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Images swirled in her vision; she could make out a black cloak with a gold knife, a robotic arm, a yellow and red cat and a shining amethyst. The rest was a blur of purple, red, green, light blue and a fiery orange. She tried to run, she knew what was going to happen next but she couldn’t move. Suddenly an ash black lion leapt through the haze, red eyes blazing, gold claws flailing, bellowing the most terrifying growl imaginable.

Aimée Perkins woke up in a cold sweat, she’d had that dream again but like every morning, the dawn music weaved its way through her window and Aimée calmed down, humming the tune and looking out the window and smiling like every morning, she asked herself, “Where is that music coming from?” she called it the Dawn music even though it played at six thirty.
Aimée Perkins was an only child, her mother was French and her father came from a small village called Canstar. Aimée had turned 13 last week when her father said “Aimée you are going to my high school, so we’re moving to Canstar.” Aimée was ecstatic she had read on the Net that there was a mysterious hero they called Dark Dagger, and a singer called Rockn’ Robin, who where both her heroes.
“Aimée!” she was jolted from her daydream by her Maman and fell on the floor,
“Sortir du lit Aimée!”
“Je suis Maman, je se préparerai!” Aimée yelled back, picking herself up. Aimée walked to the box marked ‘shirts ‘n’ pants’ inside was her guitar. Aimée sighed, Papa named my boxes wrong again. After half an hour Aimée found her clothes in the box marked ‘Breakable’.

Aimée walked out of her room wearing her much-loved faded camouflage pants, lavender t-shirt, black jacket and sparkly purple shoes with her backpack hanging from one shoulder, looking in the hallway mirror Aimée saw her reflection and stopped. Looking back at her was a girl with an oval face, brown wavy hair that grew to her shoulders, coffee brown eyes and cupids bow lips. Aimée didn’t look to bad for 13 year old. When she entered the kitchen Maman looked at her with one of those ‘where have you been?’ faces that only mothers can get. Maman’s name was Belle and Aimée was a mirror image of her mother, except Belle had blue eyes and jet black hair, “Papa labelled the boxes wrong again.” Aimée said, sitting down at the breakfast bar. Belle’s face changed to an ‘I know’ face and gave her daughter PB&J on toast,
“Your Papa has a knack for that…” Belle couldn’t speak English very well so at home everyone always spoke French, Aimée was still listening for the dawn music but it had stopped.
“Maman…?” Aimée asked,
“Where does the Dawn music come from?” Belle had a twinkle in her eye, Aimée had been asking that since they had arrived, but this time she had an answer for her. She bent down and whispered, “According to the children at your new school, it is a woodland elf.”


* * * *


Aimée entered the grounds of Elvin Oak high with her mind full of questions, where’s my form? Where’s my first class? Where’s the office? Who is ‘the elf’? But when she rounded the next corner her mind went blank. A girl was being held against the wall and pounded by a bully. Aimée has always hated bullies. Her face curled up into a snarl and she started toward him, but something stopped her, to be correct someone stopped her; it was a small girl. She was about a foot shorter than her but she was looking into Aimée’s eyes with knowingness she had never seen before and had a firm grip on Aimée’s shirt. She wore a white formal shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and long black pants. The girl looked at the bully and yelled, “Better run Alex before the teachers come.” Her voice sounded flat and empty, as if all the emotion had been drained out. The bully, Alex, dropped the bleeding girl and ran off, but the small girl didn’t let Aimée go. “Leave her,” the small girl warned, “nobody goes near Treeroot, unless to hit her…” Aimée looked at Treeroot, her shirt and pants looked like they were made of stitched together green leaves and her chest displayed a breastplate made of wood, Treeroot’s skin was covered in scars and bruises, and her yellow eyes looked like they held a dark secret. Aimée wondered what it was. Treeroot looked extremely flexible and very nervous; she picked herself up, jumped up a tree with the ease of a cat, jumped to the roof of the closest building and ran off. “Oh and by the way,” she continued, letting go of Aimée’s shirt, “My name is Emma. But everyone calls me Mackintosh.”


