Chapter 21

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I wanted to be in the Abandoned Spaces show so badly it hurt. An idea came to me in a dream. I was caught in a storm, but it wasn't rain, it was yellow paint showering down on me. I was scared, because I was going to be drenched in yellow paint and my parents were going to think I'd been out spraypainting. It was my conscience pouring down on me.

I had that lovely feeling when I woke; thank goodness it was only a dream, here I am, in my bed, not covered in paint. But it gave me the idea I needed for the show. I wanted to paint two figures holding black umbrellas, back to back, shielding themselves from yellow paint raining down. I could see it so clearly. I had to do it.

My parents' online meeting with Mr Colter went well. Afterwards my father said, 'He speaks very highly of you.'

'We didn't mention the spraypainting thing,' mum said. 'He doesn't know, does he?'

'Of course not,' I assured her.

'Good. No one needs to know, do they?' mum said, as though we were collectively hiding Melbourne's most illicit secret.

'No one at school knows,' I confirmed.

'Colter says you'll have to be dedicated, the application process is very rigorous,' dad stated.

'I know,' I said.

'And it's very competitive,' mum said. I picked at the dead skin beside my nail and forced myself to remain quiet. I wondered how they hadn't noticed all the sketchbooks and art books in my room. How sometimes I stayed up until midnight just drawing. How the only time I was truly happy was when I was creating something. Only then could I experience an inner life so rich I was dripping in gold. Dedication was my DNA.  

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