela or Charlotte’s house but most often they came to my house.

“Fine. I’ll see you in a while.”

I took hesitant steps towards Mrs Miller, who stood admiring the paintings assembled at the front. I knew whatever she was about to say wasn’t good and I didn’t want to hear it. She waited until everybody had left before turning to me.

“Rebecka, is there anything going on you wish to tell me?”

“No, Mrs Miller.” Although she looked me in the eye, I wasn’t sure if she was watching my aura.

“You know you can trust me don’t you? You’ve been one of my favorite students ever since you started here as a tiny little girl. I’ve never had any reason to complain about you. This is your final year and I don’t want to see you lose focus at the most crucial time.”

“I understand Mrs Miller but I’m not losing focus. Sometimes you just have a bad day and today was one of those bad days. It won't happen again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Mrs Miller nodded in acceptance. A smile broke on her lips, brightening her face.

“You have so much talent, Rebecka. You would do quite well to pursue a career as a professional artist. Every piece you produce is spectacular, even this.”

Mrs Miller had repeated this plea for me to choose an artistic career several times and each time I refused. I enjoyed art as a hobby but I wasn't interested in taking it further and thankfully my parents agreed.

“I must say there is an air of familiarity about this boy. Who is he and why did you choose to paint this scene?” Mrs Miller frowned at my painting in the same way that Charlotte had done.

“I. . . errr. . I. . . well it’s just . . . a scene from imagination. A dream.”

“A dream?”

“Maybe it’s a dream I had but couldn’t remember and it’s now emerging from my subconscious memory.” I crossed my fingers behind my back at the lie. Thankfully she wasn’t looking at me but at the paintings.

“That is very peculiar indeed. Those dark curls remind me of someone but I can’t put my finger on it.”

I nodded as if I shared her confusion. “This one here looks good as well, full of depth and emotion.” I pointed to another painting of a corn field, signed by Rosalind Henry, to draw her attention away from my work.

“Yes, it’s lovely,” said Mrs Miller.

“May I go now?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll see you next lesson.”

I walked out the classroom as quickly as my legs would go without running. Charlotte and Pamela were waiting for me outside the school entrance. Most of the students had already dispersed but a few were hanging around. I searched the sea of faces but couldn’t spot Brendan’s dark curly head in the crowd.

“Ready to leave?” Pamela asked.

“Yes. Are you coming to my house today?” I asked Pamela and Charlotte.

“No, I’m heading home, too much homework,” Pamela said.

“Me too. I’m tired. We’re hanging out on Saturday aren’t we?” said Charlotte.

“We are indeed,” I said.

I walked with them to the clearing where our flying jets were parked, secured against the forest trees. The ground was slightly damp, perhaps it had rained earlier. The leaves on the trees would begin falling very soon and the ground would become icy and slippery. I strapped the flying jet around my body and entered my home address. Charlotte and Pamela did the same and very soon all three of us were whizzing through the air at speeds of 100 miles per hour.

“Oh look down there,” said Charlotte. I heard the sound through the speakers loud and clear as if she was standing next to me.

Below us was Apioba Lake, one of the largest lakes in Waterside Valley. It was famous for breaking its banks and swelling into the nearby forest in summer when heavy rains and thunderstorms had their way. We spotted a boat race on the lake by two rival groups. They were rowing each boat by hand, cheered on by a small group of spectators on the banks.

“What are they doing?” Pamela asked.

“It’s obvious isn’t it? They’re having a boat race. Just a little bit of fun.”

“Is that allowed?” Pamela asked.

“I don’t see why not. I think we should try it at some point. Seems like a good idea,” I said.

We paused to watch the race for a while before moving on. It wasn’t long until we were flying past downtown, where Pamela lived.

“This is me. Bye girls,” said Pamela.

“Bye, I’ll call you in the evening. You too Charlotte,” I said.

We parted ways with Pamela heading towards her house, Charlotte going east and me heading north.

I set the flying jet to the highest speed and flew home at breakneck speed. I parked the machine in the center of our circle and waved to Mr. Adrian Quincy, our next door neighbor. He was returning from work and looked as tired as I felt. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and sort out my jumbled emotions before Dad or Mum came home. I wanted to be armed with answers for the inevitable questions that would follow once they read my daily report.

I opened the front door and called out, “Hello, is anyone home?”

My voice echoed back to me across the large open plan space. I set my bag on the kitchen island and poured a glass of water. I drank it all in one go and was shaking the glass to encourage the last drop into my mouth when James came into view, followed by William Barret.

“Are you trying to eat that glass, Rebecka?” said James.

“Not you again.” James was the last person I wanted to deal with right now and I made my annoyance clear in my tone.

“You do realize you can get more water from the tap, right?”

“Piss off . . . will you just leave me alone!”

James opened his mouth in shock. “I’m telling Dad. You used a bad word.”

