by Suzanne Leal
Privately, Terry thinks a new pair of glasses is exactly what Bridie needs. The ones she’s got are already too small for her and the frames are too heavy for her little face: mottled blue plastic when she could have a thin metal frame instead. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d get her a new pair himself. But he knows Vonnie: it wouldn’t matter if she were down to her last dollar, she still wouldn’t be accepting anything from anyone. It’d make a world of difference to Bridie, though.
‘Tell you what, Bridie, how about this? Just before you start your race, you give me your glasses. I’ll keep them for you until you’ve finished the race. What do you think?’
When she still looks unconvinced, Terry pats the back pocket of his board shorts. ‘I’ll put them straight in here—they’ll be safe as houses.’
He can see she’s still uncertain so he gives it another try. ‘Come on, just your age race,’ he says, and he’s pleased when she stands up and follows him over to the marshalling area.
Helen is dividing the eleven-year-old girls into house groups. Jade has made it to the front of the line and is basking in the sun. When she sees Terry, she gives him a toss of her head and a lazy smile. Any older, and she’d be making him turn bright red with that sort of look.
Behind her, Elsie is sitting up cross-legged like she’s the keenest kid in the kindy class. He can just about see her white skin burning up in the sun.
As Bridie slips into line, she hands her glasses to Terry and takes off her shorts. She keeps a T-shirt over her swimming costume.
‘It’ll weigh you down,’ he warns her, but she still won’t take it off.
They are all in the same heat: Bridie on the inside lane, Jade in lane four and Elsie beside her in lane five. Only Hayley Timms from Year 5 is standing on the blocks; the rest of them are by the edge of the pool, arms reaching up to meet above their heads, except for Jade, who’s got a hand on her hip.
When it comes, the explosion of the starting gun makes him jump a mile.
As expected, Hayley takes the lead from the get-go. The girl’s a machine. National titles, here we come. Jade, Elsie and Bridie, on the other hand, well, you’d be hard pressed to say any of them were even aiming for the other end of the pool. Jade might be in with a chance if she’d tied her hair back instead of leaving it out, mermaid-style, so that it’s a mess of floating blonde covering her eyes. Despite that, she’s making progress until her bikini top comes undone and she has to stop mid-pool to try to keep it around her. Terry laughs. There’s a reason why one-piece racer backs are recommended for the girls.
Not that they’re helping Elsie, who’s ploughing down the lane with all the agility of a submerged truck. Even after her pit stop, Jade’s still in front of her.
But this year, Bridie is the favourite for last place. And just as he predicted, the T-shirt isn’t doing her any favours. He watches as it balloons up in front of her until somehow it works its way over her head, her arms flailing around until, right in front of him, she starts to sink.
At first, he doesn’t register what’s happening. Once he does, it takes him less than a second to peel off his own T-shirt and jump into the water. His aim is good and he lands just in front of her.
Her head is underwater now and, putting his arms around her waist, he pulls her up to him so that her face is against his shoulder and her body flat against his. Mid-pool, the water is not as deep as he had thought: over Bridie’s head, but just level with his nipples. The little girl coughs into his neck but she doesn’t bring up any water; instead she just pants. Her ribs are bony against his chest, her heart is beating fast, too fast, and her breathing is quick and shallow. Pulling her little body tight against him, he murmurs softly to her and she nestles her face into the crook of his neck. When he feels her shivering, he lifts her up onto the side of the pool and, still in the water himself, calls out for a towel.
Immediately, Laurie is beside them, but it’s Tania who brings the towel and wraps it around the girl. Laurie turns to Tania. ‘Can I leave you to look after her?’
Tania looks surprised, but when she starts to answer, Terry cuts in over her. ‘It’s fine, Laurie, I’ll take care of her.’
Laurie shakes her head. On her face is an expression he can’t quite interpret. Something between disapproval and disgust. ‘I think it would be better for a female teacher to deal with this.’
‘I’m her classroom teacher,’ he says, ‘so it would make sense for me to deal with it.’
‘And I’m the principal,’ Laurie replies, her voice curt, ‘and I’ve asked Tania to take over.’
