The Time Shifter by Cerberus Jones

Amelia finished washing her hands at the sink and went back to put up her chair, wiping her hands on her uniform. Around her, it was the usual Friday afternoon chaos. Shani and Sophie F were still trying to do a bit more on their self-portraits, whereas Charlie had packed up ages ago and already had his bag by his desk, ready to go as soon as the bell rang. The rest of the class were somewhere in between, washing paintbrushes, hanging art smocks and pegging up wet paintings.
    Sophie T weaved between the tables, narrowly avoiding Erik as he flipped his chair upside down and put it on his desk. She was so focused on not spilling the jar of filthy paint-water she was carrying that she didn’t notice Charlie’s bag until she tripped over it.
    She let out a little shriek of dismay and went sprawling to the floor, landing flat on the paint palette she had in her other hand. The jar of water slopped all over Dean and sent paintbrushes scattering to the carpet.
    Amelia cringed as Sophie T picked herself up. The whole front of her uniform was now blotched with bright patches of colour. Her face was blotchy, too, but that was from the red flush of fury. Sophie T turned to Charlie, her eyes flashing, and opened her mouth to yell.
    ‘Charlie, you –’
    The bell rang loudly. ‘All right, you lot!’ called Ms Slaviero. ‘Don’t forget your notes for next week’s excursion.’
    Charlie grabbed his bag, ignoring Sophie T completely, and headed for the door. Amelia gave her a quick, sympathetic smile, then followed Charlie out as Ms Slaviero grumbled cheerfully to Sophie T and Dean, ‘Come on, then. Let’s get you two cleaned up.’
    Outside, it was a perfect Forgotten Bay summer afternoon – the kind you wished would last forever. Amelia and Charlie began the familiar walk back up to the hotel.
    ‘The thing about Sophie T,’ Charlie said, ‘is that she’s always blaming someone else. She never admits it’s her fault. Like, how is it my problem that she’s stupid and clumsy? Oh wait, that’s right – because she makes it my problem. And another thing –’
    ‘Charlie …’ Amelia groaned. ‘Who cares? You don’t have to see her again until Monday. Can’t we talk about something else?’
    ‘OK,’ said Charlie, easily. ‘I’ll tell you what I was thinking about when I was painting: the portrait that used to be in your bedroom. You know, of old what’s-her-name.’
    ‘Matilda Swervingthorpe.’
    When the Walkers had arrived at the Gateway Hotel, it was full of the original owner’s things from over a hundred years before: massive pieces of wooden furniture, vases, books, artist’s easels and loads and loads of paintings. Most of the paintings in the corridors and library were of bowls of fruit and landscapes, but in Amelia’s room there was a huge portrait in a heavy gilt frame.
    The woman in the portrait had looked very kind, but there was something unbearable about the way her eyes followed Amelia around, especially when she needed to get changed. So Dad had taken Matilda Swervingthorpe out of her room.
    ‘Matilda Swervingthorpe,’ Charlie mused. ‘That’s right. I was thinking about how your dad said she disappeared.’
    Amelia laughed. ‘Yeah, when he said it, I thought she must have gotten lost in the bush or fallen off the cliff.’
    ‘But now it’s obvious, isn’t it? She must have gone through the gateway. Do you think Tom knows anything about it?’
    ‘Do you think he’d tell us if he did?’
    Then, up ahead, Grawk came bounding out of the bushes, his paws covered in dirt. His fur was standing all on end, and a growl rumbled deep in his chest.
    ‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked Charlie, eyeing the not-quite-a-dog warily.
    ‘I don’t know. He’s been acting strange lately – like, eating all the time and being super grouchy. He won’t even let me scratch behind his ears anymore.’
    ‘He sounds like James,’ grinned Charlie. ‘Except for the ears bit.’
    Grawk barked at them and