Dreamrider by Barry Jonsberg

circle broke and Mr Atkins was in front of me. Jamie let go of my shirt and carefully brushed me down, as if getting rid of wrinkles.
    â€˜No, Sir,’ said Jamie. ‘Just getting acquainted with the new boy. Isn’t that right, new boy?’
    I nodded. Mr Atkins gave a small shake of his head.
    â€˜Excellent,’ he said. He sounded bright and cheerful, but his eyes told a different story. ‘That is very public-spirited of you, Mr Archer. You embody all that has made Millways what it is today and I won’t forget it. Trust me on that. However, there is only so much bonhomie I can tolerate on my yard duty, so I suggest you and your friends move on now. Spread the good cheer, Jamie.’
    Jamie smiled, but it was thin.
    â€˜Sure, Sir. No problem, Sir. Guess I’ll catch you later, eh, new boy?’
    â€˜His name is Michael, Mr Archer,’ said Mr Atkins. We watched as Jamie strolled off. He sat on a wall about ten metres away, his friends ranged on either side. They stared back at us.
    â€˜Do something, Michael,’ said Mr Atkins. His voice didn’t carry far. ‘Do something.’
    â€˜I’ve got to go,’ I said. ‘Thanks, Sir.’
    I made my way to the tree I had found yesterday. Throughout the walk, eyes were an itch in the small of my back. I sat against the gnarled trunk and unpacked my lunch. Two Tim Tams, but the rest was boring – a salad sandwich, an apple and low-fat rice crackers. I ate slowly, gazing out over the oval. Time passed. Four or five wedge-tailed kites hovered, riding the air lazily. The sky was sharp, the trees were hard-edged, the clouds cut-out shapes. The scene was a child’s drawing, all primary colours.
    One of the kites swooped towards me, and it was a bird in two dimensions. Turning, it was as thin as paper, a black line against impossible blue. I looked at my sandwich. It bulged with meat. I pried open the two halves of bread. The thick slabs of meat were drenched in gravy. I replaced the bread and bit into it. The taste flooded my body with pleasure.
    I brushed crumbs off my lap and stood. What was I going to do with this time? I felt, briefly, the urge to find Jamie, but the moment passed. I’d had enough of violence. Time for something different.
    The school’s administration section was busy, but I passed through it unseen. A filing cabinet in an inner office gave me the address of Atkins, Keith. I memorised it and left. It didn’t take long to find the house, either. It was only a ten-minute walk from school. I stood outside the front gates.
    It was a big house showing signs of age. Paint was peeling from the weatherboards and the garden was sprinkled with weeds. A large dog basked in a pool of sunshine by the front door. There was no sign of anyone. I opened the gate and the dog jumped up, a low growl building in its throat. In real life I would have been frightened. The dog’s hackles rose and its lips curled back, revealing yellow teeth. I’ve always been scared of big dogs, even if they can’t harm me. This one stared right through me, like I was something dimly sensed. It was unnerving. I felt like a ghost. I suppose in a way I was.
    I skirted the dog and knocked on the door. For a while it appeared that no one was home. I knocked again and the sound resounded through the house. I didn’t want to just open the door and go in. Manners are important, even in the Dream. Finally I heard a faint sound from inside. Someone was coming. There was a shuffling sound, as if someone old was moving, slowly and painfully. I thought about leaving then. It’s impossible to intrude on your own dreams, yet that’s how I felt. An intruder. But I didn’t leave.
    The door opened. A thin, frail woman stood like an old person, as if bent by an invisible weight. Her hair was thin, wispy and faded, like something left too long in the sun, but when I looked at her face I knew she couldn’t have been