“Goodnight my little puffin”
One sunny Thursday afternoon July skipped from school. She dodged the smudged chewing gum blots on the pavement and hummed the tune of the yellow submarine.
She had an anxious look on her face as she thought back to period 3, her art teacher; Miss Thompson had exclaimed that July had a ‘character’. Ms. Thompson had an urge to do these sorts of things, last week she had told Lilly Thompson her hair was like a golden reef, and the only fault with this was that Lilly was a brunette.
Every day, after school July walked down to the shops on Cuba Street , she’d pop into all the beauty pharmacies and use a drop of tester perfume that stings as it enters your nose but smells as sweet as lavender. July would go through the same routine every day, she would buy a frozen raspberry fanta from an almost always crowded McDonalds, then she would browse the old vintage op shops – July had made up her mind that there was no point buying anything from a store that sells brand new clothing, because everyone ended up with the same outfit. And lastly, after two hours of wondering through shops, July would enter her favourite bookstore, the sign above her head dangling with a glorious title in scripted: ‘Sumner’s books’. The shop sold brand new and old books, explaining why July loved it so much, books were dirt cheap.
As July entered the shop, the bell dangling as she closed the door, a smell of dust and old paper filled her nostrils and a giant smile spread across her face, this made July’s eyes twinkle and sparkle. This was July’s home, July’s place. She walked down the isle and pulled out a musty edition of peter pan, the puffin logo still gleaming from the old light bulb above July’s head, despite the dust and the ancient look of the paperback. July collapsed on an old sofa at the back of the store and lost herself in the book. Peter Pan was soaring in the sky when Mrs. Sumner shuffled past pushing an old supermarket trolley packed with books with split binding. July took a glance at the old plastic clock over by the purple bookshelf with new lonely planet guides. It was 6.00pm. July walked up to the counter, covered in sticky notes and price stickers ready to go on books. She let out a tired yawn stretching her arms behind her back. Mrs Sumner emerged from the back room and July placed the crumbling peter pan book on the only bit of spare space on the crowded counter.
Mrs. Sumner went to a lot of trouble inspecting the book for its worth, flicking through for any missing pages, and she even duck taped the side of the book to prevent anything bad happening to the book in future. Mrs. Sumner tapped the space bar a couple of times on the old humming computer then told July she could have it for 30 cents. July fumbled through her shirt pocket and eventually retrieved the correct amount.
July walked out of Sumners books clamping her book to her chest as though she was hiding a winning lottery ticket within the faded pages. July slumped onto a bench with pealing paint and began the treacherous wait for the number 24 bus. Hundreds of people waltzed past, each of them doing their own proud and beautiful dance. The men, in their fancy business suits and gleaming gold watches reminded July of Captain Hook, Tall and proud. The woman with their high heels that stretched up to the sky were like Tinker bell, off on a mission for Peter Pan. Some had a cell phone glued to their ear, speaking an alien language only someone as intelligent as Peter could understand.
July loved the city. The lights, the freedom, the buzz… Far better then being at home where Julys mum and dad argued through the walls night and day. The only thing July loved more then the city was her books. Under her creaky old bed at home was a cardboard box piled with puffin books Mrs. Sumner had given her dirt cheap.
The bus pulled up and July clambered on. Her ticket reeled out of the machine and July stuffed it into her pocket, adding to the growing collection of bus tickets. She sat next to a twenty year old something man with orange spiky hair and an ACDC t-shirt. Muffled heavy metal rock music flowed into Julys ears from spiky hair guy’s earphones. July opened her book to the page she was on, marked by the receipt from Mrs. Sumner. July escaped yet again and followed the lost boys through the jungle. The bus ride was over by 7pm.
Her father had crashed on the sofa, the TV still buzzing with ‘Close up’. July paced down the dimly lit hallway to her bedroom, consisting of a simple crumbling fireplace and a wobbly bed perfect for the earthquake game.
July crouched down on her knees and heaved the Bonita banana box from under her bed. The sides were splitting, revealing many layers of thin paper. The box was overflowing, each still with the puffin logo gleaming. After checking on her beloved storybooks given to her at Christmas time two years ago by Aunt Lou, July pulled Peter Pan from her packed schoolbag and continued her adventure through never land. Captain Hook was so close, Peter pan pulled off a daring flip and Tinker Bell is only moments away from drinking the fatal poison. “I believe in fairies” July chanted. “I believe in fairies. I believe in Fairies” Peter pan was chanting too. “We believe in fairies”. July’s voice gathered speed. The door snapped open and July hurriedly clicked the torch off. The light went. July continued whispering, only quiet enough for her to hear. Her mum shuffled over to her bed, coughing hoarsely with every step. “I believe in fairies”.
“Goodnight my little puffin”.
Written by Eva Wyles
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