Katie Plumberton stood on the edge of the riverbank staring at the water below. There wasn’t much of it. A brown mucky trickle was all that was left after years of drought. Above her, a flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos whirled and danced, squawked and squabbled, but she didn’t notice. Once, when a chill wind gusted in from the south, she shivered, pulled her jacket close, and dug her hands deep into the pockets. The rest of the time she was still and silent.
It had been triggered the day before. The sudden descent. Mind, she’d been flirting with it for years, but it was under control, or so she thought, until she walked through the lounge room on her way out for the evening.
‘Off again?’ her mum said fiddling with her necklace.
‘Yes. Jen’s birthday.’
‘You’ve not changed yet. What are you going to wear?’
‘I can’t be bothered, mum. It’s just at the Pig’s Head.’
‘Oh.’ Disappointment hung thick in the air. ‘Who’s driving?’
‘Chloe’s brother, there and back.’ Chloe’s brother did a brisk trade on the girls’ party nights.
‘Good-oh then. Have fun.’
Her mum turned back to the telly and Katie glanced at the screen. Anh Do painting Tim Minchin. Anh asking Tim about self-doubt, Tim saying of course he had self-doubt. Your self-image is formed while you’re growing up and once formed it stays with you throughout your life.
That was all she heard before a car horn beeped, and she ran outside to join the girls.
***
