Free Another Night in Mullet Town by Steven Herrick

forever
    knowing she’s watching
    and I’m not sure what to say.
    A few metres away,
    I stumble
    and accidentally kick sand onto her legs.
    She laughs instead of swearing.
    I reach down
    to brush the grit from her tights.
    â€˜This is how you treat a girl
    who shares gelato with you,’ she says.
    â€˜Jonah kicks sand,’ I splutter
    as if that’s an excuse.
    I manage to sit beside her
    without falling over.
    Ella smiles and accepts
    the bottle I offer,
    taking a short sip
    without wiping the rim first.
    â€˜I know what you’re thinking, Jonah,’ Ella says.
    I look to the lake to hide my embarrassment.
    â€˜It’s okay,’ she adds, handing me the beer.
    â€˜There are better ways of swapping germs.’
    I nearly choke on the bottle.

Ten ways to share spit
    A joint gets passed around
    the group near the fire.
    Patrick to Harriet to Angelo –
    boy, girl, boy –
    as if we’re in year one again
    and the teacher has directed
    us to sit in formation.
    Ella takes another sip,
    then glances at the rim of the bottle,
    and says, ‘I wonder how many ways
    we can share spit?’
    I wonder how many times I can blush
    in the one evening.
    â€˜Drinking out of the same bottle.’
    Ella holds up one finger.
    â€˜Sharing gelato,’ I respond.
    â€˜Getting a spray,’ Ella giggles,
    â€˜literally, from Mr Drake.’
    â€˜Choosing the wrong toothbrush at camp.’
    â€˜Choosing the wrong boyfriend at camp!’
    â€˜Standing near Angelo when he sneezes.’
    â€˜Getting into a fight with Angelo.’
    Ella looks at me, meaningfully.
    â€˜Kissing your auntie?’
    â€˜Kissing.’
    â€˜Kissing?’
    â€˜Maybe.’
    â€˜Soon?’
    â€˜Later.’
    â€˜Nervous.’
    Ella passes me the bottle.
    â€˜Don’t be.’

Welcome back
    Rachel arrives at the party
    later than everyone else.
    The circle goes quiet
    as she approaches;
    Angelo pretends to be very interested
    in adding wood to the fire.
    She stops a metre from the pier,
    looking up towards Manx
    sitting alone on the grass.
    Patrick stands and walks towards Rachel
    offering her the joint.
    She looks down at it
    for what seems like forever,
    then turns and walks away
    up the hill to Manx.
    He offers her a beer.
    She takes a long sip,
    then holds the bottle up to the fire circle
    as if choosing her preferred drug
    and friend.
    â€˜Hey, Angelo,’ Rachel calls,
    â€˜show us your best dive.’
    Like the rest of us,
    she knows Angelo is a poor swimmer.
    Angelo hesitates for a minute
    not sure whether to accept the dare.
    Then he jumps up and runs across the sand,
    taking his shirt off as he goes
    almost stumbling in his haste.
    Rachel looks across to me
    and waves.

Another night in mullet town
    Angelo runs too fast
    and his somersault off the pier
    turns into a smacking bellyflop.
    Everyone winces
    as he emerges howling in pain.
    A few boys run to help.
    He staggers from the water
    his arms around the shoulders
    of Patrick and a mate.
    He coughs up water
    and one of the girls offers him
    a bottle of beer
    as if it’s the cure for all ills.
    Ella stands,
    reaches for my hand
    and leads me away from the lake.
    The moonlight
    traces our shadows
    along the empty streets.
    An hour ago,
    I was sitting with Manx;
    another night in mullet town
    watching the hyphen army prance.
    â€˜Dad’s out on his boat overnight
    and Mum’s staying with friends
    in the bay,’ Ella whispers.
    She grips my hand tighter.
    Our footsteps echo
    past the shops
    and the playground
    where a lone swing squeaks in the breeze
    and a seagull scavenges in the rubbish bin
    below a blinking streetlight.

The more practice, the better
    Ella opens the door to her house
    and a single lamp
    bathes the lounge room
    in a soft yellow glow.
    On the wall are pictures of Ella
    in a series of school uniforms
    from the age of six to sixteen.
    She laughs.
    â€˜Mum takes a photo
    for the first