Melbourne. One a.m. Well, she’s always been a night owl.
All right CC,
Great news, one of the wallabies released last year is preggers! That means the colony is settled and starting to breed independently! Yay!
As for your new guy, he’s made the first move by friending you on Facebook. Probably wanted to oggle your photos, ha ha. Wait and see what happens and just be yourself.
Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a healthy bank balance and an excellent school record?!
Love ‘n’ hugs,
Sal
Just be yourself. Good advice. But easier said than done. And do I really believe it? It’s never got me anywhere fast before.
The sun is burning through a thin lace of cloud, the air suspended in autumn warmth. Reddish dust clouds around my feet as I pace the path. There are three tired-looking swings, their paint chipped and faded. A lonely roundabout creaks gently as I push it into a spin.
The evening feels like clay, sticky and orange.
I’ve done gym since I was a toddler. I remember my first somersault when I was four, the world turning as I spun in the air, only it seemed like I was still and things revolved around me. Seeing everything in a different way to other people made me feel special.
I unbutton my shirt and tie it around my waist. Underneath I’m wearing a vest. I draw my hair back into a barely contained blob and fasten it with an elastic band. I try to empty my mind.
I’m brimming with energy.
I pound the grass with my hands, twisting with force and determination, spotting my landings accurately. I do a one-handed cartwheel. I point my toes to an imaginary judge. I bound a few steps and lunge into a round off. Point toe. Grass. Left hand. Grass. Right hand. Grass. World. Upside down. Legs. Twist. Hands. Push. Spring. Both feet. Grass. World. Right way up. I sense a presence. My vest has ridden up exposing my oh-so-white midriff. I smooth it down with green-stained fingers.
I take a breath.
Then I miss one.
“You’re er …” he pauses, “dextrous.” Finn is sitting on the middle swing, grinning, eating fish and chips, the harsh, vinegary aroma clawing at my nostrils.
I shuffle on my feet like a loon, and skirt my tongue around my bottom lip.
Just be yourself
. I feel him take me in, look at me from top to toe, taking stock: nervous girl, unruly hair, vest strap off her shoulder, trouser leg tucked into her shoe… I shrink with embarrassment, then think,
He’s here, isn’t he? Talking to me. Bloody well make the most of it!
“It takes some skill. Not much…” I trail off.
“No, really, that’s some bendy stuff. You double-jointed or some freaky shit like that? You got jelly bones? You made of rubber, tiger?”
He called me tiger! All is not lost!
“Er, I, um… I used to do gym. Not any more.”
COME ON! God Almighty, say something entertaining!
“You should, you’re good.” He pulls the chains to his chest, then lets them spring back.
“Nah, I had to pick, gym or puberty. I was pro-puberty.” Did I really just say that? Did I say the word
puberty
? Am I going to spontaneously burst into song and start serenading him with Britney’s “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman”? OH NO.
I feel blood rushing to my cheeks. I cartwheel behind the swings. I see the school buildings in the distance, dainty like an architect’s model.
I run and do another spring.
Must outrun the gaping hole of embarrassment opening up beneath me.
Dive forward roll. Spring. My leg pulls and I feel a sharp twinge in my thigh. It’ll ache tomorrow. That’ll teach me to do gym without stretching first.
I gently lower myself to the grass and bring my knees to my chest, hugging them tight and feeling that hit of pain as I tense my leg muscles. The silence seems to linger like the warmth in the air.
“Uh … well, yeah, I’m all for that choice. Good decision. Want some?” he asks, offering me his greasy food.
“Ew, no thanks. I hate fish.”
He looks slightly embarrassed and I quite enjoy
All right CC,
Great news, one of the wallabies released last year is preggers! That means the colony is settled and starting to breed independently! Yay!
As for your new guy, he’s made the first move by friending you on Facebook. Probably wanted to oggle your photos, ha ha. Wait and see what happens and just be yourself.
Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a healthy bank balance and an excellent school record?!
Love ‘n’ hugs,
Sal
Just be yourself. Good advice. But easier said than done. And do I really believe it? It’s never got me anywhere fast before.
The sun is burning through a thin lace of cloud, the air suspended in autumn warmth. Reddish dust clouds around my feet as I pace the path. There are three tired-looking swings, their paint chipped and faded. A lonely roundabout creaks gently as I push it into a spin.
The evening feels like clay, sticky and orange.
I’ve done gym since I was a toddler. I remember my first somersault when I was four, the world turning as I spun in the air, only it seemed like I was still and things revolved around me. Seeing everything in a different way to other people made me feel special.
I unbutton my shirt and tie it around my waist. Underneath I’m wearing a vest. I draw my hair back into a barely contained blob and fasten it with an elastic band. I try to empty my mind.
I’m brimming with energy.
I pound the grass with my hands, twisting with force and determination, spotting my landings accurately. I do a one-handed cartwheel. I point my toes to an imaginary judge. I bound a few steps and lunge into a round off. Point toe. Grass. Left hand. Grass. Right hand. Grass. World. Upside down. Legs. Twist. Hands. Push. Spring. Both feet. Grass. World. Right way up. I sense a presence. My vest has ridden up exposing my oh-so-white midriff. I smooth it down with green-stained fingers.
I take a breath.
Then I miss one.
“You’re er …” he pauses, “dextrous.” Finn is sitting on the middle swing, grinning, eating fish and chips, the harsh, vinegary aroma clawing at my nostrils.
I shuffle on my feet like a loon, and skirt my tongue around my bottom lip.
Just be yourself
. I feel him take me in, look at me from top to toe, taking stock: nervous girl, unruly hair, vest strap off her shoulder, trouser leg tucked into her shoe… I shrink with embarrassment, then think,
He’s here, isn’t he? Talking to me. Bloody well make the most of it!
“It takes some skill. Not much…” I trail off.
“No, really, that’s some bendy stuff. You double-jointed or some freaky shit like that? You got jelly bones? You made of rubber, tiger?”
He called me tiger! All is not lost!
“Er, I, um… I used to do gym. Not any more.”
COME ON! God Almighty, say something entertaining!
“You should, you’re good.” He pulls the chains to his chest, then lets them spring back.
“Nah, I had to pick, gym or puberty. I was pro-puberty.” Did I really just say that? Did I say the word
puberty
? Am I going to spontaneously burst into song and start serenading him with Britney’s “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman”? OH NO.
I feel blood rushing to my cheeks. I cartwheel behind the swings. I see the school buildings in the distance, dainty like an architect’s model.
I run and do another spring.
Must outrun the gaping hole of embarrassment opening up beneath me.
Dive forward roll. Spring. My leg pulls and I feel a sharp twinge in my thigh. It’ll ache tomorrow. That’ll teach me to do gym without stretching first.
I gently lower myself to the grass and bring my knees to my chest, hugging them tight and feeling that hit of pain as I tense my leg muscles. The silence seems to linger like the warmth in the air.
“Uh … well, yeah, I’m all for that choice. Good decision. Want some?” he asks, offering me his greasy food.
“Ew, no thanks. I hate fish.”
He looks slightly embarrassed and I quite enjoy
Similar Books
