The Schoolgirls

The Schoolgirls (9th October 2008, 10.02am)

We got sent to the science technicians to
Have our illegal nail-polish removed.

We pulled the petals off the daisies to
predict a love we did not yet know; we
lay in sunlight, bare legs turned to catch
the rays, unaware of the effects of the effect
we sought. We were sloppily dressed, skirts
rolled up, the wrong shoes; these small rebellions
kept our sense of power afloat in a solid world;
one pierced eyebrow raised, sticking plaster
at a rakish angle, she uttered my name, and
I answered her, absent-mindedly flicking an
ant out of my long, brown, undyed hair; we
discussed the rules we didn’t think were fair.

Oasis blared out of the stereo in the gym as
we braced ourselves for the Bleep test.

We did not understand the maths equations;
we slogged our way through endless fountain
pens; we evacuated the science labs, purple
smoke billowing out; We enjoyed our fragile
little bubble, blissful in the mown grass, while
in the outside world, wars were fought to fill
the tanks of the four-by-fours that drove us
everywhere. We snuck beer out of our Dads’
fridges and sat in the gazebo in the park,
having climbed the fence after dark, and
pushed the corks in on wine bottles, giggling
over our fake IDs, glorying in being fourteen.

I don’t remember much of what I learnt at
school, but I remember being there.