TURBINE | KAPOHAU

Gretchen has a new idea. She says she talked about it with Katie. Katie is the other teacher aide. She also says she talked about it with the Ministry of Education. The idea is a Swiss ball. They are good for people like me. I’ve seen them on the infomercials on the TV when we watch it past the kids’ TV shows on Saturday morning. The people who use them look a lot older than me. Gretchen has the Swiss ball in the office where I do my exercises if it is autumn, or winter, or raining. Today it’s autumn and it’s raining and it’s colder than it should be. I shiver in my Pumpkin Patch cookware-covered leggings. I only like them because they are navy.   

Gretchen struggles with the half-inflated Swiss ball. She’s using a bicycle pump to blow it up between her legs. Her face looks really red, like she’s got bad sunburn. Her tummy is really big and it hits the ball every time she takes a stinky breath. She looks at me and looks happy to see me. This seems weird.  

‘Hey, I have an idea for you. Why don’t you give this a go? It’ll help with your exercises,’ she says.  

I think she’s telling a lie. I fold my arms across my chest and raise my eyebrow, like Mum does when Celine says she’s done her homework.  

‘Go on. Actually, this is part of your exercise so you’ve got to do it. Here. Hold the end, sit on the chair and use your arm to pump air in the ball. Switch arms when one hurts. You can do this,’ Gretchen says. She stands up and lifts one of her arms up, punching the air, before she says ‘ow’ and looks pained as it comes down. ‘I expect this to be pumped up by the time I’m back from the bathroom. You’ll get a stamp if you do.’ She leaves the office and I can hear her mutter under her breath, ‘I don’t get paid enough for this shit.’ 

I look at the ball. The bike pump sticks out of it like a needle before it’s injected into your skin. I sit on the hard plastic chair and start to pump. I get into a rhythm like we do in music class. I switch my arm every few pumps. The ball gets bigger slowly and then it is just above my hips when I stand up. Gretchen comes back into the office. She looks less red than before, like her sunburn is a few days old but her skin might still peel. She has bits of water on her face and carries a tall glass of water. She takes a slurp and nods at me like I’ve finally done something right.  

‘Good job,’ she says. She takes another slurp. And then looks at the ball and looks at me and I can see her thinking that the ball is quite a big ball.  

She mutters ‘Fuck’ under her breath. And then, ‘You didn’t hear me say that. Well, you’re growing fast anyway aren’t you. I really don’t want to have to fight the Ministry of Education for another smaller ball. This one already took six months to get.’ 

I nod. Gretchen finds the pin for the hole and straddles the Swiss ball. She quickly inserts the pin as she pulls out the pump at the same time. She grins and looks happy. She looks like she’s blown up the whole thing herself and not made me do it. I feel warmer now.  

‘Job well done. Now let’s see you get on the ball,’ she says.  

I try to hop on, stretching my left leg as high as it will go. My right leg wobbles as I put my weight on it to pull my left leg over the ball. I manage, but my feet barely hit the ground. Today my toes aren’t strong enough. I wibble and wobble like I’m a jack-in-the-box, until I go to the left and start to fall. I crash into the office desk by my side. Why do we have to do this in an office? My elbow hits the corner of the desk and I screech ‘Ow’ as I land on the carpet. The ball shoots out between my legs and hits the wall by the door with a soft thump. From where I lie, it looks like one of the big boulders that David has in his video games. 

There’s a knock on the door and Katie opens it from the outside and says, ‘Everything alright?’  

‘Yep. Almost sorted,’ Gretchen says, and goes outside to talk to Katie. She’s not as quiet as she thinks she is. I sit up, looking at the ball grumpily, when I hear her say to Katie ‘fuck sakes. Seven dollars fifty an hour for this shit.’ 

The Swiss ball is huge. It takes up a lot of the office, which we are using pretty much every time I have to do exercises because it’s really rainy this year. I walk past the office one day and see the deputy head teacher using it as a chair.  

I hear my teacher, also going past, say, ‘Oh the wonders of ergonomics.’  

‘And the wonders of the human mind when confronted with a space issue,’ the deputy head teacher replies.  

I pause and then carry on to the toilet where I sit and think. Even when I’m not trying, I still take up space.  

Gretchen and Katie are talking a lot about how to, ‘Maximise Hannah’s time on the Swiss ball.’ There is now a small chair to help me to hop on it, while one of them helps me to ‘stabilise my core’, which I think is my tummy. When they do this, I can almost comfortably sit on the ball. The plastic makes a painful sound against my leggings as I shift my bum. I’m always tired after these exercises. But no teacher notices, and I think I’d be told off if I complain or ask for a break, so I don’t. 

