Travelling the white line.

Groovy

I'm not sure if this is going to be a one-shot or not, but please let me know if you enjoy it!

*

The sound of familiar wind chimes and friendly chatter slowly drew me from my sweet slumber into the waking world. My long gypsy skirt had been hitched up around my knees while I’d stirred in the brown Volkswagon mini-bus that my family called home.

Sitting up slowly, I brushed my blonde hair from my eyes. The warm sun was just peeking through the surrounding trees and through the window. I pushed myself into a standing position, keeping my back bent so as not to hit the low roof. The air was warm inside the mini-bus, and I set my sights on the sliding door towards the front of the vehicle as I made my way outside.

I broke into the fresh, open air and smiled, examining my surroundings. Tall trees that filled the air with the scent of pine were adorned with golden sunlight. It was strange how the sun seemed more beautiful in some places than others. The ground beneath my bare feet was warm, rich earth, riddled with pine needles and grass. With a gasp of delight I set my sights on the calm, blue lake that was outstretched before me, just begging for its glassy surface to be broken.

“Celeste, over here!” I heard my fathers voice call. I turned to see him waving me over. I walked towards him, taking in the people who he stood with. My mother, who was slender and as beautiful as a fresh sunflower, stood with my father and three strangers I’d never seen.

“Finally woken up, I see.” My mother smirked, and turned her attention to a tall man with brown hair and a ruddy exterior. “This is our daughter, Celeste Moonchild.” She smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Celeste.” The man greeted me, his voice filled with the country twang that the locals possessed. “Miccah tells me you’re a singer.”

“When you’re on the road, you have time.” I laughed, returning the handshake I was offered. “What else did mum tell you about me?” I asked, slightly resenting my mother’s praise. I didn’t like when she told people about me; I preferred to keep to myself.

“Just that you liked to sing folk songs.” He smiled reassuringly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He put his hands on the two other strangers’ shoulders. “These are my boys, Leon and Drew. And I’m Bill.”

I smiled warmly, immediately taking a shine to this country family. Country folk had this sort of compliance and acceptance when it came to my family’s ‘hippy’ status and 100% hemp clothing. In the cities of Australia however, everywhere we went the upper-class business executives gave us funny, distrustful looks.

“Hi!” Drew grinned at me. He was around twelve years old, but was so tall for his age that he matched my 5”5 height. Needless to say, I wasn’t that tall anyway. I smiled in response. However, my eyes were affixed on Leon. Tall like his father and brother, Leon had hair the colour of  ash and eyes that matched the sparkling blue lake. He had a skinny build and the beginnings of facial hair, and I couldn't help but feel a strange tingle in my toes.

Living on the road my whole life with my parents, I wasn’t sure what classified as a cute guy, considering I’d never really mixed with boys my age. However, the funny flutter I felt in my chest made me certain that Leon was in the cute guy category.

“Barnaby,” Bill’s voice interrupted, referring to my father, “my wife and I always cook a meal for the new folks in town, even if they’re just passing through. Lake Flinders is known for being hospitable, and we try to keep that opinion valid. We’d be honoured if y’all would have dinner with us tonight.”

“That would be groovy.” My dad grinned, and his hazel eyes that matched mine twinkled with excitement. He ran a hand through his thick red beard. “Where do you live?”

“We own the only bait and tackle shop for thirty kilometres.” He smiled, “It’s just on the other side of the lake.”

“The only one in thirty kilometres?” Dad said, “I hope we don’t get lost!” The group of us laughed at my dads humour, or so I thought, until I glanced at Leon and saw he was looking beyond us. He wasn’t paying attention to anything that anyone had said. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about.

“We’ll see you at five o’clock then.” Said Bill, and parted with a friendly wave. He and his two sons got into their rusty Chevy truck and drove down the dusty road that led around the lake. They disappeared from view in the thick pine trees.

“Celeste, you should probably clean up before we go to the Mason’s house for dinner.” My mother said.

“The Masons?” I asked, “Who are the Masons?”

“We just met them, you duffer, you.” My mum laughed, using a strange slang word she picked up when she lived in Byron Bay, in New South Wales. I’m fairly certain I was born there, but the fact that I’ve lived all over Australia makes it hard to figure out where my birth took place. “Now go for a dip in the lake to clean off.”

“Okay.” I laughed, and skipped down to the lake. My parents’ voices became more distant as I found a small section of the lake that was obscure my trees. I slipped off my skirt and long-sleeved shirt and hung them over a tree branch. I looked around to make sure there were no prying eyes, and quickly slipped off my underclothes until I was wearing nothing but a Garnet ring that I had bought when I was seven at Coffs Harbour in Queensland (home of the Big Banana!) and slipped carefully into the water.

I swam through the crystal water, enjoying the feeling of the stones that lay dormant at the bottom of the lake. I stood on the tips of my toes, weightless in the deep water, and swam under water, eyes wide open, examining the rather large fish that darted away from me in fear.

I heard my fathers voice in the distance, and suddenly realised I’d been in the water for over an hour. My fingertips were shrivelled in the fresh water due to prolonged exposure.

“Celeste, it’s four thirty! Move it along!”

“Coming!” I called in response. I hurried out of the water and retrieved my clothes, pulling them on quickly. I hurried up to my parents and our Volkswagon and apologised. My mother shook her head.

“Don’t apologise, my sunflower, just hop in.” she smiled.

“Everyone ready?” my dad asked, sitting himself in the drivers seat. My mother and I confirmed our readiness, and my father started the engine. I clipped my seatbelt up and looked out the window, spying the bait and tackle shop between the trees across the lake.

My name is Celeste Rainbow Moonchild. I am sixteen years old, and I have lived on the road my whole life. I have blonde hair that was gifted to me by the gene pool of my mother, and hazel eyes that I inherited from my father. My laugh is like bells and my song is like that of a bird. I play the tambourine and dance to the sounds of nature.

And I call my brown Volkswagon mini-bus home.