by M S C Barnes
you, it is your doubt.”
“Precisely what I told him!” the leaf-boy uttered, sticking his chin out.
Seb stared at The Head. “You can see him? He’s real? I’m not imagining— ”
There was a sudden hiss as the coach doors opened.
Mr Duir stood. “Master Lord, I hope you are feeling a bit warmer. Thanks, Dominic.”
Seb craned his neck around the seat backs to see a tousled and confused Aiden, two cups of steaming hot chocolate in his hands, climb the coach steps, Mr White behind him. Aiden smiled sheepishly at Seb and shuffled towards the vacant seat next to him, passing through the ghostly leaf-boy without noticing. He sat down and handed a cup to Seb. The teachers said nothing, waiting.
Seb felt too awkward to speak. So it seemed did Aiden.
Eventually Mr Duir said, “Things will be a lot easier if you talk to each other.”
Seb wondered what he was supposed to say. In the end it was Aiden who spoke, “I am sorry I shouted at you, Seb. I was just so frightened and you …” he stopped, unable to find the right words.
“I know, you thought I made it worse out there,” Seb said.
The leaf-boy flitted upward and hovered mystifyingly just below the coach roof. “You did!”
Mr Duir glared at him, giving a small shake of his head.
“The storm caused the problems Seb,” Aiden said.
“It’s just that out there I saw …” Seb paused, unsure whether to continue. “Well, I don’t know what I saw.” He hung his head.
“Course you don’t!” The leaf-boy frowned.
“Do not interfere.” Mr Duir became angry.
Aiden jerked his head up thinking the comment was directed at him and then seeing the direction of The Head’s gaze, turned to look.
“Well he is clueless!” The leaf-boy perched on the headrest in front of Seb.
“You would do well not to be rude. He has not had the advantages of your existence. Do not mock, young Dryad!”
“Dryad?” Aiden seized on the word. “I’ve read about Dryads!” He looked at where Mr Duir had been gazing.
“And what have you read?” Mr White asked.
Seb watched his friend whose eyes were now roaming the space around them.
“Well, I know they are ethereal creatures, tree spirits actually, only visible to those they want to be visible to.” He turned back to Mr Duir. “Is there a Dryad here?”
Seb was surprised how open Aiden was to the idea. “Aiden, you don’t really believe such things exist do you?” he mumbled.
Aiden turned to him with wide eyes. “Of course I do, Seb.” He gave no further explanation but began looking around again.
“Of course he does, Seb,” the Dryad echoed. “I love this boy!” He turned to Mr Duir. “Why couldn’t he have been my twin?” In a sudden blur he disappeared, only to reappear sitting on the headrest above Aiden, patting him on the head.
Seb felt a stab of hurt pride at the Dryad’s rejection of him in favour of a friend who couldn’t even see him. “Why, of course?” he snapped. “Why? We are old enough not to believe in fairies, in Father Christmas, in pixies and elves! Why of course would he believe you exist?” Seb was shouting and Aiden recoiled then, realising his rant was aimed behind him, looked over his own shoulder. “It is not wrong of me to not believe. People would think I’m mad if I told them I was seeing a boy, who looks like me, covered in leaves! Stop giving me a hard time for not believing in something I have been told is not real!”
“Seb! You can see something?” Aiden sounded so excited.
Seb’s anger had subsided slightly after his outburst and he slouched back in his seat, trying to ignore the Dryad. The more he thought about the worry and upset he had experienced over the last week, believing he was losing his mind, the more he decided he really didn’t like this Dryad who seemed to know so much and be ridiculing him for knowing so little. He crossed his arms.
“Oh, and now you sulk. You won’t face what you are and what you can see and so your defence is to sulk. Very grown-up!” The Dryad’s fluttering words were like the crackling of autumn leaves.
“I’m not a grown-up,” Seb shot back, “and, actually, neither are you! I don’t know what you expect from me but I want nothing from you. Leave me alone!” He stared angrily out of the window.
“Wow, Seb. Calm down.” Aiden was trying to grasp what was going on.
Mr Duir stepped forward. “Speak your name,” he said harshly to the Dryad.
The creature folded his arms and lifted his chin in the air. “I will not,” he bristled.
“Do not try me, Dryad. Speak your name.” The words were not shouted but they were said in a tone that made Seb turn and face Mr Duir. The look of thunder on his face conveyed a clear warning.
The Dryad slumped and murmured, “Aiden, Dominic – I am Alice.”
