Around the Marigold Round

Summer had almost ended, yet the suffocating heat lingered on. People started moving a little more, awoken from a long coma of days melting on the sand before taking a dip in the ocean. About halfway down a suburban cul-du-sac street, a post-war single-storey house blended in with all the other monotonous houses of the quiet Australian suburb. In approximately 8 minutes you would hear the slamming of front doors and the manic yelling of parents attempting to herd their kids into the family SUV. Just as the ubiquitous post war houses littered the suburbs of the Central Coast, so did the families who would all leave their homes at 8 am sharp for work or school until summer came rolling around again.

Limbs strewn across the bed and head buried in a book, everything was still. Her mind waged a war against her body, urging her to lift her legs of lead. Her body remained in a state of statuesque limbo. Time escaped her as approaching footsteps threatened to burst her bubble of chaotic silence. The ticking bomb exploded, and the girl jumped from her bed and pulled on a school dress that was much too small for her. Nausea overtook her body as she hauled her schoolbag over her slim shoulder. Stumbling out of her room and into the kitchen she swiped a mandarin, slamming close the front door in retaliation.

The February heat struck her and every living thing with the ferocity of an arctic breeze that shocks the system. Indeed, the surrounding system appeared shaken up, with slightly singed suburban front lawns, and leaves on trees crisp like those in Autumn. Surveying the street, the heat mingled with the black asphalt creating an entrancing haziness that hovered just above. A flash of copper made the girl stop in her tracks.

Eyes widening, she stroked the delicate leaves of the bold marigolds, whispering “I can’t believe you guys survived.”

She leapt up as she heard the distant noise of the ticking bomb exploding at her once again, and trudged onwards.

***

A masterpiece lay before her eyes which flickered back and forth as to drink in every little detail of the creature. Its arms must have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself, with the hot sun breathing life to the different shades of brown on it, instead of causing it to wither like all the other living things.

Her mind wandered, imagining the creature’s skin, hot to the touch. She imagined the creature embracing her and running its strong hands through her hair. A tingling crept upon her. Palms sweating and chest tightening, an abrupt wave of repulsion consumed her. She tore her gaze back to her book, Wuthering Heights. She sighed, glimpsing at her green plaid dress- she was a mere flicker amongst the raging flame of teenage girls waiting at the bus stop.

***

Perfectly manicured lawns enveloped the imposing sandstone buildings in which small crosses perched like little doves on each roof. Girls in green dresses embraced each other with plastic smiles, hair and ribbons perfectly in place; parents snapped away at the short ones whose ginormous bags seemed to defy the laws of gravity. Her breathing accelerated as the repugnant atmosphere invaded her senses. Instantaneously, the air inside her lungs dissipated as she felt a blow to her back.

“Izzy!”

Regaining her senses, “Gia, you fucking monster!”

“Language, young lady!” The words arising from an older woman with a stern eye.

The school bell rang with such alarm that Izzy swore it became louder every year, seeming to penetrate to the very depths of her consciousness. She wrapped her arm around Gia, sighing,

“Ah, if music be the food of love, play on.”

Gia eyed Izzy’s timetable,

“Aha, you’re in Murray for homeroom.”

***

On the parent tours of St. Bernadettes, Murray was rarely listed on the itinerary, save for a couple of language classrooms. From the exterior the aged sandstone building appeared just like any of the others. However, a large gumtree ensured that no sunlight could infiltrate into the classrooms, and so the interior was slowly decaying and constantly in need of maintenance.

Entering the classroom, it dawned upon Izzy that she was about to make one of the most important decisions of the year. Scanning the room revealed that Amelia Broadback had already taken the best seat- at the very back, closest to the window. This meant that during summer she could singularly devour any breeze that happened to make its way towards the building, and during winter could bask in any sun rays that dared to perforate through the dirty windows. Brow sweating from the absence of air conditioning, she eyed the next best seat- two rows in front of Amelia, adjacent to the window. Two more girls had arrived at the entrance and seemed to be sizing the room up as well. Izzy’s eyes caught those of another schoolgirl. There was a loud bang as Izzy and the girl both flew over the tables to reach the coveted chair. Izzy was glued to the seat, like a monolithic statue. Her opponent rebounded, landing with a thump onto the floor.

Izzy’s triumphant laughter came to a halt when she noticed a tall figure near the door. The owner of the stern eye exploded like the ticking bomb. Izzy stood up as she drunk the callous remarks being spat at her. It was as if she were drowning, head bobbing above the surface, gasping for air, before quickly vanishing again,

“...acting like a child… nails… dress... much too short… belong in a brothel!”

