Free Girl Defective by Simmone Howell Page A

story. Nancy’s stories were like the little films I played myself when no one was watching. But for once she wasn’t telling.We sat in silence, me with my smile, she with her secret, while the tide rolled in and tourists took photographs of each other posing with the sea and the city behind them. I was jealous. Of him, of her and him. And I couldn’t think of anything to say. The day had gone flat. Seagulls wheeled in the sky. Behind us traffic undulated, a steady hum. I could see steamer ships and the smudge of the western suburbs across the water.
    â€œSo are you going to see him again?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œI don’t know. Soon.”
    â€œWhat about us?” I blurted.
    â€œWe can still hang out. You can meet him. Maybe you and Rocky—”
    â€œI’m not doing anything with anyone called Rocky.”
    I stared at the hole-eyed hipsters and the tin full of sand and lipsticky cigarette butts. And then I changed the subject, pointing across the water.
    â€œI lived in Newport once, for about a month. My grandparents live there. Mum’s parents. We don’t see them anymore. Dad took us there after Mum left. They had labels all over the house. Light switch here, that kind of thing. Also heaps of tinned food. Dad said it was because they lived through the Second World War.
    â€œMy great-grandpa lost his nose in the war,” Nancy said. “His whole nose, clean off.” A frown marred her face, and she drummed her foot into the dead grass.
    â€œIs he still around?” I asked. It was the first time Nancy had ever said anything about family.
    She shook her head, staring dully.
    â€œWhat about your mum and dad?”
    Nancy moved her mouth around. “They were arseholes. End of. I’d better get back in.”
    â€œIt’s my birthday next week,” I reminded her. Then it was my turn to scuff the grass. “Dad probably won’t let me out of the house.”
    â€œDo you want me to talk to him?”
    â€œYou’d do that?”
    â€œSure.” She shrugged. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” Nancy leaned into me. “Hey—do I smell?”
    I sniffed. Her hair smelled musky.
    â€œI came straight here. I didn’t even shower.”
    â€œGross.”
    Nancy grinned and pinched my cheek. I felt a seize inside. This idea that Nancy was getting further and further away. But she jumped up with renewed energy. She kissed both my cheeks and then went back for a third. And once again I felt a rush, a hum, a thrill.
    I walked home confused. What was wrong with me? Was I crushing on Nancy or crushing on Luke? I was like a dog with its tongue flopping out, ready to give everything to the first person who patted me. I had to protect myself. I couldn’t keep going with all my nerves on the surface of my skin.
    Luke was out on the street having a cigarette. Hehad one foot back against the plane tree and a dreamy look on his face. I didn’t acknowledge him, just stuck my head in the door and announced to Dad that I needed to lie down.
    â€œI want to talk to you,” he said, wagging his finger.
    â€œLater.”
    Up in my room I put on Kraftwerk’s “Neon Lights” and flopped onto my bed. The song was so long and glittery-sad, it made me feel like I was falling off the face of the earth. I pushed my face into my pillow and slept straight through till morning. If I had any dreams, I didn’t remember them.

FIGHTIN’ WORDS
    S KYLARK, YOU’RE GROUNDED.”
    â€œI’m grounded?”
    â€œYes. School, shop, home. That’s it.”
    â€œI hate to break it to you, but those three things, that’s pretty much all I do.”
    â€œDon’t be smart, it doesn’t suit you.”
    â€œYou’re crap at this, Dad.”
    He sighed. “I know.”
    It was Sunday morning. We were in the kitchen, surrounded by a mess presided over by two empty