Authors: Abby Wilder
Forever Blue (15 page)
I crossed my arms and glared at her. "What did you say to Judah?"
Lennon
The Deacons lived in a sprawling house close enough to the lake to be exposed to picturesque views of the rippling blue water and the mountains that rose on the far side. Mum, Grams, Flynn and I arrived fashionably late and the scent of dinner drifted out to greet us. We walked around the side of the house and stood on the deck with Mr Deacon so Grams could finish her cigarette. Mum was nervous. She fidgeted, worrying at the edges of her top with her fingers. Flynn reached out and stilled them. Even though Aunt Deb was the one who set them up, this was their first appearance at a family get-together.
"Ladies! How nice to see you," Mr Deacon said from his place watching over the leg of lamb roasting on the barbeque. "Flynn." He stepped forward and shook Flynn's hand before handing him a beer. Even though I called Sienna's mother Aunt Deb, I could never bring myself to call Winston Deacon anything other than Mr Deacon.
"Beaut evening, isn't it? Couldn't ask for a better view." Mr Deacon waved his arm out to where the lake peeked between the roofs of the houses in front. The reflection of the tree covered mountains rippled on the surface.
Sienna's little brother, Phoenix, walked through the open sliding door and onto the deck. He was younger than Sienna, and a lot smaller too. His looks took after the Waine side of the family, our mothers' side, whereas Sienna's appearance leaned more to the Deacons. He was thin and wiry with a mop of strawberry blonde hair swept to the side, which he continuously flicked out of his beady eyes. We didn't like each other. He thrived on tormenting Sienna and me, hiding under Sienna's bed to listen in on our conversations, or following Sienna around, copying her every word, her every move, until she screamed in frustration. Mr Deacon never saw it, though. He was blind when it came to his son.
"Get the ladies a drink, Phoenix. And say hello to your Grams."
Phoenix looked up, scowled and jerked the device in his hands at his father. At the age of thirteen, he somehow managed to be the ruler of the household. Grams wandered over and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, knowing how much it would annoy him, and declared she was going inside to make a cup of tea, discarding her unfinished cigarette into the garden, much to Mr Deacon's disapproval.
"It's okay, Mr Deacon. I can get my own," I said, poking my tongue out at Phoenix and slipping into the house.
"I thought I heard your voice." Sienna skipped down the stairs. She was wearing a slinky black dress and a gold headpiece that wove snakes through her hair. On her feet, she had diamante encrusted sandals. She looked gorgeous. And cold. I was wearing jeans and a jacket, knowing how cold it would get down by the lake later on, and my hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail.
Sienna walked through the lounge, her little dog, Tinks, trotting behind her, passed the enormous flat screen TV and up the couple of steps that was the only separation between the lounge and the kitchen.
"Diet coke?" Her hand hovered on the fridge door.
"No angel this year?" I asked.
Sienna flicked her hair over her shoulder. "Heroes are so last year. This year, I'm all about the villain." She reached into the fridge and pulled out the bottle. Everything in the Deacon household was diet something, much to Mum's disgust. She didn't cook often, but when she did, everything was organic and natural.
Aunt Deb turned to face me. Dressed all in white—tight white pants, tight white top, and a gold chain dangling around her waist—she wiped her hands on the tea towel flung over her shoulder. A giant bowl of beetroot salad sat beside her and I wondered how she managed to keep so clean. "Lennon! How are you?"
"Great thanks, Aunt Deb."
"How are you finding school? All settled in?"
Even though I had been at the school for months, Aunt Deb still asked this question every time I came over. I wasn't sure what she was waiting for, as my answer was always the same. Short, sweet, and nothing near the truth. "Great, thanks."
"I really don't know how she would have managed without me." Sienna grinned and handed me a glass of coke. "Come on." She jerked her head towards the stairs. "I've got something to show you."
I followed, taking careful sips from the glass which she had filled too high. The Deacons' house was painted in creams and whites. The only thing that separated Sienna's room from the rest of the house was the pink with gold polka-dot curtains that she had chosen when the house was built five years ago. And the chaotic mess that adorned the bed, chairs and floors. Fashion magazines lay strewn over her desk and a large poster of the latest winner of a modelling reality show posing with an elephant covered one wall. Other images had been torn from the magazines and stuck to the walls.
