Ellie burrowed her toes into the cool, pale sand. The ripples in its surface reminded her of miniature sand dunes: ones she could shape as she pleased. Under the jetty, she had her own patch of shaded desert. A haven from the hot-potato heat of the rest of the beach.
“How’re you going there? Y’alright?”
Ellie looked up and saw a boy. He couldn’t be much older than her, with a hawkish nose and limbs so thin it was a wonder they held him up. A nest of wild ginger hair sat on his head, and his bright, keen eyes were trained on her. “Can I help you?”
“Nah, you just seemed a little… uh… abandoned under there. Is that an English accent I hear?” The boy gave a buck-toothed grin.
“Yes. And I’m fine. I am.” She paused. “Thank you though.” He didn’t take the hint.
The boy’s legs appeared to give out. Plonking down to sit, he angled his face towards the sun. Ellie sighed, taking comfort in the boundary drawn between them by the shade. “I’m Moo. What’s your name?”
“Moo?”
“Yup. Real name’s Sean but everyone calls me Moo.”
“Oh. Why?”
“Honestly, can’t remember. I’m sure there was a reason at some point. But now it just is. It’s stuck to me.”
“Oh.” In truth, with his happily jumbled features, Moo matched the boy far better than Sean. “I’m Ellie.” She offered with a small smile or grimace. It was unclear which.
“Great to meet you Els.” Another grin. “So, how long you been in Adelaide?” Moo made no signs of leaving.
He was comfortable next to this newbie. Entertained by the beetroot flush that filled the space between her freckles. Or maybe that was sunburn?
“Um... almost two weeks. I’m on a local holiday school program.” She stared at her hands, watching the sand filter through her fingers.
“Crikey, you must be mad smart then.” Ellie shrugged in response. “It’s a long way to come for same old school, though.” Finally, she looked right at him, her pinky face scrunched with annoyance.
“It’s completely different! I saved for a year so I could come. The teachers are experts here! And… and…”
“I’m sorry.” Moo threw up his hands, as if her upset were a ball he could catch. “Look…What do I know? I’ve never gone to English school. I think you’re brave coming here. You’re only, what, eleven?”
“Twelve. It’s not that brave.”
“Well I’m thirteen, and I’ve never gone abroad. You’re plenty brave, you’re just shy.”
In a sudden U-turn, Moo squirmed under Ellie’s continued stare. She broke her silence. “You look younger too. Not even New Zealand?”
“What?”
“Sorry. I mean, you never went abroad to New Zealand? It’s not far.”
Moo scoffed. “It’s ages away. Australia’s bigger than you think. Besides, I’m dead scared of planes.”
The confession made Ellie smile. “You.. you don’t seem scared of much.”
“Look… The way I see it is we’re all scared of something. Or somethings. What’s normal to you is bananas scary to me, and that’s cool.” Moo shifted, momentarily distracted by a distant yelp. “We just have to help each other out when we can. That way, we all end up alright.”
Ellie chewed her lip a little. “I think I know what you mean, though I’ve never thought of things being bananas scary before.” A small chuckle broke out of her. “I guess some of my teachers might be that frightening.”
“Well if we ever see one, I’ll fight them off for you. And you’ll help me with my biggest fear.”
“How can I fight off planes?”
“Not planes… Maths.” Moo stretched his mouth into a cartoonish grimace, ballooning his eyes.
That earned him real laughter.
The unusual pair continued sitting either side of the pier’s shadow, tracks dragging in the sand from where the sun required them to move. Engrossed in conversation, they were unbothered by the jetty’s noises.
Neither spotted the small head intent on listening in. “Ouch!” Sam clutched the backs of her legs, having tried to sit down on a bench. It had been baking all day and the paint felt more like lava. She tried again, careful to pull her knees up to her chest. Peering over the railing, it seemed the outburst hadn’t blown her cover. That boy, the tall one, was still focused on Ellie. His grin was so wide it would’ve struck her as that of the Cheshire Cat, if not for his Bugs Bunny teeth. He wasn’t afraid to show them, either. Not like Ellie. No, Bugs was full of that plastered smile, waving his arms about like a scarecrow.
“I’m staying with a host family nearby.” It was barely possible for Sam to hear the older girl’s thin voice over the sound of wind, waves, and gulls.
“Cool! What’re they like?”
“They’re nice, I guess.” Sam felt a prickling in her stomach. She hadn’t planned to follow Ellie, but couldn’t ignore that she was talking to this stranger. Ellie didn’t chat with anybody. She never played, or brushed Sam’s hair like the other exchange students did.
“You guess?”
“Well. They’re a bit much for me.” Sam clenched her fists. She recalled her mum’s punishments for throwing sand at other girls. Sniffing, she stayed put. “I mean, they’re so… so energetic. They’re loud and lovely and absolutely no-one listens to anybody. They’re nothing like my family.”
“Exactly like mine, though. You know, I think you’d like them more if you weren’t so homesick.”
Homesick? Then it would be better for everyone if the snob went back to England. Sam eased open her fists and fiddled with her bracelet, blinking quickly. Telling Mum might solve things, but then everyone would know about her eavesdropping. No, she thought, hopping up and running home. She wouldn’t tell. But Ellie would regret this.
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This short was written for a Summer creative writing course. I have no plans to continue the story, but I had great fun writing a childhood mini-drama set in Adelaide. Although an adult when I first visited (and not a travelling student), I did enjoy bringing my own experience as a Brit in Australia to the story. Before COVID-19 had its way, my time there was some of the happiest of my life. Mostly because of the friendly (and always nicknamed) people I met there. Like Ellie, I loved Henley Beach in spite of the frequent sunburn, and was surprised by the strong sense of community. Nostalgia aside, I hope I can return some time soon!