Rupert always liked the way his father would talk to him about Rosa-land. The sound of rushing water, the smell of leafy green bushes under the rain and the sight of a thousand lifetimes crammed into his little head. This is where Rupert had been with his thoughts all morning and all afternoon the pervious day. Even his art class couldn’t compare, for this picture of his was the most crystal clear Van Gogh he had ever seen. Rupert had known Rosa-land all of his life, but he still found his way into many new glistening waterfalls, spraying him with rain and even more caverns, filled with throbbing red gems and scarred saphires.

“Hey, Rupie”, His father reached for his son’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you dressed, huh?”

Every morning, Rupert sat in his chair while his father dressed him, fed him and took him to the bus; In fact, it had gotten so routine that he couldn’t tie his own shoelaces on command. ‘Don’t try to brush your teeth alone or you’ll get toothpaste all over your shirt!’, His father would say to him. Rupert knew what he was doing. His father wasn’t a bad man, just that he said ‘here, let me get that for you’ and ‘I’ve got it’ all to much to Rupert, and it sometimes angered him. All this led to though, was the two of them sitting on Rupert’s bed, tears down their cheeks and reminissing about what Mom used to be like.

Once out of bed and into his chair, his arms went up as a new fresh, crinkly shirt fluttered over his head. Shirt done. Next came the socks, finding their way around his feet. Snug. Then, he had two raspberry jelly sandwiches, the way he had always had them. One glass of milk, one pencil case and one note slipped into his top pocket more, and he would be ready for the day.

The ramp went up on the bus, and so did Rupert. The sound of buzzing flies took over from the sound of laughter and chatter. A hundred eyes honed onto rupert as he made his way to the back of the bus; it reminded him of the fireflies he had seen traversing the thick, mossy jungle he had encountered the night before. As the bus departed, conversation sprung up again like the grabbing, green vines on the Elder Magic Tree that dominated the landscape for miles around.

First lesson: English. Next lesson is...

“Look up and face the front, Rupert!”, Mrs Bridget’s old face was stern; like a closed book. Not one for excuses.

Rupert sat without a word spilling from his mouth.

“Can you tell the class what we were discussing?”

Of course he couldn’t. Not all the memory-fruits in all of Rosa-land could save him.

“We were discussing the use of sympathy in the novel”, The sound came from the back of the room.

“Well done Billie. Best pay attention, hmm?”, Mrs Bridget’s long chin swayed in Rupert’s direction.

Billie had saved him. Rupert never needed to concentrate in English again.

Next lesson: Art.

It turned out that Billie also liked Art. Rupert learned this while talking to the shy, sidestepping girl that had rescued him from his great dilema. He also found out that she had a keen sense of hearing and that she could hear a few more thousand decibals more than any other kid in their grade. Rupert liked Billie, but there was something not quite right. She payed no attention to the fact that she was talking above Rupert. Nor did she comment on Rupert’s chair. Rupert decided he would make up his mind about her later.

Mr Rowan was a brilliant Art teacher. ‘just let them paint’ he would say, even at parent’s evenings.

“And what’s this?”, Asked Mr Rowan, tilting his glasses to match Rupert’s perspective.

“It’s Pinchtop mountain”. Exclaimed Rupert.

“What?”

“It’s the mountain I always climb”, Rupert paused “To meet the old rough-backs in their huts.”

Mr Rowan’s eyes had moved on to Billie’s own piece.

“Ah, I see. A grand old oak tree”, Rowan thought aloud.

“No, it’s the Magic Tree, covered with the thick, twisting vines in Hatchvalley cove”, Billie slid her finger across the vast network of vines she had painted.

“Alright”, Mr Rowan bowed his head and went back to his desk, as the other children paused to follow his movement.

Rupert was astonished. The same Magic Tree he knew had been pictured in the real world. Somewhere that wasn’t Rosa-land.

“Like it?”, Questioned Billie as she put down her brush and faced Rupert.

Rupert didn’t answer. Not even a twitch on his lips.

Rupert followed the paths of the vines on the tree with his finger, just as Billie had done. Then, he looked at the roots. Bulging, great roots that sprung out of the ground, followed by the gargantuous, twisting branches that climbed all the way to the top of the tree.

“Should I take that as a yes?”, Billie was staring at Rupert, perplexed as to why he was touching her painting.

“I like it”, Mumbled Rupert.

Art class over. That picture, no matter how familiar it was to him, lay on the top of his mind for the rest of the day.

Until they got on the bus, that was.

“Hey!”, Her excited tone caught on with Rupert as she perched herself onto the seat next to his. Rupert didn’t speak and Billie shuffled uncomfortably as the bus pulled from the school. Rupert’s chair was being difficult; the lever for the brakes wouldn’t move.

Got it.

“That must suck, huh?”, She didn’t look at him after Rupert looked back, but her words were sensetive enough for him to answer back.

“ Yeah”, That was all Rupert was ever going to say on that. Billie re-organised herself, but wasn’t tempted to leave him alone.

“You know what I do when I’m sad?”, Rupert’s eyes drifted closer to Billie’s face, as he became intrigued to what she was going to say.

“I close my eyes and dream of a big, mystical place. A place full of exploration and adventure. Where only I can be”, Her face wandered off into the distance, as she fantasised about the grandeur of the place.

‘Rosa-land’, Rupert’s face looked into deep concentration.

That’s when the bus stopped.

“Gotta go”, Rupert wheeled himself off the bus, opened the door, went to his room and got on his bed. He ignored the ‘Hey, how’d your day go?’ from his father, who was on his way to see him.

“You didn’t say ‘hi’”, His father now stood at the doorway.

“You just gonna let me stand here?”, His father’s tone was getting serious, but Rupert didn’t mind. He knew what would follow.

His father paced falteringly over to his son’s bed, sat down and took the note from Rupert’s pocket. He rotated the note, to find it was still sealed, just the way it was acquired.

“Do you know what this is, Rupert?”, His sincere voice was met with Rupert’s attention.

The note was written crudely and the writing was jaggered. Rupert learned this as his father pierced the seal with his fingernail, displaying the small note in front of both their eyes’.

Meanwhile, Billie had already gotten home, had dinner and kissed her Mom ‘goodnight’, with each smiling at the other, drowning the other with the thought that tomorrow would bring blue skies and buttercups. Not a chance in a place like this.

“Your mother was very creative. She had a passion for adventure, so she and I would go to a very special place. Somewhere where nobody could see us”, Rupert’s father paused, reflective of his former companion. “I told you stories about that place when you were little”.

“Rosalind. I miss you”, Lee made his way to Rupert’s door, head low and voice discrete.
Rupert turned on his side and dragged over the covers. Her father left the room, going to his own, ‘goodnight’.

But Rupert had already gone to sleep. He dreamed of the handsome peaks above and the intricate pool of green that was the jungle below. The sound of eagles pitched up, and Rupert would have to hurry, as the Rough-Backs of Pinchtop Mountain would be displeased with him if he wasn’t on time. Rupert sat down and watched the sun set, dipping into the valley like warm ice cream melting into a sundae.

“Hello?”, A voice shouted. Rupert drew his attention away from the sunset to the jungle, upon hearing it. Strange, Rupert thought, the Wild Six Legged Cats of the jungle have never spoken before.

There was a rustling of bushes and crackling of branches; a strange figure emerged...

“Rupert?”, The voice now recognised Rupert and Rupert recognised the voice. It was something (or someone) Rupert had never even thought possible.

“You’re... you’re not in your chair anymore”, Billie observed.

Rupert was not one for words at that moment. Billie learned this as he took her hand and explained where he was taking her.

The Rough Backs would be most pleased, after all.