The Great Barrier

Chapter

: The Paintbrush

Ophelia Ophelia woke up hungry , aching and uncomfortable. What gave her the bright idea to sleep on the edge of an oil rig? She was going to be in so much trouble when she got back – Ms Doyle would never let her out of her sight. Judging by the fact that the sun was just rising over the horizon, there was a chance the teachers hadn’t woken her classmates up yet. She still had time to get back. Maybe if she could just slip silently into the great hall she could pass with the excuse of going to the toilet. She might still get in trouble because of the slim chances of Ms Doyle believing her (Ophelia couldn’t imagine why) but at least she wouldn’t be found out. She managed to find her way to the entrance without spotting anyone, and was so close to relaxing. Then, she pushed open the door and found herself staring directly at Ms Doyle. Fantastic. “ Good morning, Ophelia, is it a nice day out today?” Ms Doyle had never looked more smug. “So sorry I was outside without permission Miss,” Ms Doyle hated it when people called her Miss, “I was just feeling really sick . I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by throwing up in my dormitory.” Ms Doyle’s mouth was a line, “Well, you’re looking bright and healthy now.” “Yes Miss, thankfully I feel all better now from the fresh air. I should go to my dorm to get as much sleep as I can now.” Ophelia smiled and tried to skip her way past the nuisance teacher blocking her path, but Ms Doyle stepped in front of her. “Deary me, no that won’t do, you must come with me to the infirmary. We wouldn’t want the other students catching whatever you have.” Ms Doyle grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her away. Ophelia had a feeling she would never be let out of the infirmary again. As she walked away, she suddenly felt a pain in her foot. She reached down and found a small, gold paintbrush, which was seemingly humming with warmth. Ophelia tucked it into the waist of her pyjama pants before Ms Doyle could take it off her - she didn’t know how it got there, but she could tell it was important. Owen The sun was inescapable as Owen sailed towards the boarding school. The presentation was only supposed to take fifteen minutes; he just hoped it was enough to invoke change. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he disembarked his boat. Thankfully, the presentation went smoothly. In fact, it piqued the interest of a number of curious students, which Owen loved to see. With the presentation done, Owen found a place to sit by the edge of the oil rig under the shade of the abandoned crane. Leaning against a steel beam, he closed his eyes, took in a deep breath through his nose, and left himself to his own devices. The ocean was calm and peaceful, without the roar of the shore but still with a flared personality. He was happy. The absence of the ocean’s roar, however, made the singing from the depths ever-more omnipresent. He thought it was a simple whistle at first, but soon realised that it wasn’t that at all. It grew louder and