The Wyld Girls

Chapter 7 - Michelle

Wyld Times, Episode 30

The elephant sways backward and forward in a small pen, its huge grey ears swinging listlessly, its eyes dull. Kylie pushes up on the metal fence, her small face creased in concern as she watches the giant animal sway repetitively. "She looks so sad, Bru. Is she sick?"

Bruce puts his foot up on the low bar of the dusty fence and leans on his knee with his elbow. "Kind of, kiddo. She's sick in the head."

Michelle chimes in. "Mali is a female Asian elephant. She was sold from the wildlife park she used to live in with a herd and moved to this small city zoo – on her own."

"She must be lonely," says Kylie.

"She is," Michelle agrees. "Asian elephants live in matriarchal herds – groups of mums and babies together. Mali lost her mum, her sisters and her kids when they moved her – and she's been so upset, she's developed some abnormal and unhealthy behaviours."

"It's call zoochosis," says Bruce, tipping up the brim of his Akubra hat. "It's a funny word, but it's no joke. When animals are kept isolated or don't have enough enrichment, the crazy comes out in lots of different ways. Pacing, swaying, biting the bars – and this one is super gross, Kyls – vomiting and eating the vomit over and over again!"

Bruce laughs loudly, but Kylie looks distressed. "Can't we help her, Bru?"

"We already have," says Michelle, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Wyld Times has bought Mali - and the rest of her herd – and we're going to reunite them at a new, purpose-built sanctuary in Thailand."

"Good," says Kylie. She hugs Michelle hard, pressing her tearful face into Michelle's shoulder. "Elephants aren't supposed to be alone. No one is."

It only takes a second from the 'oh no' moment when I realise I've fallen off the stage before I hit the water. Barely enough time to process what has happened: one moment, I'm getting ready to blow out candles, the next, I'm bracing for impact. I close my eyes and manage to take a breath at the last second.

Smack! The water envelops me, icy against my bare arms. It's summer, but we run chillers on the lagoon water to keep the seals and dolphins healthy. I'm not injured, just stunned. For a second – just a single selfish second – I debate sinking to the bottom of the pool and staying there. I'm not suicidal, just exhausted. If I was actually hurt, if I needed rescuing, I could let someone else take over for a while and I could just rest.

I open my eyes beneath the surface, and a memory assails me: another time, another place, cold water, and Bruce- where is Bruce? Bruce is nowhere. I'm alone. Alone in the cold and the dark. Alone.

No. I fight the memory, clawing my way back to the present. Enough. I set my self-pity and trauma aside. Kicking against the weight of my dress and shoes, I power upwards, stretching my face into a wide, comforting smile.

As I break the surface, I see Parker about to dive in after me, his features twisted in open fear. "I'm fine, everyone!" I sing gaily, as if falling on my ass into a pool dressed in evening wear is just a normal event for me. I wave at the phones and cameras aimed my way, laughing for the sake of the millions of people who will probably watch this clip online. I might not have control over what happened, but I do control how I react.

"Hey, Dell!" I slap the surface of the water to attract the attention of my favourite seal. The dolphins won't work unless there's food on offer – if you're drowning in the ocean, the whole saved-by-a-dolphin thing is a myth, they're more likely to wait until you sink to the bottom and then play with your corpse – but the seals are a bit more friendly.