There’s a lot he could say back to that. He could begin with the obvious—that she’s only the acting principal not the actual principal—and move on from there. He could keep his voice low or he could raise it for emphasis. And he could say this: I’ve been here a lot longer than you have, lady, and I’m telling you that I’m her goddamn teacher and I’ll decide how to look after her and I won’t be taking any advice from someone who probably doesn’t even know the kid’s name.
But little Bridie’s still shivering and someone’s going to have to get her dressed and tell her to warm herself in the sunshine. Having an argument with Laurie Mathews isn’t going to speed things up.
So he flicks Tania a disgruntled smile and shrugs his shoulders. ‘She’s all yours.’
He waits in the pool until they have all gone. Only then does he pull himself up and out. He hears the crack as he sits down on the edge of the pool. For a moment, it doesn’t register. Then he remembers. ‘Goddamn it,’ he says to himself, ‘the glasses.’
Cursing himself, he fishes them out of his pocket. To his surprise, the lenses are fine, but one of the arms has completely snapped off. ‘Bloody hell,’ he whispers. Bridie’ll be beside herself when she sees them. Absolutely beside herself.
It’s cold out of the water, colder than he would have thought. He’ll need a towel to dry himself off. And he’s looking in his bag for it when he feels a stinging slap on his back. He turns around in surprise. Behind him, Kurt and his two deputies, Cody and Ethan, are laughing like madmen.
He fixes his attention on Kurt. ‘Was that you?’ It was a hard bloody slap and he can still feel it.
‘It wasn’t that bad, Mr P,’ says Kurt. ‘Just wanted to get your attention, that’s all.’
‘Well, you’ve got it now.’
‘So, Mr P,’ he says, ‘did you save Bridie from drowning?’
Terry shakes his head. ‘I don’t think she would have drowned.’
‘But she might’ve, Mr P. I mean, if she just kept on sinking and she couldn’t kick her way up again or something. Then she would’ve drowned for sure.’ Behind him, Cody and Ethan are nodding furiously. ‘Because of her T-shirt,’ he says.
Terry shades his forehead with a hand to block out the sun. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because it was too big. It was like a dress or something, it was that big on her. It could have gone right over her head and suffocated her. Asphyxiation. That’s what it would have been.’
Terry raises an eyebrow. He’d forgotten about Kurt’s particular expertise: he’s an expert on techniques causing death. Asphyxiation, strangulation, suffocation, dehydration. You name it, he’s be able to tell you about it. Just don’t ask him to spell it.
‘What’s asphyxiation?’ Cody pipes up.
Kurt makes a choking sound. ‘Like when you can’t breathe anymore, and if it keeps on happening, you choke and die.’
Cody nods with the air of someone who knows all about it. ‘Like what happened yesterday, when I was at your house?’
Terry glances at Kurt, who, quick as a flash, starts shaking his head. ‘It wasn’t me, sir.’
Cody is with him on that. ‘It wasn’t even Kurt, Mr P. It was his brother Jordan. He put his arm on my throat, like really hard, and I couldn’t even breathe at all.’
Kurt’s eyes are wide. ‘That’s true, Mr P, I swear to God. My brother, he was pressing down so hard Cody started mak
ing this noise like he was going to die so I rammed into Jordan so he’d get off him.’
‘What do you mean, you rammed him?’
‘You know, sir, rammed him. Like rammed right at him.’ To show him, Kurt bends over so that his head is level with his backside, and then, his eyes on the floor, arms pinned to his side—so that they, too, are horizontal—he runs hard up the length of the pool. He looks like a bull, all nuggetty shoulders and strong little thighs. When he runs back again, his face is flushed and his eyes are sparkling. ‘That’s what I did, Mr P. I deadset rammed him.’
Cody’s nodding harder now, so hard Terry thinks his head might spring off. ‘True as, Mr P,’ he says. ‘True as, he rammed him just like that.’
‘So what did Jordan do?’
Cody opens his mouth to answer but, before he does, flicks his eyes across to Kurt, who gives him the go-ahead with the inclination of his head. ‘Well, Mr P, when Kurt rammed into him, suddenly Jordan started, like, yelling and that. And then he turned around and lifted his arm up so it wasn’t pressing on my throat anymore and that’s when I run.’
