26
‘Y OU’RE sooo out of control, bitch!’ Isabel Scuzzbucket and some random girl pick their way across the rocks.
‘Hey, guys!’ Isabel moves her way around the Neanderthals, air kissing some, hugging others.
As Paul pulls himself up and over the cliff, she takes off her dress and arches her body against the sun, making sure everyone has a chance at a good look at her.
Her bathers are pulled up too high and she giggles as she puts her pointer finger between the bikini and her butt, flicking it back to where it should be.
‘Hey, Paulie!’ She runs her hand down his arm. ‘Ooh, goosebumps!’
Ignoring her, Paul steps across the rocks to stand behind me. His arms come around me, crossed against my chest like the safety barrier on a rollercoaster and he plants a gentle kiss on my cheek.
‘No, stop!’ Tom flings Isabel’s friend over his shoulder, full Neanderthal style, her shriek the aural equivalent of stepping on Lego with a bare foot.
‘Aww, they’re such a cute couple,’ purrs Isabel. She drapes her arm across Cavey’s shoulders and points at Tom and her friend. ‘Aren’t they just adorable, Cavey?’
‘So adorable,’ he says in a monotone, his hand sliding down to rest on her backside.
‘Oh, shit, look who’s coming,’ says Ant.
A convoy of lifeguards have deserted their post and are striding across the beach towards the rocks.
‘They think they’re cops now? Stuff that!’ One of the Neanderthals runs and jumps off the cliff, shouting obscenities all the way down.
‘This area is off limits.’ A lifey steps across a rockpool.
‘Yeah, what are you going to do about it?’ says Cavey as he, Paul and Tom walk towards them, arms crossed.
With the boys distracted, Isabel takes the chance to be her pleasant self. ‘What are you doing here, Kitty Cat?’ She looks at me over her sunglasses, head tilted.
‘I live here.’
‘You don’t normally slum it with us locals though, do you? Where’s all your rich friends? Have they dumped you?’
‘Oh, that’s so sweet. You’re concerned about me!’ I say, putting a hand to my chest. ‘But it’s quite pathetic. How much real estate am I taking up in your brain? You never cross my mind.’
‘Why don’t you just go have sex with a book?’ she snarls, all the vomit-inducing sweetness gone.
‘Is that really the best you’ve got?’
‘You’re just jealous!’ She’s shouting now.
‘Of you? Hilarious! Why would I be jealous? What do you think you have that I could ever want in a gazillion years?’
‘Your “boyfriend” is happy with what I’ve got.’ She puts her hands on her hips.
‘Whatever.’ I grab my shorts. ‘I’m so not interested in sharing any more oxygen with you.’
‘You’re full of shit,’ Paul says, his voice low.
I spin, my mouth dry. He’s staring at Isabel, his glasses pushed up onto his head. Behind him, Cavey and Tom are arguing with the lifeys, all of them throwing their arms around, chests puffed like a lion standoff in the savannah. I walk past them towards the beach. Thongs slap behind me.
‘Man, that’s not going to end well,’ says Ant as he saddles up beside me. ‘Cavey would die before backing down to those dicks.’
‘You think?’
‘Meanwhile, you were awesome. I can’t stand that skank.’
‘Yeah, I can tell you guys don’t like her,’ I say, ‘that’s why you let her hang off you and you take turns giving her love bites. And that’s not a judgement on her; I’m not into slut shaming. That’s on you guys for hanging out with someone who is just a vile human.’
‘Not me; I’m a good boy. Ask my Nonna. You okay, though?’
‘I’m fine. I’ve been dealing with that loser all my life.
I can’t believe we were ever friends. This time next year I’ll have forgotten she even exists, and she’ll still be getting treatment for the disgusting disease that one of you guys give her.
And boom, just like that, here I go slut shaming.
The patriarchy’s a hard taskmaster, hey Ant. ’
‘The patriarchy’s the actual worst,’ says Ant. ‘It does my freakin’ head in.’
We crack up laughing and the animosity and tension that had been building up inside me dissipates.
‘Here comes Paulie, wait up,’ says Ant.
Paul jogs up to us and takes my hand.
‘You okay?’
‘Again? I’ve already been over this with Ant. I’m fine. F-I-N-E.’
‘We’re back to spelling things out for the dumb tradie, are we? That’s a good sign.’ He flings an arm across my shoulder. ‘Let’s go back to yours. We’ll see you later, Scampo.’
‘Yeah, okay, see you, Cat. See you, Paulie.’ He disappears into the sand dunes.
‘Quick swim?’ I ask. We dump our stuff and swim out past kids in their floaties.
‘Come here.’ He pulls me against him. Underwater, my legs wrap around his waist, and he bobs in the water, easily taking both our weight, steady and anchored.
‘We should stay like this all the time.’
‘That sounds like a plan,’ he says. ‘I might drown, but it’d be worth it.’
I lay my head on his shoulder, my cheek against his collarbone, looking at the sand dunes rising above the beach like skyscrapers.
Little kids clamour up on all fours, then once at the top, they sprint down, their bodies unable to match gravity as they lose control and tumble to the bottom, often with a mouthful of sand, their eyes grit-filled and rubbed raw.
A couple of fishing boats dot across the horizon line but out this far, we’re all alone.
Paul’s skin is cold beneath mine and so smooth it should be illegal.
I run my hand across his chest from shoulder to shoulder, then, my palm flat, my thumb follows the trail of hair from the base of his throat to the top of his abs. He grabs my hand.
‘Do you want me to drown?’
‘You could think of worse places to die.’ I nod towards the distant outlines of ancient volcanoes. ‘It’s so beautiful here. Look – you can see where South America ripped away from Australia.’
‘Gondwanaland.’ Paul laughs when I gape at him. ‘Told you I’m not just a dumb tradie.’
‘I never said you were,’ I say. ‘First MacBeth, now this. I just didn’t think you’d be a geography nerd.’
‘I’m no nerd,’ he says, ‘but I liked it. It was cool, learning about how the cliffs and channels make waves.’
‘Me too,’ I say. ‘I thought about keeping it, but preferences, and all that.’
‘Didn’t you want something that’s just for fun, not just about your entrance score?’
‘Isn’t that your job?’ I tickle under his chin.
He grabs my waist and tosses me. I scream, taking in a mouthful of ocean water. I emerge laughing and swim back to him, pushing my hair back off my face. We turn back to the shore, me swimming, Paul trudging through the water.
‘Hey, Paul,’ I say, ‘what’s with Isabel?’
‘Absolutely nothing,’ he says. ‘She’s full of shit.’ I feel the sand under my feet as he takes my hand.