Page 17 of Summer, in Between
Suddenly, I’m covered in sand as Paul leaps to his feet.He has Steve by the neck of his t-shirt, his feet lifted off the ground.
‘Fuck off, mate,’ he says, quietly.
‘The Stuck-Up Bitch just fucking punched me!’Steve kicks in the air, trying to see past Paul.‘You’re dead, bitch.’
‘Shut the fuck up.’Paul shakes him by the shirt.
Ant moves across the sand, his back to me.There’s a high-pitched squeal.Isabel’s lying sprawled in the sand with another girl, laughing, kicking the sand with their heels, their underpants flashing.
‘You better watch your back, bitch,’ Steve yells at me over Paul’s shoulder.
‘Off you fuck, mate,’ Paul says.‘You stay away from her, you hear me?’He shakes him again, then shoves him away.Steve stumbles from the release, looking around, almost pleadingly, but the party has continued as if nothing had happened.Someone across the Gap sings along out of tune to the music and a group of people join in, arms around each other.
‘Don’t make me tell you again.’Paul sits back beside me, brushing sand off my shoulder then wrapping his arm around me.‘Mate, don’t even look at her.You see her, you walk the other way, you hear me?’
Steve turns and crosses the beach, climbing the stairs up the cliff face.
‘You okay?’Paul whispers into my ear.‘You’re shaking.’
‘I’m fine.’I pull away and he drops his arm.‘Just embarrassed.My Italian temper.He caught me off guard.’A trickle of sweat moves down my spine and my teeth are chattering.I zip Paul’s jumper up to my chin.
‘Don’t worry about that dickhead,’ says Ant.‘He knows better than to cross Paulie.’
‘What’s “Paulie” got to do with it.He should know better than to cross me.Non ti preoccupare.’I try to smile to bring down the tension, but it comes out as a grimace, my face burning all the way through to my ears.What a goddamn scene!Although, I don’t know how much of a scene it was.I nearly get bashed by a loser who would likely stab me with a dirty syringe and a group of girls danced right through the whole thing, completely oblivious to what was going on over at our side of the bonfire.
‘Esattamente.’Ant gives me a wink.
‘Don’t worry about Steve,’ says Paul.‘He won’t go near you.Ant, grab us another drink, hey?Cat?’
‘No, thanks.’I shrink a little into myself, grateful for the security of Paul’s jumper.
‘Hey, Paulie, how’s your new board?’Paul turns to one of the Neanderthals.Thankfully Ant joins in, asking inane questions about rails and outlines and about travelling the world, surfing every break they came across.Across the circle, Isabel and her friend lean against each other, legs twisted, their faces lit by the fire.Their gazes lock onto me and Paul.Her friend cups her hand over her mouth, whispering into Isabel’s ear.Ugly laughter fills the cove.Isabel totters to her feet, heels sinking into the sand, and lurches around the fire.
‘You’re here!’she yells and drops into Paul’s lap, her back to me, her hair whipping me in the face.
‘What the fuck?’He rears back, but she clings to him, her arms around his neck.
‘We need to talk,’ she slurs.
‘Yeah, nah we don’t,’ he says, and stands, dislodging her into the sand in front of us.
The wind shifts, blowing smoke into my face.My eyes sting and fill with protective tears.
‘I’m just going to go chat to those girls over there,’ I say to Ant, coughing through the smoke.
‘Cat, wait—’ Paul puts his hand on my arm.
‘It’s all good,’ I say and make my way to a group of people in the shadows of the cliff.Looking over my shoulder, Paul’s standing side-on, talking to someone, so I move behind the randoms under the cliff, following its curve to the edge of the Gap.I’m not game to take on the bush path alone in the dark, especially if Steve is hanging around, so I walk back along the beach.The moon lights up the sand and the tide’s retreating.The clouds have parted long enough for the waves and the sand to reflect off the moon, giving me light to see my way.
Between the top of the beach stairs and the clubhouse the path curves around a bend, enclosed on each side by the dense tea trees.I can barely see, and with the ocean roaring behind me I can’t hear a thing.The path is a faint silver line.I sprint, only four or five seconds until I’m in the openness of the streets, but it feels so, so much longer.
It’s weird, but sometimes the streets feel safer here in the dead of winter when there’s no one around.It seems like every second house was having a party tonight.At one house I catch the attention of a group of losers who whistle and yell at me.‘Hey, babe, where you going?Come have a drink?Don’t be shy, babe!’I keep walking, eyes straight ahead, my ears tuned to their laughter, waiting to hear footsteps behind me, ready to bolt.As I move into shadows past the streetlights, they give up on me as quickly as they’d noticed me.
Mum and Dad are sitting in the dark watching TV when I get home.It’s just after eleven.Dad has an empty wine glass beside him, a faint tinge of pink around the rim.They startle as I open the sliding door, Mum spilling the water from the glass she’s cradling.
‘You’re early,’ she says.‘Where’s Paul?’
‘At the party.’
