When Storm Clouds Hover

50: Izzy - At rowing

Some weeks later, Izzy leaned her head against the glass, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun as it blazed through the front window of the school bus on the way to rowing. The girls' off-key rendition of Adele's Rolling in the Deep barely met her conscious mind.

'Earth to Izzy?' a voice probed.

'Let her be.' Tal said.

Izzy dragged her eyes from the window. She'd been watching the fields fly by, seeking solace in a rare period of calm.

Cole was peering at her, with that concerned look she'd grown to hate. Everyone seemed to have it these days. Izzy averted her eyes.

'Iz,' Tal leaned forward, touching her on the shoulder. 'We'll be there soon - you good to go, love?'

'I'm there.' Izzy was suddenly energized. Checking her face in the reflection of the window, she slid her feet into her thongs and fixed her gaze forward.

The bus turned and bumped its way down the gravel road towards the rowing club. As the singing petered off, eager students reached beneath their seats, fumbling for shoes.

Izzy stood up, steadying herself on the railing. When the bus ground to a halt, she was first to clamber down the stairs.

Outside it was still sweltering hot. The sun, low in the sky, cast long shadows, as the animated teens scrambled off the bus. Then, carrying their sports bags, they made their way down the foot-trampled path to the boathouse, swooped by myna birds from the boughs of the Eucalypt trees, along the way.

'Who's swimming today?' Tal asked.

'The winners!' Cole shouted. 'In other words - not the laa..dies.'

'Actually, we're in mixed boats today.' Izzy was always prepared to correct a wrong.

'No one's swimming,' their coach began, in a stern voice.

'Listen to the man, people!' Tal joked.

And everyone laughed.

It seemed strange to Izzy that she could laugh.

Since her Mum had died, it was as if nothing had changed. Even though she knew something monumental had shifted, it was like she couldn't allow herself to feel properly. Getting through the day was an exercise in self-preservation. It had to be enough for her to get up every morning and go through the motions at school.

As they neared the shore, the light caught the waves and danced its way across the river mouth. Izzy longed to be out on the water.

'Shotgun stroke!' Cole ran towards the stern of the boat.

'I'll be cox,' said Zara.

'I'll be the judge of who goes where,' their coach insisted.

The crew fell into line, lifting, flipping, and carrying the sleek rowboats down to the shore like an army of ants. As she entered the water, the icy cold splashing against her warm calves quickened her heartbeat. She gasped to catch a breath as she waded into the waterway, pushing the boat against the current, liquid mud squelching between her toes.

Izzy realized that the teachers looking out for her would think she was doing fine. She could do things like this, and her homework wasn't slipping. She could even do the mundane chit-chat when other people were around, but it was all held together by a gossamer thread. The scales could tip at any moment.

Coach's instructions wafted over the water amplified by the cox vox speaker. Izzy prepared herself for the race, concentrating on holding the boat in line. Even in informal races like this, the boys could be competitive. They wouldn't tolerate a slacker.

Suddenly, the sound of a horn blasted through the wind. The boat lurched forward, and in no time at all, the rhythm of the race kicked in.

The smooth fiberglass hull slipped through the inky water like an arrow towards its target as her crew cut and pulled against the current.

Izzy's boat took the early lead and hung on. She heard nothing but the rush of blood between her ears for the length of the race. She gave everything she had. Her aching thighs and jelly arms provided a welcome relief from the emptiness inside of her. As they crossed the finish line, her elated crew collapsed into the boat. They'd won, only just!

Ignoring their coach's protestations, they all flipped their legs over the side of the boat and slipped into the water.

Could it be right to feel good? Izzy asked herself as she closed her eyes and permitted her exhausted body to sink into the cool depths.

Whenthey were done swimming, Izzy made her way to the boathouse change room asquickly as possible, squeezing the water from her polo shirt, and watching itsplash onto the dusty earth. The sun was setting behind the hills now, castingthe bush into darkness. Convinced she could feel Cole's eyes on her, Izzybecame self-conscious of the wet shirt clinging to her figure. Not for thefirst time, she wished Cole liked Tal and not her. His attention was making heruncomfortable, and Tal liked him so much.