Gretchen and Katie discover that I like music, especially the Spice Girls and whatever is on RTR that week. Gretchen agrees to me doing the exercises to music, to help me enjoy it more. But I have to choose songs that she likes, too. This is hard. I bring CDs from home to play her. I had to go into Mum, Dad, Celine AND David’s CDs to find stuff that she could like. I wonder about asking her whether she could use some toothpaste, too, but think better of it. The more I did things Gretchen liked, the less she would take me out of reading and writing instead of maths. I start off by playing her Hanson. Her brow goes crooked and she winces like someone’s popped a balloon right by her ear.  

‘Absolutely not. Their voices are too squeaky,’ she says.  

I reply with, ‘They sound kinda like we do in assembly… but better.’ 

‘Exactly,’ Gretchen nods. ‘That’s why they’re a no. What else have you got?’ 

I sigh, and put on Five, from Celine’s collection. I switch to track one. Slam Dunk Da Funk starts playing.  

Gretchen starts to bop her head. 

‘Ooh yes, this was on the radio.’  

Her eyes widen. 

‘Mrs Westport mentioned you were doing some basketball. You could try some of those arm movements to the song.’  

I do as I’m told.  

A few weeks of this routine go by. I start to develop moves to each song, wondering what the singers from Five are saying with lights going out. Will and Luke were discussing sex at the playground the other day and how their parents said it made the best songs. The moves I do involve different parts of my body. Gretchen says it’s all to make my muscles stronger. I roll my hips to make my muscles stronger, lift my arms to make my muscles stronger, hold myself straight up and bounce my legs to… make my muscles stronger. It’s hard to see the point of all of this. As I bounce one day, with Keep On Movin’ playing, Gretchen and Katie chat just outside the office. I catch pieces of it.  

‘They say the kids in the class are asking questions about what she’s doing…’ Gretchen says. 

‘Yes. Grace’s Mum stopped me in the carpark the other day and asked whether she could get some exercises in too, doesn’t see why it should be one student,’ Katie replies.  

‘Grace is normal though… surely she can see that…’ 

‘Parents and their need for special treatment though…’

‘Well, what could we do? It’s not like Hannah and her classmates are going to confidently relay the ins and outs of her condition…’ 

‘I know…’ 

They both peer around the door to check that I’m still moving, frowning slightly. This happens when they talk about me. They go back behind the door.  

‘She could do a performance you know. For the class. Show them what she’s been working on,’ Katie says.  

A performance? Me? Swiss ball? Please be joking, like David. They stick their heads back in the door.  

‘Hannah. You can do a performance! It’s going to be to Slam Dunk Da Funk. It’s the only song I can still tolerate,’ Gretchen says.  

I look down at the carpet and suck in my cheeks. I’ve stopped bouncing.  

‘It’ll be a great learning experience for you and the class,’ Katie says. 

I don’t think I can argue. I can’t argue.  

I’m up facing the class, sitting on top of the Swiss ball. I hate this ball now.  

‘I know you’ve all been curious about what Hannah’s been up to. It’s so great to see what she’s learnt and be aware of the diversity in the class,’ Mrs Holland, our teacher, says. 

Gretchen presses play and switches to the right track. I start bouncing and waiting for the music. My arms move without me telling them to, to the music. I pump them up, out, in, up. The class is silent in front of me. Someone is giggling. Possibly Georgia. Some of my classmates look uncomfortable. I feel uncomfortable. I know the song is three minutes and thirty-eight seconds long. But how long is that really? 

Five asks us about being freaky. I feel freaky.  

Five asks us to put our hands up. I put my hands up like I’m shooting hoops.  

Five asks us about getting down. I do want to be off this ball and with my classmates.  

Five asks us to clap our hands and move our feet. I clap my hands and move my feet. How much longer? 

Five asks us to get down one last time. I stop. Everyone is silent. Gretchen turns off the CD player before When the Lights Go Out plays too much further.  

Mrs Holland looks at me and then the class. She says, ‘Well done, Hannah. So good to see all of this come to fruition. You’re looking… stronger! Right, class? Let’s give her a big hand.’  

The class start to clap. No one has seen something like this before. We don’t know what to do. I smile awkwardly as I hop off the Swiss ball.  

Gretchen rolls the ball away and gives me a pat on the shoulder as she leaves, ‘Well done, kiddo. See you next week. Enjoy Maths.’