Sunday, March 26, 2006

The thrilling of Miss M.

This is the story you need to remember when the well is dry. And dry it is.

You are eleven; finally beyond two hands and it is grade 6 camp. An idyllic farm near Warrnambool. There is a pool and animals that make weird noises at 5.30am. You are not a farm girl, but you love this. You love seeing the waves of muted colours outside your window each morning. You love the quiet contemplation of the gums standing straight on the closely shaved hills at dusk. The scavenger hunt they've organised this late afternoon is a fun idea and * the boy who thrills you is your partner; drawn out from the bottom of a sock. Fate, and you both know it.

You have spent the year watching him during silent reading over the top of your book. He sits two rows across and one desk down. At one stage he was moved right behind you but that wouldn't do. It didn't allow you the distance to look and wonder. Luckily he was moved away again and you could go back to watching him mouthing the words. You are the shy dork. He is the blonde sporting hero. Let's face it, you're still the dork - He's probably still the stud.

You are both picked as leads in the school musical and sing a duet together. He always wants to get together at lunch time to rehearse all lines and the song. You hardly know what to say to him, he almost makes you stop breathing, stop moving, stop everything.

He tells you little anecdotes about his weekend, tries to teach you how to kick a footy (you are terrible, of course), claps your high jump achievements (you have a great scissor kick), helps you up the stairs when you hurt your ankle during gym and slaps your hand the hardest when bush dancing. A girl collects little seashells like these. The lovely things stay in your heart.

So back at the farm, you set off for the scavenger hunt. This is a team to be reckoned with, you gather small artifacts from around the farm at lightening speed. A leaf in the shape of a country. Something blue. Something light... You're going to win. You have all the grand ideas and he has the know how of how to make them happen.

The last question stumps you especially. Something pretty. You look around at the scenery. The whole place is pretty. If only we could take a photo you muse. Maybe I can draw a picture of it... You look at * to get his opinion and find him staring at your face, smiling at you, the sky almost indigo behind him ..or we could just take you back, it is almost a whisper but the grin reaches his eyes. To this date the best pick up line you have ever heard and the last thing you ever expected to hear. umm you blush eloquently. He picks up a flower and gives it to you and grabs your other hand.

You are last back for the scavenger hunt.

Why do you choose to remember this innocent story beyond any others; more adult or juicy?
It's simple;
You want to be *that* thrilled again. Girlishly, blushingly, tantalisingly thrilled.