just_a_girl by Kirsten Krauth Page B

her brain is a scratchedrecord that keeps jumping to the same place. I’ve never seen a record player. But dad tells me this is what happens. They get stuck in a groove all the time.
    Once Granny was reading a magazine out loud to me. She was sitting in the sunroom. She said, Oh look, here’s a test to see if you have Alzheimer’s. She’s always paranoid about getting dementia. She used to do sudoku and word puzzles in the paper every day. So she sits down and does the test. Murmurs the questions and answers aloud. Adds up the score in her head. Oh, I haven’t done too badly at all. Nothing to worry about there. She keeps reading her magazine. Then 10 minutes later she says, Look, Layla, here’s a test to see if you have Alzheimer’s. And she goes through the questions again. She does the same test all morning. But she passes it every time.
    Granny’s favourite stories are about trains and the war:
    Story 1: Granny was catching a train after seeing her boyfriend off on a ship. This was granddad. He’s dead now. She had travelled to London. Huddled in a corner silently weeping. Trying not to let others see. A large hand reached out and patted her knee. There there, lassie, he said. It’ll be okay, he’ll be back.
    How did you know?, my granny asked him.
    Oh, I see girls like you on the train every day.
    Story 2: Granny was staying with relatives and heard an air raid siren. They all went down to the train station. Into the tunnel at night. Deep underground. Many women were carrying little bundles. Tiny babies wrapped up against the cold. They were lining the walls rocking their babies. Of course it was the safest place for them. And the funny thing was, no-one was afraid, no, there was lots of joy. We all sat there singing. And it was like being at Church. None of the babies were crying. If you had a child under six you were given a big steel-topped table. By the government. As big as a double bed. To hide under when the bombs came.
    Story 3: Granny was sitting with her cousins on the train to Liverpool. Across from her on the seat, a couple were going at it hammer and tongs. Having sex there, right in front of me. Hammer and tongs. During The War. That’s what it was like, she said.
    Granny likes to try and shock me but it never works.
    Davo always wants to have sex on trains. He’s tried to drag me into the loo a few times. But only when his mates are there. I go along with it. But hello! I’m not having my first time there. In the stink of male piss. Tampon wrappers straying on a broken sink.
    Sometimes on Fridays if it’s hot we sneak off early from school. To the bright sands of Coogee. I’ve got a new bikini. It’s red with little white stripes. From Penrith to Central he begs me. To have sex on the beach with him. Sex on the beach, sexonthebeach, sexon on on, on and on. That’s the thing with Davo. He gets something fixed in his mind. There’s no hearing the end of it. He’s stuck like a broken record too.
    And for the record, I don’t do it. He never talks to me on the trip back.

    I have a favourite game on the train trip home from school. I sit opposite an older guy. Businessman type. The kind who commutes for a hundred grand a year. I slowly unwrap a Chupa Chup. I only like those ones withvanilla. I put it in my mouth. Oh-so-slowly and lick and twist and turn. Oh-so-slowly, lick and twist and suck and turn. I take it out and make eye contact quickly. Then look out the window and continue. Twist. Turn. I do it soooo innocently as if caught in some girly dream. As any schoolgirl would. I lean over and pull up my socks. Smooth my checked uniform. Hitch it up a notch. He can’t keep his eyes off my mouth. He is completely drawn in by me. He thinks I am tasting him. He wants me all to himself. He wants me to twirl and twist and turn for him. He can’t wait. And he can’t help himself. He thinks about my lips as his daughter opens the front door. Wearing the same school uniform. My favourite part is