“What? Saying piss off. . . I can use worse than that if you like. Give you a real reason to complain.” I wanted to throw the glass at him and wipe that smug look off his face but I knew that would be a step too far. Physical violence was viewed with horror in this community, a sure way to be stripped of my privilege as a lightworker.

“Rebecka? What has gotten into you?” James narrowed his eyes as if he was seeing me clearly for the first time.

“James, let her be,” said Will.

Will and James had been friends for a long time, just like me, Pamela and Charlotte, except their bond was much closer. Will’s parents, Stephaine Barrett and Russell Barrett, were Mayors of Waterside Valley, one of the most respected families of the community. It was rumored the entire family were lay brothers of the Adepts, which they never publicly denied or confirmed. However, I knew Will’s family were all lightworkers, including his two older brothers who had since left the town to establish their own communities.

Although Will himself had been home schooled, he was well known at Waterside High School, especially at the time when James attended. Although he was the youngest son, Will was tipped to take over his father’s role as Mayor when he retired. I had often seen Will in the astral plane working beside his Dad.

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

“I just don’t want to deal with your crap anymore. Everyone thinks you’re so perfect but you won’t give me a break. I’m fed up with your constant nagging. You’re not my Dad.”

James looked perplexed, as if he didn’t know what to say. He had never seen this side of me and didn’t know how to react. “Show some respect, Rebecka. How can you talk like this in front of Will?”

“What difference does it make? You tell him everything don’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean you can use bad language in front of him. I’m definitely telling Mum and Dad.”

“Oh, I’m so scared.” I banged by glass on the island for added effect.

“Do you want to stop being a lightworker? Because that’s going to happen if you carry on like this.”

“I’ll stop when you stop bullying me.”

“Bullying? Nonsense. It’s called banter. I love you Rebecka. You’re the only sister I’ve got. Why would I bully you?” James frowned in deep thought as if the idea had only just occurred to him.

“James, let me speak to Rebekca alone,” said Will.

“Fine. I hope you can talk some sense into her.”

James pressed his lips together and nodded, leaving me alone with Will. Will waited until James was out of sight before pointing to the sofa in the living area.

“Want to sit?”

I walked away from the kitchen counter and plunged myself into the sofa. Will chose to sit across from me so that I couldn’t look away from him.

“How was your day at school?”

I shrugged. “Fine.”

Will carried so much peace within himself, making me feel calm in his presence. He was handsome in his own way with long thick lashes that should be criminal on a boy, although nothing compared to Brendan. He had a high forehead with wide expressive eyes, portraying calmness and reliability. As different from the passionate gaze of Brendan as day is from night. Growing up, he’d always been kind to me but to him I would always be James' little sister.

“James loves you very much, I hope you know that, Rebecka?”

“Yes, I know.”

“When he’s teasing you, he’s not doing it to be mean. That’s just how he interacts with you.”

“Look, if you’re here to defend him then I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m just trying to make you see things from his perspective.”

“Can you make him see things from my perspective?”

“Good point. When I talk to him, I can try. . .”

He paused and stared at the door for a few moments before looking into my eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on in your life but whatever it is, I know it’ll pass. The teenage years are certainly the most difficult. It’s a period of time when your emotional nature is being born and until that matures, you have to deal with turbulent feelings.”

My mind went straight to Brendan and the desires he invoked from me. Will was right, it was just the teenage years and with time and maturity, I could gain more control. “Did you have a hard time controlling your emotions as a teenager?”

“Of course I did, we all do.”

“Really? I don’t remember you acting out. You and James have always been so perfect.”

Will chuckled, “Is that what you think?”

“Yes. It’s what everyone thinks.”

“Is that so? If only we could see ourselves as others see us!”

“Don’t tell me you’re not aware of your reputation?”

“I may have an inkling.” Will leaned forward in his chair, bringing him into my personal space. His teeth were straight, even and white.

I leaned back and folded my legs under my thighs on the sofa. I wondered why I’d never paid much attention to Will before, he was good company and handsome.

“Tell me, what is the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done?”

“A few years ago, I didn’t want to be homeschooled anymore. My parents didn’t even want me to go to college, I had to fight for that.”

I knew that Will had been homeschooled until the end of high school, when he eventually applied to the same college as James. I wasn’t aware that he had to fight his parents for that.

“But why? Why didn’t they want you to go college?”

“They think it’s a waste of time, that they’ve taught me everything I need to know for life.”

“Surely that can’t be true.”

“It’s true. They taught me a lot and I know all my college subjects already, but I wanted to mingle with people of my age, especially since my brothers left.

“Ah I see. How could I forget, rumors about your powerful intellect are also rife in this community.”

“Hmmm . . . sounds like you’ve been listening to a lot of rumors about me.”

“Not at all, it’s common knowledge.”

Will smiled displaying his dazzling teeth. “Sounds like a gossipy Gemini to me.”

I widened my eyes in mock horror, “Are you saying I’m a gossip?”

