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Authors: Henrietta Rose-Innes
Tags: Homing
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cigarette.
“Is that his name? The round guy? No … you know. I’m sure he’s perfectly nice.”
Alice laughed. It was an old catchphrase between them.
“I don’t know, Al,” Erin sighed, putting the empty beer glass down at her feet. “I mean, when last did you really, really find yourself attracted to someone? Overpoweringly, on first sight? So that you’d do anything, go anywhere, without another thought?”
Alice released smoke thoughtfully. “Oh, about twenty minutes ago, I suppose,” she said. “But it didn’t last. You?”
Erin smiled into the dark. “There was this boy … when I was thirteen.”
“First love? Really? You never told me. How long did that go on?”
Erin laughed. “Two laps, I think it was. At a gala.” She held out her hands before her, pale and steady against the dark. “Can you believe it, Al? I used to tremble .”
Erin was the first to leave the party. She walked barefoot across the cool, clipped grass, sandals in hand, away from the glow and the tipsy voices. A fork in the path led her, perhaps by accident, down towards the swimming pool.
She stood at one end, where the blond boy had stood, the bamboo faintly rustling between her and the distant pavilion. Underwater lights had transformed the pool into a block of green-blue luminescence, and wavelets on the surface caught flecks of white from a standing lamp. Shivering light.
Thirteen years old! She smiled as she lowered herself down on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the water. And all over some hyperactive kid with a rat-tail in his hair.
Her head jerked up at the deep liquid crash at the far end; a swell lapped over the edge and wet her skirt. At first she didn’t see anything, just a froth of bubbles. Then a pale figure slid out from under the turbulence, gliding submerged towards her. Something touched her foot and the figure did a perfect turn, streaking to the far end without coming up for air, then back again. When it arrived at her feet, rippling fingers reached out and touched the wall, and a boy burst through the surface of the water and stood, gasping. The pool was shallower than she’d thought, only waist deep. He vaulted up onto the edge, twisting to sit next to her.
A white smile, almost too big for his lean face; short hair so pale it seemed transparent, flattened against his head; pale eyes; and all tinted strangely by the underwater light. Young – seventeen or eighteen – but a head taller than Erin. He rubbed a hand across his scalp, making the hair stand up in little spikes and spraying her with droplets. A cool breath of cut grass and chlorine.
“Hi,” he said. Cocky. Grinning.
She returned his smile warily: “Hello.”
He pursed his lips, as if to restrain that knowing smile. She could see he was shivering, goosebumps on his thighs below the black swimsuit. “You’re cold,” she said.
“Flippin’ freezing.” He rubbed his arms with an exaggerated shudder and shuffled his thighs a little closer to hers. Gave her a jokey nudge.
She laughed. Impulsively, she put her arm around him and rubbed his back, amazed at the feel of such young, elastic flesh. He was beautiful, broad-shouldered with flat, hard muscles in his arms and chest and thighs. He leant in closer, putting his wet chin on her shoulder.
Erin stiffened.
It was a kind of kiss. She could feel his lips and nose and eyelashes, pressed against the side of her face. His clean breath. He felt very cool, and for a moment she wondered whether this really was a boy in her arms or something made from water, from grass. She almost turned to find his mouth, almost laid a hand on his thigh.
But she pulled back, lifted her feet from the pool and stood up, graceless. He watched her, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. A rapacious gesture. No longer boyish. His skin was evenly bathed in blue, but his eyes were even lighter, as if they weren’t eyes at all but small windows through which sunlit water shone.
“You
“Is that his name? The round guy? No … you know. I’m sure he’s perfectly nice.”
Alice laughed. It was an old catchphrase between them.
“I don’t know, Al,” Erin sighed, putting the empty beer glass down at her feet. “I mean, when last did you really, really find yourself attracted to someone? Overpoweringly, on first sight? So that you’d do anything, go anywhere, without another thought?”
Alice released smoke thoughtfully. “Oh, about twenty minutes ago, I suppose,” she said. “But it didn’t last. You?”
Erin smiled into the dark. “There was this boy … when I was thirteen.”
“First love? Really? You never told me. How long did that go on?”
Erin laughed. “Two laps, I think it was. At a gala.” She held out her hands before her, pale and steady against the dark. “Can you believe it, Al? I used to tremble .”
Erin was the first to leave the party. She walked barefoot across the cool, clipped grass, sandals in hand, away from the glow and the tipsy voices. A fork in the path led her, perhaps by accident, down towards the swimming pool.
She stood at one end, where the blond boy had stood, the bamboo faintly rustling between her and the distant pavilion. Underwater lights had transformed the pool into a block of green-blue luminescence, and wavelets on the surface caught flecks of white from a standing lamp. Shivering light.
Thirteen years old! She smiled as she lowered herself down on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the water. And all over some hyperactive kid with a rat-tail in his hair.
Her head jerked up at the deep liquid crash at the far end; a swell lapped over the edge and wet her skirt. At first she didn’t see anything, just a froth of bubbles. Then a pale figure slid out from under the turbulence, gliding submerged towards her. Something touched her foot and the figure did a perfect turn, streaking to the far end without coming up for air, then back again. When it arrived at her feet, rippling fingers reached out and touched the wall, and a boy burst through the surface of the water and stood, gasping. The pool was shallower than she’d thought, only waist deep. He vaulted up onto the edge, twisting to sit next to her.
A white smile, almost too big for his lean face; short hair so pale it seemed transparent, flattened against his head; pale eyes; and all tinted strangely by the underwater light. Young – seventeen or eighteen – but a head taller than Erin. He rubbed a hand across his scalp, making the hair stand up in little spikes and spraying her with droplets. A cool breath of cut grass and chlorine.
“Hi,” he said. Cocky. Grinning.
She returned his smile warily: “Hello.”
He pursed his lips, as if to restrain that knowing smile. She could see he was shivering, goosebumps on his thighs below the black swimsuit. “You’re cold,” she said.
“Flippin’ freezing.” He rubbed his arms with an exaggerated shudder and shuffled his thighs a little closer to hers. Gave her a jokey nudge.
She laughed. Impulsively, she put her arm around him and rubbed his back, amazed at the feel of such young, elastic flesh. He was beautiful, broad-shouldered with flat, hard muscles in his arms and chest and thighs. He leant in closer, putting his wet chin on her shoulder.
Erin stiffened.
It was a kind of kiss. She could feel his lips and nose and eyelashes, pressed against the side of her face. His clean breath. He felt very cool, and for a moment she wondered whether this really was a boy in her arms or something made from water, from grass. She almost turned to find his mouth, almost laid a hand on his thigh.
But she pulled back, lifted her feet from the pool and stood up, graceless. He watched her, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. A rapacious gesture. No longer boyish. His skin was evenly bathed in blue, but his eyes were even lighter, as if they weren’t eyes at all but small windows through which sunlit water shone.
“You
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