Page 46 of Mad Mabel

“What am I going to do at school?” she said when I told her she didn’t have to. “Homework? No sirree, Bob! I’d rather go get into some trouble with you.”

Get into trouble. It was an expression, rather than an actual suggestion, and yet there was something exciting about the prospect. Everyone considered me a square, and with good reason. It was hard to get into much trouble alone. As it turned out, even the possibility of trouble was intoxicating.

But instead of going straight back to Rosehill, we just walked. For a while we talked and walked, and then we walked in silence. We found our way to the beach path and that’s where we noticed the bonfire.

“Ooh, Maybelline, look—a bonfire!”

It wasn’t unusual to see a bonfire at the beach at this time of day. Due to Rosehill’s proximity to the beach, I often smelled them from my bedroom window, and heard the squeals and snorts of laughter from the children around them. They typically burned until sundown, at which point they were abandoned or doused by parents who finally showed up to rein things in. At this point in the afternoon though, it burned strongly, surrounded by neighborhood children, still in their school uniforms.

Daphne grabbed my arm and started dragging me toward the fire. “There’s some kids from school there. Let’s check it out.”

I dug my feet into the sand. As charming as she was, sometimes I wondered if Daphne came from another planet. Billy Harris was among the group, as were his younger brothers, all of them smoking cigarettes. The twins, Dolly and Tammy, were also there. I also spotted Christos, the new boy at school. It was a surprise to see him because, being Greek and new to Australia, he seemed to be as much of a social outcast as I was. His parents owned a fish-and-chips shop, which armed people with endless jokes about him being a moussaka muncher, smelling of chip fat, or needing to do well at math so he didn’t shortchange them when they collected their dinner on Friday night. However, unlike me, Christos was an exceptional football player. I assumed his newly favorable social status was because of this.

“Are you mad, Daphne? We can’t just bowl up and start talking to them.”

“Don’t be a ninny. Corsets we can.”

As she took off toward the group of kids, my instinct was to let her go alone. And yet, after the friendship Daphne had offered me, I knew the very least I could do was stand beside her.

She’d walked so fast that I didn’t catch up with her until she was almost at the bonfire. By this point, the kids had all stopped talking, excited and appalled by the unexpected interruption.

“Hey,” Daphne said. “I’m Daphne, this is Mabel.” She laughed. “I mean, of course you know Mabel. She’s hard to miss, right?”

“Hey,” I said weakly.

I stared into the fire, which contained a charred school diary, a wheel from a bicycle or pram, and general beach detritus—a yellow plastic pail and a glass Coca-Cola bottle. I wanted to crawl into it.

Christos broke the silence. “Hey!”

He was drenched—shirt clinging to him, socks squelching in his shoes. His dark hair was slicked back from his face, except for one rebellious strand that curled forward and sent a slow drip trailing down his cheek.

“Phwoar,” Daphne said quietly. “He’s a bit of all right.”

I wasn’t sure about that, but I was grateful that he, unlike the others, had acknowledged me. Until he said: “How’s the weather up there, Beanstalk?”

A ripple of laughter went around. Heat rose from my neck to the tips of my ears like a rash of shame.

“Beanstalk,” Billy repeated, sniggering. “I like it. Wait, does that mean you want to climb her?”

The twins howled. Billy’s brothers nearly choked on their smokes.

I stared at my feet, wishing I could vanish into the sand. A hundred comebacks crowded my throat, but none made it past my lips. The laughter scraped across my skin like grit. I could feel every inch of myself—too tall, too bony, toothere. Then, I heard myself mutter, “If he’s interested in me, he’d better set his sights a little lower.”

It was sharp and louder than I’d meant, and I braced, certain I’d made it worse.

But something shifted. The laughter that followed wasn’t cruel. It was surprised. Pleased, even. Christos laughed too—a genuine, easy sound, not the snide bark of the twins or the hollow bray of Billy and his gang. Daphne hooted.

“You win this round, Beanstalk,” Christos said. He extended a hand as if to shake mine. “Well done.”

“Shake his hand,” Daphne whispered.

But I kept my gaze down and my hands tucked firmly by my side. I’d somehow survived this moment. I wasn’t about to tempt fate.

“Anyway, since you’re here… we’re playing spin the bottle,” Billy said to Daphne and me. “Want to join?”

“You wish, Billy,” Tammy said. “We were playing truth or dare. “Fred, Christos, and Johnny chose dare, that’s why they’re soaking wet. I chose truth—no, I’ve never kissed anyone. Dolly also chose truth, and the last time she lied was when she told Mum she liked her haircut.”

The twins giggled.