Fly like Superman

                                     Summer

I knew the minute Mum introduced us that she would be trouble. Panting I ran round into our back garden through the narrow gap between the garage and the house, trying to dodge the jaggy pebbles that always seemed to scratch my elbows, knuckles and knee’s. Mum always tells me to slow down, stop running everywhere.

       ‘Ellen, there you are,’ says Mum. ‘This is Linsey she's just moved in next door, mind I was telling you about her?’

I try to catch my breath and crinkle my nose at this stranger sitting on the concrete steps in front of our new extension. I don’t like someone that I don’t know being in my back garden. She has one hand wrapped around the back of her leg, the other hand with her fingers splayed is over the front of her other leg, just above her bright white knee high socks. I notice she has those little red hair clips in that I used to wear before mum cut my hair short. They hold her shiny hair back from either side of her lightly tanned face. Her skin looks the same all over; smooth, brown; no freckles.

         ‘Nice to meet you Ellen,’ she says, her lashes flit fluttering above her dark eyes as she lifts her right hand to twirl her white beaded necklace.

        What is she doing here and why is she talking to my mum?

Behind her the breezeblocks and scaffolding show the empty box of what will be our new dining room. Mum lets me roller skate in there just now, but I’m not allowed to run up the stairs, there is a big metal pole thing that holds the whole house up sshhh!

I stand there in my stripy shorts that I always have to pull out my bottom, gawping at her…this perfect looking thing. I suddenly can’t speak, I mumble hi looking down at my white t-shirt which is covered in grass stains from doing rolypoly’s out in the field. My knees are mucky and my face feels hot under my thousands of freckles.

      ‘She’s starting Glenacre after the summer,’ mum nods at me. Then smiling at Linsey she says, ‘maybe you two can be friends, your mum says you’ll be in Miss Fishers class too’.

Mum has her see-through beige sundress on and dad’s old brown moccasin slippers, they look like big brown boats on her feet. I feel embarrassed; I can see her big high-waisted pants and Linsey must be able to see them too.           

       ‘Linsey,’ shouts a sharp voice from the other side of the fence.

       She jumps up, ‘Bye Ellen,’ she smiles at me. Smirk, tilt, twist.

       ‘Bye Mrs Moody,’ she says smiling an even wider smile at my mum, showing her white straight teeth, her tiny silver hoop earrings tint and glint in the sun as she pitter patters down the steps and slides scrape free through the small gap.

                                      Autumn                 

        My friend Elaine from across the road at number 23 asked me to do the tuck shop with her next week. She had said she would come and chap for me on the way to school. A few days later she cycled past my house on her big brothers Grifter bike, her toes just reaching the peddles. I was playing seven’s against the side of my house with my two red rubber balls; one was a bit rubbish and not so bouncy, it had a bit crumbling out of it like a mouse had nibbled it. I tried to bounce it under my leg, but it kept going off in the wrong direction.

      I’d got to five when she shouted, ‘Ellen meet me at Linsey’s tomorrow instead.’

It says 8.45 on the TV-AM programme Mum watches so I shout bye. Shutting the porch door I hear the little panes of glass rattle. I turn right to look at my living room window on the way past and Mum is standing there waving; red cheeks, short hair, a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. As I walk to Linsey’s next door, I see Elaine through the porch glass window. She’s already there holding a big jar of red sweets, it looks just like the glass jars from the sweet shop up the road. The woman in the shop called me sonny the other day.

      She said, ‘right sonny whit are you having?’

I hop up the two stairs to her open porch door. I see the red sweets, sugary squares; cola cubes my favourite.

      ‘Hi,’ I say, but Elaine doesn't look at me, her ginger curls and shiny face look forwards into Linsey’s house. 

My tummy feels like something is bouncing in it as I stand there. Wait till your invited in, mum would say, it’s rude to just walk into someone else’s house. Her house smells different to mine, like warm digestive biscuits; it makes me feel a bit sickly. I feel like something bad is going to happen, I don’t know why.