Kurt is standing up straight, listening hard, head to the side in case he needs to correct anything. ‘I run too, Mr P. I run so friggin’ fast I thought I was going to have a heartache.’
‘’Cause of Jordan,’ Cody chips in. ‘’Cause we thought he’d be after us.’
Terry obliges with the question they’re both itching to be asked. ‘So, did he get you?’
‘Nup, sir, he couldn’t catch us, we were that quick,’ Kurt says.
Cody’s back to his furious nodding. ‘And besides, he doesn’t know where our headquarters are and that’s where we hid out.’
‘Your headquarters?’ Terry tries to keep his face straight.
‘Yeah, Mr P, you should see it. It’s sick, we discovered it ourselves, when we were exploring and then we found it, sir, it’s near the—’ He pulls up short because, sure enough, Kurt is boring a finger into his back.
Terry doesn’t pursue the location of the headquarters. Instead, he reaches over to give Ethan a light punch on the shoulder. ‘You up soon?’
As if on cue, Laurie’s voice trickles out through the megaphone. ‘First call for eleven-year-old boys’ freestyle. To the marshalling area, please. Eleven-year-old boys’ freestyle.’
Ethan’s off before she’s finished the announcement, feet flapping on the concrete as he rushes to the top end of the pool. Kurt and Cody don’t move. Terry points to the marshalling area. ‘That’s you, boys. Fifty metres. Freestyle. Now.’
Kurt shakes his head and affects an expression of disappointment. ‘Can’t, sir.’
Terry smiles in anticipation. ‘That’s bad news, Kurt. Why not?’
‘It’s me leg, sir. Think I’ve pulled a muscle or something.’
Terry raises an eyebrow. ‘What, just now?’
‘Nuh, day before yesterday, sir.’ But he turns red when he realises his mistake.
‘Seems to be okay now, though, mate. Your ramming run was perfect.’
Kurt gives him a wry smile. It’s one of the things Terry likes about him. He’ll dish out the tall tales but he’s happy to admit it when he’s been caught out.
‘Both of you. Now.’ He’s not even going to bother with the lucky dip bribe. Not now he’s got Kurt anyway. Because if he’s got Kurt, he’ll have Cody too.
And sure enough, they both turn and follow Ethan up the concrete to the marshalling area.
Within minutes, the three of them are lined up behind the starting blocks, together with another four from Year 5. Of the seven, Ethan is the only one wearing a cap. He’s stretched out since last year, Terry thinks, stretched right out. And even though his shoulders have started to fill out, he’s still a bony little thing. But it’s his feet that are the giveaway to the man he’ll grow into: long and wide. He’ll be six foot by the time he’s fifteen. That’s Terry’s call.
‘On your marks.’ Laurie’s voice, high and thin, doesn’t project well. Ethan and Johnny Spiros step up to the starting blocks. The rest of them stand to the side, toes just over the edge of the pool.
Crouched on the blocks, Ethan could be at the Olympics: goggles on, cap slick over his head, arms slightly in front of him, his whole body still and taut, ready to spring.
Then Laurie clears her throat. ‘Sorry,’ she says.
Ethan keeps in position, swivelling his head only slightly to the left to try to work out what’s happened.
‘Let’s start again,’ says Laurie.
Puzzled now, Ethan looks around at the rest of the competitors before he straightens up and waits for the next instruction. But suddenly, and before he is ready, Laurie calls for them, in rapid succession, to get on their marks and get set before she abruptly fires the gun.
In the confusion, Ethan dives badly and for the first ten metres, he’s trailing Cody, which is a first. Beside him, Cody’s like a little wind-up toy, arms fighting through the water, legs kicking madly. On the other side, Kurt is taking his time; his stroke’s good but his breathing’s atrocious. But at least he’ll make it to the end. By the twenty-metre mark, Ethan has taken the lead, and with ten metres to go, the rest of the field are way back, even Johnny Spiros, who might well have thought himself in with a chance.
