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Authors: Naomi Fraser
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what it is. Why didn’t you swim like that when you fell off the
cliff?”
Yeah, that is the million dollar
question. The swaying branches and rustling leaves hold my attention as I think
over Ashly’s gibes. I touch my hips and wince at the
tenderness. “I can’t remember getting to the cliff, let alone falling.
All I remember is a song. Maybe seeing my father’s face. And, I couldn’t swim like that before.” The confession feels silly coming out
of my mouth, even if Bethany knows, because she saw me win the backstroke
trial. I shake my head and glance away. “Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll meet you at the gate after school.”
Before Bethany can reply, I’m practically
running away.
13
AT THE END of the school day, I catch the bus home. I still
haven’t gotten around to fixing my shoe. I gaze out at the mismatched materials
that form an endless line of old Queenslanders. It’s like the owners discover this
bit and that, and then think, hey, this will fit. Rusted tin with blue walls,
or tiny green cottages and waist-high, chain-link fences. Even the crumbling
houses are worth a fortune in Wynnum. The bus revs to get up the hill, crests
and then all I see is blue.
The bay seems deeper and bigger
than the sky. Sparkling sapphire stretches at my feet across the horizon. I
can’t take it all in at once, and my heart expands. I am higher than the
clouds. At the bottom of the hill, the trimmed, green parklands come into view.
Maybe I can visit the beach this afternoon and be amongst the beauty.
Just before I reach my stop, I
press the signal button, and the bus pulls alongside the curb. Exiting the bus,
my smartphone jingles in my shirt pocket. I quickly check the messages, turning
my back on the sea breeze. Two unread, one from Mum and another from Bethany.
The taste of metal coats my tongue at not talking to Beth before I left school.
The glass doors slap shut behind me, and the roar of the bus makes me look up to
check I’m not about to be run over.
I trek down the street toward our
house and open Mum’s text first: Can you cook dinner, pls ?
I’ll be working late.
I reply back: Ok
Then I swallow and check
Bethany’s text: Sry if I upset u 2day. I
didn’t mean 2
I sigh and answer back: That’s
ok. Just had 2 think for a bit
She replies immediately: Sure.
Can u hav a sleepover? Catch the bus home with me
Fri, tomoz? We’ll go shopping Sat
I text back: I’ll c when mum
gets home. Sounds g
She replies: Ok :)
I’m browsing music sites on my
phone as I stroll through the front door to our house, but I drop my bag in the
hallway and then start on dinner. Cut the potatoes; add sliced onions to the
pot. Stir the gravy with a fork. Dad would give me jobs in the kitchen when I
got home from school. He’d help me conjure spaghetti or crumbed steak. Big fat
chips to dip into fried eggs and coleslaw swimming with delicious mayonnaise. I
stop what I’m doing and smile at his memory. “Dad.” I am adept at doing the basics because of him.
While the steaks and vegetables
cook, I undress and put on some R&B music and rummage through my closet,
deciding what to wear to the shops with Bethany. It never crosses my mind Mum
might say no to the trip. I need more swag, but a lot of my clothes already make
me look too much like a boy.
Too many
hoodies. I pull out my black Vans and black socks with the white Vans
logo on the ankle and then pack them into my school bag. My
favourite blue jeans, high-waisted short shorts, pyjamas, t-shirt and
underwear. I get a purple hoody and jam it in. Maybe Mum might give me
more money to buy some cute tops. My old clothes are perfect for the cold
weather down south. Not so much here.
I don’t want to be the odd one
out.
I eat dinner on the recliner in
the lounge room and then switch on the TV. For having cable, it’s amazing how
often I find absolutely nothing is on except ads. I flick through the channels,
and a newsbreak comes in the ad of one of my favourite
cliff?”
Yeah, that is the million dollar
question. The swaying branches and rustling leaves hold my attention as I think
over Ashly’s gibes. I touch my hips and wince at the
tenderness. “I can’t remember getting to the cliff, let alone falling.
All I remember is a song. Maybe seeing my father’s face. And, I couldn’t swim like that before.” The confession feels silly coming out
of my mouth, even if Bethany knows, because she saw me win the backstroke
trial. I shake my head and glance away. “Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll meet you at the gate after school.”
Before Bethany can reply, I’m practically
running away.
13
AT THE END of the school day, I catch the bus home. I still
haven’t gotten around to fixing my shoe. I gaze out at the mismatched materials
that form an endless line of old Queenslanders. It’s like the owners discover this
bit and that, and then think, hey, this will fit. Rusted tin with blue walls,
or tiny green cottages and waist-high, chain-link fences. Even the crumbling
houses are worth a fortune in Wynnum. The bus revs to get up the hill, crests
and then all I see is blue.
The bay seems deeper and bigger
than the sky. Sparkling sapphire stretches at my feet across the horizon. I
can’t take it all in at once, and my heart expands. I am higher than the
clouds. At the bottom of the hill, the trimmed, green parklands come into view.
Maybe I can visit the beach this afternoon and be amongst the beauty.
Just before I reach my stop, I
press the signal button, and the bus pulls alongside the curb. Exiting the bus,
my smartphone jingles in my shirt pocket. I quickly check the messages, turning
my back on the sea breeze. Two unread, one from Mum and another from Bethany.
The taste of metal coats my tongue at not talking to Beth before I left school.
The glass doors slap shut behind me, and the roar of the bus makes me look up to
check I’m not about to be run over.
I trek down the street toward our
house and open Mum’s text first: Can you cook dinner, pls ?
I’ll be working late.
I reply back: Ok
Then I swallow and check
Bethany’s text: Sry if I upset u 2day. I
didn’t mean 2
I sigh and answer back: That’s
ok. Just had 2 think for a bit
She replies immediately: Sure.
Can u hav a sleepover? Catch the bus home with me
Fri, tomoz? We’ll go shopping Sat
I text back: I’ll c when mum
gets home. Sounds g
She replies: Ok :)
I’m browsing music sites on my
phone as I stroll through the front door to our house, but I drop my bag in the
hallway and then start on dinner. Cut the potatoes; add sliced onions to the
pot. Stir the gravy with a fork. Dad would give me jobs in the kitchen when I
got home from school. He’d help me conjure spaghetti or crumbed steak. Big fat
chips to dip into fried eggs and coleslaw swimming with delicious mayonnaise. I
stop what I’m doing and smile at his memory. “Dad.” I am adept at doing the basics because of him.
While the steaks and vegetables
cook, I undress and put on some R&B music and rummage through my closet,
deciding what to wear to the shops with Bethany. It never crosses my mind Mum
might say no to the trip. I need more swag, but a lot of my clothes already make
me look too much like a boy.
Too many
hoodies. I pull out my black Vans and black socks with the white Vans
logo on the ankle and then pack them into my school bag. My
favourite blue jeans, high-waisted short shorts, pyjamas, t-shirt and
underwear. I get a purple hoody and jam it in. Maybe Mum might give me
more money to buy some cute tops. My old clothes are perfect for the cold
weather down south. Not so much here.
I don’t want to be the odd one
out.
I eat dinner on the recliner in
the lounge room and then switch on the TV. For having cable, it’s amazing how
often I find absolutely nothing is on except ads. I flick through the channels,
and a newsbreak comes in the ad of one of my favourite
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