By the end of primary school, I had a small and precarious friendship group formed through proximity, through being in class together at a small school. Where my earlier years had been spent mostly alone, seeking refuge in the library at lunch breaks as hiatus from all of the noise, I eventually learned the importance of being part of something, even if that something was for the most part unpleasant. Elsie reiterated this point by showing an unhealthy amount of excitement for every birthday party invitation I received, of which there were few, and none I was interested in attending. When Poppy Elliott invited me to her twelfth birthday pool party, invitations handed out to every single member of our grade, Mum was insistent this was my moment. But it was clear it was her moment, and I had to play along.
‘I got you a new swimsuit and an outfit for Poppy’s birthday – I’ve laid it out on your bed,’ she told me one afternoon, us both in the kitchen at the end of a long day.
‘Thanks, Mum. I’m not sure if I’m going to go,’ I replied, because that was the truth.
‘I’ve already told Mrs Elliott you’ll be there – RSVPs were due on Saturday, and she was thrilled.’
Elsie and Mrs Elliott socialised together at the golf club, Dad somehow able to fit a regular schedule of golfing around his already brimming work week. The wives met on the first Saturday of the month, to eat lunch and drink wine and brag about their children’s latest achievements, of which I had few for Mum to discuss. Thankfully she had Olivia and Luke for that.
‘It would probably be okay if I didn’t go, though, right? A pool party won’t be ruined by having one less person there.’
I had immediately recognised my error, understanding a fraction too late that I should have woken up with a headache or a sore stomach on the day, rather than trying to get out of it this far ahead of time.
‘Poppy is a lovely girl, Nora. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to go. You love to swim.’
The swimming I loved to do did not involve being with thirty other people my age, crammed into the backyard pool of someone I was fairly sure did not like me at all. I preferred solitary laps at the public pool, or visits to the waterfall with Fran on the holidays. But that was not the point.
‘Just try on the swimsuit, it’ll look great with your lean legs,’ she insisted.
It was in my best interests to comply, so I did. In my room, a green one-piece lay on my bed, tags still attached to show it had not been cheap. A striped cotton dress lay beside it, as well as sunglasses, new sandals, and a straw bag covered in pink and green flowers. Elsie had gone all out. I pulled the swing tags off everything and used the scissors on my desk to cut the labels off, too. After that there was no turning back. Squeezing my body into the togs, I felt my chest constrict and I tried to talk myself around. Elsie knocked and entered without waiting for a reply, her eyes lighting up upon seeing me.
‘I knew they would be perfect – you’ve got the body of a model, without the height,’ she said, hands clasped together.
‘The straps are a bit tight,’ I replied, pulling at the spots where they dug into my shoulders.
‘Better a bit tight than too loose and risking flashing everyone your business.’
And so that following Saturday, off to the pool party I went. Mum braided my hair, an excruciating process I usually avoided due to the sheer pain of having my scalp touched and my follicles pulled tight. The Elliotts lived on the other side of the mountain, in a huge house with a view. I had hoped Mum would walk me in, and come and talk to the other mothers as she had at the few parties I had attended in the past, but Elsie pulled over at the front of the driveway and indicated for me to get out of the car.
‘I’ll be back to pick you up in two hours. Please let Joanne know I’ll come in for a catch-up then – I’ve got a few errands to run.’
Anxiety had bloomed into panic, but it was clear the only way out was through. Walking down the driveway, I could hear shrieking and laughing coming from the back of the house. It was difficult to walk towards the danger, when every signal from my body was telling me to run. At least I was not the first one to arrive. Mrs Elliott answered the door, giving me a full scan up and down, and directed me through the house to the back patio, from which there was a view of the chaos.
‘Mum said she would be back soon, she’s just running a few errands,’ I explained, a line I had rehearsed on my walk in.
‘Perfect, hon. The girls will be thrilled you’re here.’
If I doubted that then, I was sure of its falsehood by the time I made my way to the pool area, where most of the boys from my grade were in the pool, and the girls were sitting in the Balinese-style cabana talking amongst themselves. It took me all of three seconds to realise that Elsie had made the wrong choice with my attire – I was the only girl in a one-piece and suddenly felt like a child amongst adults, my braid babyish and wrong.
‘Nora, you made it,’ Poppy said, with no real joy in her voice.
I handed her the gift Mum had bought, a bracelet-making kit and some stationery covered in pictures of cats. She peered into the gift bag and grimaced, but thanked me as I am sure she was taught to do.
‘The boys are being so crazy, we’re going to wait until all the girls are here before we get in,’ another girl from our school group, Mara, announced.
Mara had blonde hair and a tan, which, I understood, made up for a lot of other things about her. She and Poppy were best friends, BFFs, with the silver necklaces to prove it. They sat close together, and I squeezed around the low table to find a spot where I could best hide from the boys’ view. The boys in my grade were personas non grata to me, threatening in their wild and unpredictable behaviour, and best avoided. Their wrestling and dive-bombing in the water proved this. It had taken me years, but at least I understood how to navigate the social dynamics of the girls. Or I thought I did.
‘Your swimmers are cute,’ Mara said, and the other girls tittered, avoiding my eyes.
‘Thanks. My mum bought them for me for the party,’ I replied, only realising once it had left my mouth that this was the wrong thing to say.
‘Is your family, like, super religious or something?’ someone else asked. I cannot remember who it was, nor did I understand the implication of this question.
‘No . . .’
‘Her mum is friends with my mum, and her older brother is, like, super cute,’ Poppy said, talking like an American tween on a Netflix show and giving an explanation as to why I was there, validating my attendance by proxy of my apparently attractive brother.
Once a handful of other girls from our grade had arrived, the group consensus was that it was time to get into the water. I followed behind, pulling at my straps and willing my mind to leave my body so I could make it through the rest of the party. Whatever happened, this would all be over in an hour or two. I became aware that the girls wereveryaware of how the boys perceived them getting into the pool. They were giggling and clutching one another, cold water soon splashed their way by all the Ryans and Beaus and Noahs of Year Seven. I stepped off the bottom step and submerged my whole body and head in one quick motion. When I resurfaced, there were girls climbing onto boys’ shoulders, and a mysterious wrestling game began. I stayed in the corner of the pool, taking it all in.