      Linsey walks into the porch from her house and looks at Elaine, smirk, tilt, twist. Then she looks at me with her dark eyes that make me want to look away. 

   ‘I’ll be doing the tuck shop with Elaine now,’ she says.

Everything inside my tummy feels like it has landed on the top step, I feel like I need to do a poo or something.    

        Don’t be rude, don’t talk back, I don’t care whose fault it is, be quiet!

I don't say anything, but when I swallow it feels like one of those cola cubes is stuck in my throat. They push past me to get down the porch steps, black felt blazers and grey pleated skirts. Elaine gives me a quick smile.

          ‘Come on let’s hurry up and show everyone these,’ Linsey says.

Then she turns round to me, her eyes looking small like dark marbles, whilst her silky fawn curls blow out in the wind. Smirk, twist, twirl.

           ‘Run,’ she shouts turning back round.

They scurry giggling then break into a full run.  Should I run with them, are we together? Yes of course we are. Elaine is my friend. So I run, the flat soles of my brown brogues slapping and scraping on the grainy gravel of the lane. They both turn back, heads turned in towards each other. Giggle giggle.

           ‘Run,’ Linsey squeals again, her high pitched squeak attracting a gaggle of other kids on the lane, where the path from the council estate meets ours.

The kids from the council estate say we live in the corned beef canyon as we can’t afford to eat properly since we live in the bought houses. They must be right; we eat corned beef sandwiches all the time. I like to squelch the white bread together till the sandwich is almost flat, but I hate the white stuff on the edges. I ask mum to cut it off.

I knew then though. I knew they were running away from me but I couldn’t stop as everyone would know. So, I keep on running eyes straight ahead through the screeching boys and past James who had spat chewing gum on my hair last year. As I cross at the lollypop man, I can't see them, people are blocking my way. Prams, little Primary one’s crying, boys pushing, gaggles of girls. Look ahead. People are all in little groups, playing in the playground. Heart pounding. I look and look from side to side. I still can't see them. I walk up the steps onto the raised platform that juts out from the back of the school. That’s where we go to get into school now. The big one’s; primary five, six, and seven’s. The wind always catches up here. Even if it’s just a little windy in the playground it howls, twirls and blows.

      Looking around the corner of the platform to see if they went down to the other playground, I realise I’ve lost them. I turn to watch as some kids standing at the edge of the platform facing into the wind shriek and yelp as a big swoop of wind suddenly swirls and burls. It lifts crumpled crisp bags and dried leaves like they are in a hurricane. My fringe blows back off my face and I gasp for air. The bell still hasn’t gone yet, where did they go? Then the thin swingy door bangs behind me and I turn to see her, a flip of her grey pleated skirt, a backward smirk, curls blowing, and nestled in her arms, the blue top of the glass sweetie jar. The door bangs shut again.

     Slowly I walk across the platform, chin down. I look up as I hear weird Simon from up the road who always wears shorts and wellies whooping Superman! As his blonde curls lift up off his face and he holds his red jacket out at the back like it’s a parachute. I look out further to the gritty ash football pitch. A boy is running and swinging round and round on the goal post. He looks like my swing ball when I hit it with my bat.

 I don’t understand why I’m not to do the tuck shop now. Maybe Elaine doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. But I really wanted to do the tuck shop with her. I feel embarrassed, lonely, alone.

The wind buffets me, like it’s giving me a shove. Pushing me back, back, back. I try to make my feet go solid and push them hard into my brown brogue shoes, digging them onto the concrete slab. The wind wisps at my hair catching the short brown waves and my cows lick fringe. Simon whoops again. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I reach down to the open zip of my pink and blue rain coat and hold onto the corners. The wind suddenly whips in and fills it puffing it out behind me, like a sail on a boat making me take a few steps backwards. I walk to the concrete edge, my school skirt rippling like water across my thighs as my fringe blows up and fans out standing on its end.

And as the wind fills the hollow of my open mouth, I whoop and fly like Superman too.