* * * *


Emma had shown Aimée what her time table said, and it revealed that today they both had art together in D4, but first Aimée had Math in C12. After form Aimée found her class, she was asked to stand so her classmates knew ‘who the new student was’. Aimée hated being the centre of attention, Stupid teacher she thought,
“I am, erg, Mr. Hatch,” he announced. Mr. Hatch was wearing a coffee stained shirt, a tie, and dark brown pants, his short blond hair was half brushed and his hazel eyes never stopped moving.
“I was going to have a, um, pop quiz but since there’s a new, err, student you will only have to fill out this, this work sheet.” Mr. Hatch then started to hand out the sheets, the whole class started whispering and smiling at Aimée in a ‘thank god you came’ way. When he was heading to the front of the class Mr. Hatch did something strange, he passed a sheet out the window and a hand came down from the roof and took it. Aimée looked down at her sheet trying to make sense of what she saw, someone was on the roof she thought, and they needed our… she realized what was on the sheet, Aimée felt a smile spread across her face Riddles! I love riddles; I wonder why they have them in Math? Aimée had forgotten about the person on the roof and scanned the page for a riddle she hadn’t heard yet.

The beginning of eternity
the end of time and space
the beginning of every end,
and the end of every place

Easy, it’s the letter e Aimée thought, and wrote it down. The whole Math class was having trouble but Aimée zipped through the riddles like a warm knife through butter. Who knew that high school would be so easy?

After class Aimée felt happy and ready for the next lesson; Art. After walking around the school trying to find D block, Aimée walked up the steps to her classroom, at the top she saw Emma. Aimée ran up to her,
“Salut Emma.” She looked up at Aimée with a confused stare but then her face cleared when Emma realized who she was,
“Everyone calls me Mackintosh, I told you.” Before Aimée could reply the teacher unlocked the door and the class filtered through. Aimée sat in front of Emma and wondered Why she doesn’t like her name? But Aimée didn’t think about it for long because Treeroot had jumped through the classroom window and landed in the seat in front of her. The teacher didn’t seem to notice, or care.
“Good morning class, you may continue with your assignments.” Aimée’s hand shot up into the air,
“Miss,” she said, after the teacher had walked up to her, “I’m new to Canstar, and I don’t know what we’re doing.” The teacher smiled and moved out of the way of a rushing student.
“My name is Ms Ellis, and I believe that a student should have all the time they can to do their assignments, it is called ‘Do what you Can’ and basically you Do what you Can. For example: Jane,” she said pointing to a girl who looked like she’d come from a teen fashion magazine, “is a fashion queen, so she’s making a dress.” Jane was sewing together two fabrics that looked in style.
“Mackintosh,” she continued pointing to a black screen, “is a computer whiz, so she’s making a sculpture out of scrap metal from her other projects” Aimée saw bright zaps of light coming from behind the black cover. “What are you good at?” Aimée paused in thought.
“Well,” she started, “I like painting and I’ve been having a really… Strange dream. So, Maybe I could paint my dream?”
Ms Ellis smiled and said in a reassuring tone,
“That would be perfect.” She pointed to a cupboard beside Emma, “you’ll find small easels in there, I find it’s much easier to paint sitting down at your desk than standing up.”

After Aimée had gathered up her utensils and colors she started on the background, she didn’t watch what she was doing, she was watching Treeroot. Treeroot had made a handful of figures out of clay, and went to get paint, Aimée stared at them Oh man, she thought, look at the detail, it looks alive! And very much like Treeroot the figures were all the same. Strong men with their hands beside them, their smiles seemed like one from a prince charming. The eyes! The eyes where spellbindingly magnificent, like a dragons she mused I wish I could meet her model, he’s cute. Aimée looked back at her canvas, it was perfect, and the colors melted together just like her dream. Aimée smiled, she had to wait for the paint to dry before she continued.
After awhile, Aimée heard a very loud zap followed by a very angry voice.
“Frizzle!” Emma walked out from behind the screen shaking one hand and pulling dark goggles off with the other. Emma’s goggles dangled around her neck as she walked toward the sink looking at her wounded hand.
Ouch! Aimée thought, that looks like it hurts. Emma ran her hand under the cold water. She looked around and spied Aimée looking at her, Aimée saw her become enlightened but confused; it was the strangest face she had ever seen. Emma turned off the tap and walked back to her work. Not taking her eyes off Aimée, she got a good look at Emma before she disappeared behind the barrier. Emma had slender arms and long fingers, her triangle shaped face was pimple-free, her Greek nose was short and her eyes were round and chocolate brown. She changed her face to one with no emotion and pulled up her goggles, Emma rubbed her hand before going back to work. That let Aimée see the end of a thick scar on her right arm just above her elbow. Aimée looked at her painting, the background had dried but she just gazed at it trying to make sense of her head, Dieu she thought, my mind’s a mess.