***

Nail varnish remover in one hand and toilet paper in the other, Izzy stood over the girls’ bathroom sink staring intensely at her nails. They were a deep red with white that Gia had spent hours labouring over. Izzy remembered Gia using a toothpick to create a swirling effect on her middle fingernail which she had redone three times before finally getting it to her liking. Sighing she rubbed the damp paper over her thumbnail.

With its tiles and absence of windows, the bathroom had been a cool relief to the inferno outside. Izzy’s body beckoned her to stay, but she knew she would get into even more trouble if she wasn’t present at the start of term mass. Making her way toward the school hall she spotted Gia’s chocolate frizzy hair and rushed to catch up with her.

Inside, the school hall was like a very large vacuum, void of any air, and Izzy’s throat seemed to retract with every inhale. Gia consoled her as they took their seats,

“You’re not going to faint, it’s only 40 minutes.”

The whole congregation of students and teachers stood up as an elderly priest made his way down the makeshift aisle. Gia frowned,

“That’s not Father Sunny. Damn, he was the only reason I turned up at these things.”

The old man droned on, being anything but a distraction to the blazing heat and beads of sweat trickling down Izzy’s back.

“And as stated in Corinthians ‘Flee from sexual immorality. The sexually immoral person sins against his own body. You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.’”

Gia rolled her eyes,

“Glorify God in your body- my ass. I mean listen to how archaic his words are, who does he think we are, celibate nuns?”

Izzy was thankful she was sitting in her chair, her stomach churned, and tiny black spots impaired her vision. Looking slightly crazed, she widened her eyes as if this would help them disappear.

A harsh voice hissed in her ear, “Gianna Calci and Ismae Varley you are in mass, not the playground. Get up at once... go on, get up!”

“Now go outside and once you are sober come back in again!” the teacher remarked.

Izzy and Gia made their way outside, eyes trailing after them as they embarked upon the walk of shame, down the aisle. Once outside Gia burst out laughing, Izzy filled her lungs with what felt like cool, crisp air.

“You know what we should do?” Gia’s eyes twinkled mischievously.

***

The beach was an oasis with its cool coastal breeze enticing the girls. Grinning, they ran down the sand dunes without a care in the world, passing a few people who frowned disapprovingly. They dumped their bags and stripped to their underwear, running and splashing about the foamy water. Izzy floated, letting the small waves carry her to wherever they intended to go, her mind finally clear.

Back on the sand they lay content, limbs stretched about, finally allowing the sun's rays to warm their bodies. Izzy’s attention mindlessly wandered around the page of her book.

“I really hate Mrs Kleine, in fact I hate St Bernadettes- and my Mum- and everybody.” Izzy stated.

Gia turned her head, “But you could never hate me,” she smiled playfully.

“No, I don’t think I could ever hate you, G.”

“Well, I have some exciting news.”

“What?”

“Let’s just say virgin girl is no more”

“What! Gia, with who?”

“Okay, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

Izzy nodded intently.

“Okay, it was with Amelia Broadback.”

“Amelia! No way. What was it like?”

“It was… kind of awkward, but like really nice as well.”

Izzy reclined, staring up at the clouds. Her mind floated back to when the tingling sensations had begun. Stumbling upon some lewd content on the internet, she was so intrigued by the new feelings that possessed her body. Yet something kept pecking at her brain, something that told her that what she was feeling was disgusting and wrong. She had pressed her legs together and squeezed tight, as if the feelings would disappear altogether. And they had overtime- at least for the most part. She felt a pang in her chest, all the years of not allowing her body to feel had finally caught up to her.

“So what time are you coming to mine for movie night?” Izzy asked.

“Oh- I completely forgot, but I’m actually meeting Amelia tonight.”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine... don’t worry about it.” Izzy muttered.

Izzy turned to her book. She knew she shouldn’t be frustrated with Gia but she couldn’t help it. People are always so unreliable, even those most close to you. It’s best to never get too attached, she thought.

***

Walking down the cul-de-sac street, Izzy’s heart hung heavy. Inside the house the bomb was ticking away. Three, two, one. She exploded as Izzy entered the kitchen, exclaiming as any worried mother would,

“The school called!”

Izzy ran back outside, away from the suburban prison, her emotions from the past day finally catching up to her. Pacing the front garden, a glimpse of gold caught her eye. There the marigolds flourished in all their brilliance, hues of yellow, red and orange amongst the parched grass and faded bricks. They peered up at her, bold and unafraid, mocking her. She crept slowly forward, like a panther waiting to pounce on its prey. Tears trailing down her cheeks released an inner fire, which mingled with the sun’s hot rays, caused an eruption. Her hands bled liquid gold as tiny petals permeated the surrounding atmosphere like a thick fog. The balmy breeze took a hold of them, whirling higher and higher, away to an unknown place.