Borders Hill

Bobbie came over to me and touched me nicely, made the back of my neck and my arms wet with his mouth. I was trying not to think a the birds above us, like butterflies beating 'gainst a wall. When he was moving on top a my back I liked it, a lot, 'till he got up and pushed the pile a birds over with his stick, came back down on me. I didn't like it all that much then.

If I'd'a been older maybe I wouldn't'a had sex with Bobbie. If I was curvier, browner, had golden lights in my hair like all the girls at school had, maybe I wouldn't'a done it. But I didn't have lights in my hair. And I did want it.

We were younger than we shoulda been, but Ma always said you're always too young when you do stupid things. And I don't think I did a stupid thing, I just didn't think everyone would get so mad.

Bobbie said Borders Hill was where birds flew around trees and went to die. I said he was lying, he said he wouldn't lie to me, and I remember his hands on my cheek, big like his Pa's, and his cat eyes, and he whispered something, but it was too quiet to hear.

We went up to Borders Hill after school, when Ma was taking my baby brother to the tooth doctor for his wobbly teeth, and Pa was still working in the city. Bobbie said we'd have plenty a time to see the flying birds and I thought yes, yes we would.

Borders Hill was cold. I could hear these beating wings and singing leaves in the wind, and it seemed to make it colder. The trees were big and dark, space enough between them so these birds could fly around like bees.

Borders Hill

Bobbie said he'd seen loadsa birds fall from the sky up here, but I didn't see one fall. Not one. I said that to him and he told me I wasn't looking, and when I said the same again he wouldn't answer me.

Some a the birds had these green wings, like duck breasts, and I followed them in the sky with my finger. Bobbie zipped between the trees, making these siren noises like he was an ambulance. Sometimes he'd bend down, flick some a the birds over with a stick and put his ear against their little chests, tapping the ground with his free hand.

Then I saw these birds, all piled on top of the other, like someone put em there. The smallest on top, like a family. I was sitting near em. The littlest bird had these dead legs curled up like spiders. The one at the bottom was the same colour as Ma's piano. I felt sad for them. I felt sad on Borders Hill. Later, when I told Ma this, she said it's 'cause I didn't like Bobbie. I disagree.