War/Peace. Matthew Vandenberg

and then places this hand on the bottle. With two fingers and a palm turns the thing as though turning a key in an ignition. It spins like the wheel of a motorbike, round and round, round and round, and I watch the neck as the bottle slows, I watch this neck which looks so shiny, so slim, like a spoke on a bicycle wheel, but moves in such a hypnotic way like Shelly's neck, like her hair, her pupils as they dart from one person to another, her lashes as they curl and and unfurl like clockwork.

      'Jackson,' Shaun says.

      'It's pointing at you,' Chloe adds.

      'Oh,' I say, glancing down at the bottle. 'Well. So what will it be Shelly?'

      'I . . . think I'll go with truth,' Shelly says. 'It's not that I don't like you. It's just . . .'

      'Hey,' I say. 'No probs. I've got something I wanna ask you.'

      'Yeah?'

      'That's right. I've got a question,' I say. 'Ok: we've all had feelings for someone we know we shouldn't have feelings for. When was the last time you had feelings for someone you know you shouldn't have feelings for? And who was the person?'

      'Um . . .'

      'No wait. Let me re-phrase that a little. Sometimes you feel something that's just silly, you feel silly and a little giddy. And later you think about the feeling and realize that it was a meaningless feeling, and that you were not thinking clearly at the time. When was the last time you felt this way?'

      'Oh, that's easy,' Shelly says. 'Yeah. I was at Westfield the other day, actually it was at Tuggerah, in the north, before I moved down here, so it must have been a few weeks ago. And you know how those people in the center strip try to sell you things, like cream to remove wrinkles, exercise equipment, the stuff gullible people purchase?'

      'Yeah,' I say. 'They always talk with an accent.'

      'Yeah,' Shelly affirms. 'They're practically selling themselves, not the product. Hookers on Westfield street.' - Shelly shakes her head – 'But this woman, she was so beautiful, and she asks me over. She said something like: “Could I just ask you a quick question?” and she tilted her head to the right, held up two fingers, close to one another and said: “just a tiny question?” I shrugged. I wasn't in a hurry and so I said “sure.” The first thing I sensed as I wondered over to her was her perfume, so sweet, like her smile. I'm sure I took a few deep breaths then. I hope she didn't notice because it would have appeared strange, a girl so nervous stepping in front of a beautiful woman. I bet guys are nervous though. I bet she sells to guys all the time. And I could smell her breath, it was musky. Coz I was standing pretty close coz she was holding one of my fingers, rubbing a nail of mine with a block and making it shiny. Then I was gazing deep into her shiny eyes: they were sparkling like my nail, and I was as close to her as I could possibly get. I finally told her I wasn't interested in the product and walked away but I could have said this earlier. I'm not sure why I stayed talking to her for so long. It's funny but I think she was so charming, so beautiful, and smelled so nice, if she had asked me to lay down next to her I would have said yes. So that was a real strange feeling I had. Totally bizarre. Totally abnormal.'

      'It's not abnormal,' Shaun says.

      'Perfectly natural,' I say, shrugging.

      'Of course it's natural . . . if you're a guy,' Shelly says. 'But it was just silly.'

      'It's natural for girls as well,' Chloe says. 'You're still trying to figure out your sexuality.'

      'Hey. I know I'm straight,' Shelly asserts.

      'Yeah,' Jerri says. 'A girl can like the smell of another girl without being gay.'

      'Do you like the smell of Shelly?' I ask.

      'Of course,' Jerri says.

      'Even when she's not wearing perfume?' Shaun presses.

      'Let's get on with the game,' Shelly says. 'I'm pretty sure I've told my story. Jackson. You're next.'

      I shrug: 'Cool.'

      ******

      References

      1 Crack A Bottle – Eminem and 50 Cent

      2 All You Wanted – Michelle Branch

      3 Wild At Heart – Birds of Tokyo

      4 *Griffiths, R. R., & Grob, C. S. (2010). Hallucinogens as Medicine. Scientific American, 303(6), 76-79. Retrieved from EBSCOhost.

       *In the epic battle of north v south it's really a case of promiscuity and extroversion v hallucinogens and introversion . . . We all seek pleasure, just in different ways (through spirituality or through sex). Which is the best way, dear reader?

      SHELLY FREEMAN – 8:45am - December 12 - 2011

      'Shelly! Shelly! You ready?' mum calls.

      'Coming.'

      '15 'till Mass. Are you still in bed?'

      'I'm up!' I yell. 'Just reading.'

      'Well hurry.'

      I place Tolstoy's War and Peace on my bed and stand up. I quickly stroll over to the mirror that hangs on my wall like a lock of hair my room forgot to cut. I stare at my reflection for several seconds.

      I'm stalling.

      For the first time in my life I'm stalling. For the first time in my life I am not already half way to the Cathedral, of Saint Francis Xavier in this case. I study my eyes and attempt to work out why. 'Why should things be so different here in the south than how they were in the north?' I mutter. 'But if things are the same then why did we move here in the first place?'

      I can see two or three wrinkles above my right eye, ripples that are seemingly propagating across my face as I stare, sullen, at my eyes, then my mouth, then my nose, then my cheeks.

      'I'm all that,' I say, taking two steps back from the mirror. 'I'm beautiful, young, strong, confident. I'm a leader. I'm a charismatic leader. People listen to me. They will listen to me even when I don't want them to.' - I turn to face the camera – 'How can I lead people when I don't even know where I'm going? Huh? I only just arrived here in the south and they are asking me to take charge of a whole new youth group. I don't know these people, I don't know the area, and I don't know what I'm doing in the south. I'm Catholic, I know that, but' – I shake my head - 'I felt at home in the north.' - I run a finger along my left cheek, slowly, as though surprised at the softness of my own skin.

      'Shelly!'

      'Coming mum!'

      I pick up a small comb and run it through my hair once, and then again, and then I let it fall onto the small dresser . Then I rush down the stairs and into the entrance hall.

      'All good?' mum asks.

      'Yeah.' - I shrug - 'I think so. Did he want me to bring anything?'

      'Just that ripe personality of yours and . . . um . . . must be under here.' – my mum tickles me beneath an arm. I smile – 'There it is. Thought you lost it. Just be yourself dear, you'll do fine.'

      'Do you know anyone who'll be there?' I ask, as we exit the house.

      'We met the Johnson's yesterday. They seem nice. Two of their boys will be joining them. 8 and 7. And the Andrew's. They seem like a nice couple.'

      'What about everyone we knew in the north?'

      'We're not in the north anymore dear,' my dad says. 'It's probably best you don't mention we came from up north. I'm not sure exactly what people will think about that. We're Catholic, of course. But people tend to get a little sensitive about just who one associates with given the present climate. I know you miss your friends dear. But try not to mention any of them for now.'

      'Doesn't it look magnificent?' my mother says.

      'The cathedral?' I ask. 'It's just like the one we used to go to.'

      'Shelly,' my dad says. 'Look at it' – he points at the small white cathedral with