As he spoke the name, Aiden fell off his seat into the aisle, landing on Mr Duir’s feet. He stared up, open-mouthed at the Dryad who Seb guessed from his reaction had just become visible to him.
“A … well … a Dryad!” Aiden finally managed to blurt out.
Seb began laughing. “A Dryad named Alice, Aiden!” He tried to suppress his giggles. “That’s really your name – Alice?” He turned to the Dryad.
“Yes it’s my name!” The leafy character lifted off the back of the seat and flitted over to hover behind Mr Duir. “And you ought not to laugh.”
“Seb, that’s enough,” Mr Duir cautioned. “Names have powerful meanings for Dryads, in fact for all. Do not make fun.”
Seb’s laughter stopped as he saw the serious looks on the faces of the teachers and felt bad when he saw the pained expression on the Dryad’s.
“It’s just that Alice is a girl’s name, isn’t it?” He looked to Aiden for support but Aiden was still staring, open-mouthed at Alice.
“Sounds in one language can mean and be associated with many different things in other languages, Seb. You cannot spend your life restricting yourself to one experience, one perspective. In fact, it is essential that you do not.” Mr Duir spoke quietly, watching Seb.
“The sky is clearing,” Mr White muttered.
The change of subject drew everyone’s attention to the world outside the coach where the cloud cover was lifting.
Believing is Seeing
A tap on the door of the coach broke the silence and Mr West climbed the steps. “Mrs Parkinson has offered the use of their sports hall for the children to have lunch.”
“That’s fine, Greg.” Mr Duir turned back to face Seb and Aiden, with Alice still hovering behind him, more subdued. “What you see is real. All you see is real. Your Dryad twin, Alice, is here to guide you and to reopen your mind to the realities it has learned to close off. You do not like him?” Seb didn’t answer. “He does not like you,” Mr Duir stated flatly. Seb felt a twinge of hurt. “That your starting point is one of dislike and mistrust is not a bad thing. You will each have to prove your worth to the other.”
Seb flicked his eyes towards Alice. The Dryad looked angrily back at him, his expression laced with loathing. Seb felt his own dislike swell. He decided he was simply going to ignore this creature. He had no need of him. In fact, so far, Alice had brought him nothing but trouble and worry.
He frowned at the brightening sky. The tail of the storm was clearing away, leaving a refreshed and pristine blueness to the cloudless expanse he now saw outside. The return of the sunshine brought sudden warmth to the soaking ground and a mist of evaporating rainwater lifted from the playground surface. Seb’s thoughts were building in ferocity and defiance. His eyes watched the mist, and spiralling vaporous columns began to rise. He remembered his fear at the Bank, caused by Alice he believed and, getting angrier, he watched the columns swirl and thicken.
Mr Duir reached past Aiden and put a hand on Seb’s shoulder. “Seb, anger and resentment can be very destructive.”
The touch made Seb jump guiltily. He turned as the sp
iralling columns disappeared, replaced by a low layer of hazy mist, which lay like a blanket just above the surface of the playground.
“It is lunchtime, Alice,” The Head said to the sulking Dryad. “You will accompany your twin. The number and nature of those who see you is up to you, as you know, but it may help your relationship with Seb if you include those he will also need.”
The noise of chattering and footsteps signalled the return of the other students and nothing more was said by Mr Duir or Mr White, who got off the coach.
Chaos followed as the pupils, in the wrong order, stomped along the aisle, barging past each other to where they had been seated to retrieve their lunch bags.
In the noise Aiden turned to Seb. “Seb, you are so lucky; Alice is so cool and weirdly he looks exactly like you, except for the leaves and things!”
Seb felt secluded in the double seats, surrounded by noise and he mumbled back to Aiden, “Aiden, he was the one who caused the problem, out there, in the dark. He had hold of my arm. That’s what made me panic and stop. And when I tried to move he told me to stand still, right where the dog was!” Seb was talking in rapid sentences, trying to keep his voice from being heard by Alice.
Aiden looked lost. “What dog? I didn’t see a dog.”
“Aiden, there was a dog, and it was like he wanted us to be attacked by that awful beast!” Seb whispered.
“What beast, Seb?” Aiden looked alarmed.
“A massive dog, with glowing red eyes. It wasn’t the brake lights of the coach we saw – it was horrible, angry eyes. The dog! It was just about to pounce on you when Mr Duir and Miss