“I don’t know, sounds like you know a little bit of information about everybody.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose in thought, “You know what, you’re right. I probably do.”

We burst out laughing together, relieving most of the tension from my heart.

“Remind me of your zodiac sign.”

“Guess my ascendant!”

I tapped my finger against my lips in thought. “Maybe Sagittarius but an introverted Sagittarius.”

“Not quite. I have Pisces rising.”

“That’s why you’re so calm, and you're a great healer.”

“How do you know that I’m a great healer?”

I giggled and covered my mouth as if I’d revealed a secret.

“I’m a gossipy Gemini, remember. I know a little about everything.” I winked at him and he laughed.

“Will, Rebekca?” Mum said from the door. Dad was standing behind her looking at me and Will with a strange expression on his face before he veiled his features. Will stood up as if he’d been caught doing something naughty.

“Mum, Dad, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly not, looks like you’re having too much fun. Where is James?” Mum asked.

“Sulking somewhere in his room.”

“Mr and Mrs Frost,” Will said. He dropped his head in a nod “I was just speaking to Rebecka.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mum said.

“What were you speaking about?” Dad asked.

“Dad!” I cringed. My parents were the most intrusive people I’ve ever known, despite making a show of respecting my privacy.

“Rebecka and James had an argument, Mr Frost,” Will replied.

“Oh, not again,” Mum groned.

“You need to stop arguing with your brother, Rebekca. I’m getting sick of it,” Dad warned. He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice from the fridge.

“Why do I always get the blame for everything?”

“Oh goodness here we go again!” Mum threw her hands in the air as if seeking divine intervention.

“Will, we need to have a word with Rebekca alone. Why don’t you head upstairs to James. I’ll let you know when we finish,” said Dad.

“It’s alright Mr Frost. I was going to leave now anyway, it’s getting late.”

“Alright, say hi to your parents for me. No doubt we’ll see you tonight at the temple.”

Dad patted Will on the back as he left. He draped his coat over his shoulders and waved goodbye before shutting the front door behind him.

“Mum, Dad, before you start, I want you to listen to my side of the story first. Please believe me when I say it’s not my fault. James always wants to get under my skin, you should speak to him and tell him to stop.” My chest was heaving as I spoke, my emotions still raw and close to the surface.

“We’ll speak to James alright, but we want you to take responsibility for the part you play in this. Use common sense and stop responding to every bait he sets out. He does it all the more because he knows you’ll fall for it each time,” Dad moved from the Kitchen and sat in the living area opposite me. Mum joined next to him so that I couldn’t hide from both of them. I felt as if under a microscope.

“Would you like to tell us what happened today at school?” Mum asked.

I shook my head. I had never lied to my parents and didn’t want to start now but at the same time I was reluctant to tell the truth. “Which version do you want?”

“What kind of question is that?” Dad asked.

“Speak the truth Rebekca, you know the consequences of lying,” Mum added.

“Fine.” I shrugged and glanced at the floor, avoiding their gaze. “I guess you’ve seen my daily report from school?”

Mum nodded, “You turned up late to your lesson and yesterday you were passing notes.”

“I’ve already apologized to Mrs Miller and Mr Gildon. I just lost track of time. I’m not perfect.”

“You’re not perfect but you know the standard of behavior as a lightworker?” Dad asked.

“I do,” I whispered.

“And you know that nothing can be hidden from the Adepts?”

“Yes Dad.” I struggled not to roll my eyes. “I also know they respect individual freedom. You need to allow me to make my own choices, otherwise how can I learn from my mistakes?”

I looked up and saw a frown on Dad’s face. He stood up and paced across the room, seemingly in deep thought.

“Keith, what's the matter?” Mum asked.

“Something’s not right but I can’t put my finger on it,” Dad said. “I feel a sense of heavy foreboding, but I trust you, Rebekca. If you’re saying that we need to give you space to make your own mistakes then that’s what we’ll do.”

“What do you mean? Keith?”

“She’s old enough to know right from wrong. We have to trust the process, that we’ve taught her enough. Remember what the teenage years were like for us. She’ll come out of it eventually.”

“Ah yes, I see what you mean,” said Mum.

Mum and Dad always agreed with each other and not for the first time, I marveled at their connection. Although it probably helped that they could communicate without words, through mental telepathy.

“Thank you, Dad. Can I go to my room now?”

“Alright, we’ll see you at dinner.” Mum gave me a smile of reassurance.

I couldn’t escape fast enough and I almost broke into a run as I took the stairs two at a time. I slammed the door to my room and locked it behind me. I released a sigh of relief and collapsed on the bed. My thoughts immediately returned to Brendan and I wondered what he was doing at this moment. I wasn’t ready to admit whatever was happening between us and certainly not ready to confess them to my parents. He evoked something in me that I didn’t think was possible. I would have to be very careful from now until I figured out what to do.