Waves

 

 

The grass hasn’t been mowed in a while. The summer’s been a long one, a dry one, and you can see it in the shiny bronzeness of the sea of lawn that makes up the Domain. The man with the big ride-on mower hasn’t been out to put the sprinklers up either. I know this has something to do with the big fires the trains started, the ones that made the loud sirens sound out through the village and the farmers come back dusty and angry-looking and muttering into their beers.

 

I don’t mind it though. From where I stand I see the whole Domain, with its dying Beatles-haircut grass, as a shimmery bit of gold like the flake I have in a little vial in the drawer of my beside table that I got when I went to Shantytown last year with my class. The wind blows and I feel it on my hair and I feel it ruffle my pink party dress, tickling my legs with the lacy bits. It feels nice. I wait for it and sure enough, seconds later the same bit of wind sweeps across the Domain and makes the grass into a big Mexican wave like the ones I see on TV when the cricket’s on. I like the cricket.

 

The grass looks so inviting when it waves like that, like a big sea that I should be able to dive into. I know I can’t. Instead I do a walkover. I’m so proud that finally I can do a walkover. I only managed it yesterday. Before that I could only go halfway, and I’d end up sinking to the ground and hurting my arms. But then I did it faster, with more of a walk-up, and it just happened. It’s the best feeling ever! I feel like I could fly if I only wanted to enough. Just fly out over the Domain, caught on the breeze like the grass is.

 

I do another walkover, and then I do a handstand. From the handstand, I lower myself onto my head, and then slowly down my neck and my back until I’m properly lying on the grass. I know there are little bugs in the grass and that I’ll come out in itchy little spots later. It feels so nice that I don’t care about that. The sky is blue above me and the sun is so yellow. It’s got a ring around it, like an egg in a poaching pan. You’re not supposed to look directly at the sun, but I never saw the big deal. It’s kind of nice, the way it flickers in and out of focus like it does. It feels like a secret we share.

 

I lay my cheek on my shoulder and look at my outstretched arm. There’s a sandfly ferreting around the freckles. Suddenly I feel crawly, and it occurs to me that there might be spiders in the grass. I jump up and brush the dry crumbly grass off, shaking it out of the puffy sleeves. I love my dress.

 

I don’t want to get sunburnt so it’s time to go home. I have a dollar left from my pocket money and it’s sitting in my new coin purse I got for my birthday. It’s purple and it smells so good and I love the shiny little clasp and the way it clicks together. I’ll take my dollar and go to the pool. It’s so hot that the cold water will feel so good. Maybe today I’ll try and swim my two lengths so I’ll be allowed to go in the deep end. I think I can do it now. After my walkover I think I can do anything.

 

I walk across the Domain on a diagonal to go the shortest way. It means I miss out on going by the swings but I can go past the pool that way. I want to see who’s there already. It means I get home quicker too. I walk faster, do a little skip and then a walkover and then the handstand thing again, but I turn it into a roly-poly this time, and jump up with my hands in the air for the finish just like Nadia Comaneche. I want to be just like Nadia.

 

I’m at the pool gate now, but something’s wrong. The sign is on the gate saying it’s closed. Why is it closed? The sun is really bright but the gate is always in shade, because the hedges that fence it always need trimming, especially on the top. The shade makes the sign look ominous, a yellowy-white board with big red letters. I can’t understand it. And there’s plastic tape over the gate too. It says ‘Police – Keep Out’ in orange letters on a white background. In the movies it’s always a different colour, but I can’t remember what.

 

Suddenly I’m afraid. A feeling of unease washes over me like the breeze did before. It’s like there’s something I should be remembering, something that’s just a little bit out of reach, like when you have a word on the tip of your tongue but you can’t quite spit it out and then later it just comes to you, when you least expect it. What’s happened at the pool to make it closed, to make it be surrounded by that tape?

 

I see Mrs Goulter with her knobbly cane coming across the bridge. She’s my Maths teacher and I don’t like her. She smacks her nicotine chewing gum so loudly, and she says ‘stook’ instead of ‘stuck’ and last year she called me stupid because I can never remember seven times eight. I know all the others but that one always gets me. I remember I cried and it was so embarrassing. I tried so hard not to but the corners of my mouth kept slipping down and I couldn’t help it.

 

Mrs Goulter has tears in her eyes and she comes to stand beside me and peer through the gate. She doesn’t say hello or ruffle my hair in that horrible way she usually does and I wonder what I’ve done wrong this time. I’m scared of her so for a minute I don’t say hello either. I just stand there and try not to look at her. But I really want to remember why the pool is shut so eventually I say her name to make her look at me. She pretends she can’t hear me. I must have done something really bad this time, but I can’t remember what. I say it again, louder. Still she ignores me.

 

I’m in a huff now so I walk away. I don’t go home though. Instead I go to the swings after all. No point in going home if the pool is closed anyway. Maybe later I’ll go to the shop and spend my dollar there instead. They have these new ‘baby doll pops’ that are all covered in little crystals of sugar. There’s four in a pack and they’re all different colours.

 

My friend Josaine is at the swings, but she’s not swinging, she’s just sitting there on her swing with her head resting on the chain. I run over and flop down next to her. She doesn’t look up at me and I wonder if she’s mad at me too. I ask her why the pool is closed. She doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t look at me. I’m mad now, and I call her a b***h. Still she doesn’t look! Even though I called her a swear word!

 

I reach over to push her. I’m so angry I want to get in a fight. But it’s so weird. My hand doesn’t reach her, even though I’m close enough that it should. I move closer and try again. But I can’t touch her. She’s still always just that little bit too far away. And she’s still not looking at me. Now I’m properly scared, and I can feel the corners of my mouth curling down. I don’t want to cry but I’m feeling very alone and so frightened.

 

Josaine looks up and I feel hopeful for a second, but she’s not looking at me, she’s looking at her mum waving from the car park . Josaine gets up and walks away from me. I think about running after her but I don’t have the guts and I think it wouldn’t matter anyway. She gets in her car, in the front seat ‘cause she’s the oldest, and they drive away.

 

I sit in my swing and watch the shadows getting longer. The wind is cooler now and it feels nice on my pink arms with all the freckles that have come out darker now. The lower temperature revives me and I feel like running. So I get up and run, run like the wind, feeling like I could fly, if I wanted to, fly out over the Domain and maybe over the houses, fly like a bird and soar above everything.

 

I stop running when I get to the edge of the domain and I do a walkover. I can, now; I finally did it just yesterday. Josaine is going to be so jealous.