Angler’s Bay, 2035
The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits.
Matthew Arnold
High school was a foreign land
whose shores we swam from when
the bell rang. Angler’s Bay had two
high schools now. Our parents taught
in the other one. After school we ran
to Pixie’s Café, which filled the space
between school and tea. Pixie Chang
was a giant of a woman whose face,
said Dad, sank a thousand ships.
—Richard, said Mum, she can’t help it.
But I liked Pixie with her painted
toenails and short pink dresses,
the way she slapped food down
on our tables, half-sighing.
From school we raced to grab
the glass-topped table before
the boys or the younger kids:
red-blue neon fish darting
beneath our coke and chips.
Some days they got it, some days
we did.
Cello had a crush on Jack that year;
a lanky, loose-limbed boy too big
for his mother’s kitchen like most boys
his age. He was seventeen, but with
a quiet gait I mistook at first for a lack
of something other boys had, despite
their broken-voiced bullshit. Jack was in his final year, with a maturity
that drew us in, as he served up
Snow Cones, Choc Coke, chips.
And Cello did what Cello did best:
giggled behind her charcoal curls
while boys gawked at the breasts
that pressed against her uniform,
ripe as fruit and ready to eat.
Jack was pensive, not Cello’s type,
in his faded jeans and well-cut hair.
She usually went for cyber punks
with mirror tats and techno gear.
Finn took her cues from Cello
and more than a bit obsessed,
she flared her nostrils, cheeks
flushed pink, tugging the corner
of my school jacket.
—Northy, she said. Look, look!
There’s Jack! She could scream
like the girl on that L-Kida ad.
But Jack was fond of Finn.
He made her boats and party hats
from neatly folded serviettes.
Already Cello was on to it.
—Make me one, Jack?
But he just smiled.
And she smiled back.
—What time do you finish up, hey Jack?
Cello and my other friends
had liberties not permitted me.
I had Finn and Finn had me
every afternoon except Friday
when she did ballet in the city.
Then I was free till Dad brought pizza home for tea. Most Fridays
I lay in a delicious icloud of music,
Kindles and android apps with Rosie
the dog, just hanging around home.
And there I would have stayed
had Cello, on a hot November day,
not prised me from my cocoon.
—I’ll give you any lipstick you want,
and that pink bangle you like, she said.
Come on, North, please. Just to the beach.
If Mum finds out I’ve gone alone, I’m dead.
I plodded along the tensile wall
and down the steps onto the beach
with Cello tripping ahead of me.
And on I trudged until we reached
the pier where Finn and I were
once conceived. There we just sat
and mucked about. Maybe Cello
was lonely, I thought. After all,
she wasn’t bad company. I took
the cigarette she lit and choked
on smoke till footsteps swung
me round. And there was Jack
with two Choc Cokes and a bag
of donuts in his hand.
—Hey North, said Jack. I didn’t think…
and gestured vaguely with his hands
at gifts not meant for me. But Cello
was quick.
—That’s cool, she said. North’s gonna
wait here, aren’t you North? She’s got
homework, some beach project.
—You sure? said Jack.
—Uh-huh, I said. You go ahead.—Okay, he said.
—Well, come on then! Cello gave
his bum a flirty whack. They slunk
to the dunes without looking back.
I sat down on the wooden pier,
my eyes brimful with unspilt tears.
This was where my mum and dad
first kissed, and I tried hard not
to imagine this. But the idea clung
like barnacles. Below me, waves
slapped mildly against old pylons.
A ship moved across the horizon,
slowly. I could have gone home
or just pissed off but I was a faithful
kind of kid. Besides, I was half in love
with Jack. It was just that I didn’t
know it yet.
Next Friday after school Cello said
—North, come to the beach, will you?
C’mon, please? I really need you to cover for me.
She stood silhouetted in the front door
frame, all tendrilled hair and beads.
—Cello…
—But you have to. Please?
—Shit, I dunno…
I was sick of Cello and her perfect skin,
the way I made a habit of fitting in
with whatever she was doing.
But Jack’s face had been haunting me.
The night before I’d dreamt of him
kissing me at some weird party.
I read my ibook for company
and waited on the pier.
—Guess what? said Cello next day
at school, though she rarely talked
to me here at all. Jack gave me
a love bite. See? Right here.
I saw the plum-coloured bruise
and thought of Jack’s mouth resting
there, his cheek on Cello’s pubic hair;
dense as a forest, dark and thick.
But already her crush was growing thin.
—Anyway, she sighed, I’m tired of him.
When next Friday at last arrived,
I trudged with Cello to the beach
again, now knowing exactly why
I went. I wondered if Cello guessed
or cared. Who knows how that cherub
brain of hers worked. But just then
her mum pulled up by the curb
as we traipsed down The Boulevard.
—Cello! she called, Quick, quick. Jump in.
We’re off to Grandma’s. She fell again.
Sorry North, it’s an emergency.
Cello scuffed one pink and pretty sneaker
on the path. Beyond, the turquoise sea.
—Can’t I stay here?
—Cello Green, Jo said. Get in the car.
And Cello did.
So I went down to the beach alone
and waited on the wooden pier
with a couple of retired fishermen
until Jack appeared with his paper bag
and tubes of drink.
—No Cello? he said, and I explained.
But we soon got on to other things
like moon kids, God and boat building.
Jack built a boat but it sank, he said.
By the time next Friday came around
Cello was hanging with a bunch of girls
who’d finished school the year before.
Somehow I didn’t feel the need
to tell her Jack and I still met.
He’d kissed me by then. His tongue
was soft and sweet. Before that
I’d never kissed anyone. Inside
I felt a salty heat rise up. Slowly
the friendship grew.