For Terry, it’s a joy just to watch Ethan go—everything is in sync: arms, legs, head to the right, head to the left, and again and again. As soon as he finishes, he tilts his head up for his time, but it’s not club racing and there’s no clock in front of him, so instead he does a half-turn to lean his back up against the tiled wall of the pool while he waits for Cody and Kurt to come in. They’re just about neck and neck, but as usual, Kurt manages to get the edge on Cody. Which is just as well, because as long as Kurt’s ahead of Cody, everything’s all right.
Terry strolls down to the end of the pool to congratulate the lot of them. But especially Ethan.
Crouching down by the edge of the pool, Terry extends an arm to help Ethan out. ‘Only fifty metres, sir,’ he says. ‘I can probably get myself out.’
Terry shrugs. ‘My motto, Ethan, is that you should always take a leg up when it’s offered because it might not happen again.’
That makes Ethan smile. ‘Got a bad start,’ he says, relenting, as Terry pulls him out of the water.
‘Made up for it, though, didn’t you, boy? That’s the main thing. That you made up for it.’
Cody is resting his arms on the edge of the pool. ‘How about me, Mr P?’ he pipes up. ‘You going to give me a leg up too?’
With a smile, Terry pulls him up and out of the pool. He’s a feather compared to Ethan and his slight body is trembling with the cold. ‘Not much of you, is there, mate?’
Teeth chattering, Cody doesn’t answer, he just opens up his palm to show Terry a green plastic disc. ‘I got fourth, but.’
Kurt is already out of the pool, water dripping onto shoulders that have halfback written all over them. He even walks like a league player: shoulders first, swinging left and right, his neck already thickening into place. A bulldog, that’s what he is, a hazel-eyed bulldog.
He finds Bridie sitting back in the grandstand. The first time he scans the rows, he misses her. The second time around he spots her bang in the middle of the stand, blinking myopically because she can barely see a thing, poor little love. Funny, though, how different she looks without her glasses; free of the milk-bottle lenses, she’s got pretty eyes. And her face is heart-shaped, which is something else he hadn’t noticed before. He’d never given it a shape, just skinny. Not that heart-shaped does you a whole lot of good if you can’t see a thing in front of you.
‘Bridie,’ he calls out as he waves his hand towards her. She looks in the direction of his voice but her face stays blank. ‘Bridie,’ he calls again, then a third time, until she’s got him.
He climbs up the stairs to her. ‘Well, that’s a race I won’t be forgetting in a hurry.’
He says it as a joke, but when she drops her head in emba
rrassment, he kicks himself for saying anything at all.
Keeping her head down, she mumbles something to him.
He puts a hand on her knee. ‘What was that, love?’ he says gently.
‘Can I have my glasses?’ The question makes his stomach turn even though he’s got his answer ready.
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ve got some good news and I’ve got some bad news.’
She raises her head.
‘So, the bad news is that I accidentally broke your glasses.’ When her face falls, he hurries on. ‘The good news is that straight after school, you and me, we’re going to go and get you another pair.’
If the good news has registered at all, it’s not obvious. Her face is white and drawn. ‘Nan’s going to kill me,’ she whispers.
In his rush to reassure her, his words become clumsy. ‘I mean it, Bridie. Today. We’ll go today. Straight after school. Before you go home. We’ll get it all sorted.’
She’s not appeased. ‘But what am I going to say to Nan?’ Her eyes have filled now and he’s scared stiff she’s going to cry.
‘Nothing, Bridie. You won’t have to say anything. I’ll do everything.’ Placing a hand on each of her arms, he swivels her around so they are face to face. ‘I promise, Bridie.’
It’s mayhem trying to get them onto the buses and back to school in time for pick-up. Especially when eighty percent of them are hyped up on jelly pythons from the pool kiosk.
Once they’re all aboard, Helen and Tania take charge of the school roll so he can finally sit down. He’s already thrown his bag on the front window seat to bags it and now he can properly claim it. A bit of quiet, that’s what he needs: eyes out the window, watching the world go by. At least until there’s some fracas behind him.
But when he returns to his seat, his bag has been moved to the aisle seat and Laurie has planted herself by the window. He feels his body sag in disappointment and has to suppress the urge to reach over and yank her out of the seat. Instead, he lifts his bag off the aisle seat and, cradling it in his lap, reluctantly sits down beside her.