"Love what you've done with the place," I said dryly.
She waved her hand towards the images dramatically. "Photography."
I waved towards the polka dots framing the window. "Curtains."
Sienna sighed. "Photography, it's my passion. I'm going to be a photographer."
Sienna flicked from hobby to hobby, or, as she referred to them, from passion to passion. Last month she had been convinced she was to become a pop star. She took singing lessons for all of two weeks before claiming that the tutor simply didn't get her style. I wondered how long this passion would last.
I stared at the awkward angles of the girl spread over the back of the elephant. She wore a skirt that flowed down to her ankles but still showed her midriff. The exotic orange material clashed with the puckered skin of the animal. "Fashion photography?"
"Exactly." Sienna walked over to her wardrobe and started pulling out various outfits, holding them against me and squinting as if she could picture what they'd look like. "I need a model."
I laughed, pushed a pile of clothes off the bed and sat. "Well look somewhere else. I'm not model material."
Sienna dragged me to my feet, ignoring my protests. "Nonsense. With a little makeup," she tilted her head from side to side as if somehow the change in angle might alter my appearance, "and a little editing and lighting, you could look stunning. You've got that whole coat hanger thing that fashion models have going on."
"Coat hanger thing?"
She nodded. "You know, a body to hang the clothes off, a skinny body that will fit the clothing samples, and you've already got the 'no smile, I'm so bored' pout down."
I groaned. "Please stop. I can't handle this much flattery."
Sienna discarded the outfit she was holding up and grabbed another.
"I'll never fit your clothes," I said.
Sienna frowned. "I give you clothes all the time."
"And do you ever see me wearing them?"
"Come to think of it, I don't." She threw the outfit onto the floor and put her hands on her hips. "Why not? I know it's not because you've got anything better to wear." Her eyes scanned my outfit dubiously, and for a fraction, just a fraction, I wanted to cover myself.
"You're all curves where I'm straight lines, or as you put it, a coat hanger. We hardly suit the same style," I said.
Sienna narrowed her eyes but seemed to accept my explanation. I didn't want her to know the truth. I didn't want to be seen dead in her hand-me-downs. It was one thing to walk in her shadow, it was another to walk in her castoffs. Petty of me, I know.
"So," I said, letting the word hang.
"So," Sienna mimicked.
"I've arranged for a couple of other people to come along to the bonfire with us."
Sienna shrugged and held another outfit against me, screwing up her nose. "The more the merrier, I say." Then she froze. "Unless it's Judah Mitchell. Please, do not tell me it's Judah Mitchell." I looked at her hesitantly, but she kept on talking. "Or worse, Cara Armistead. I am not going anywhere with your new formed step-sister." She shook her head vehemently. "Please tell me you haven't agreed to take Cara Armistead with us."
I winced and nodded. "And Judah."
Sienna threw the dress to the floor. "Are you serious? What is wrong with you? The two people in this entire town I would like to avoid the most, something which I believe I've told you, like, a million times, and you go ahead and invite them." She shook her head dismally. "Don't come running to me when they conspire together and your body is discovered hanging from the rafters in some abandoned shed."
"That's it?" I asked.
"What's it?"
"That's the whole story?"
She sat down beside me on the bed. "That's all I've got today." She pressed her hand to the sides of her neck and forehead. "Maybe I'm coming down with something." She flopped back onto the bed. "Ross and I kissed."
"What? When?" I felt a little ashamed I didn't know.
"Three days ago."
"And you're just telling me now?"
She opened her eyes and glared. "You haven't exactly been around. He came over the other night, no invitation or anything, just turned up. I mean, we were texting and stuff, but then suddenly he was just there on my doorstep and he was all, like, 'we've got to stop playing these silly games,' and then he came in and we ended up making out, right here on the bed."
I stood up.
"And then he hasn't called or text or even spoken to me since. Who does that? Who makes out with the person they have been flirting with for years, and then doesn't call?" She flung her arm over her face. "What do I do? Do I call him? Do I confront him? Or do I just pretend it never happened? Screw this! Screw this actually liking someone thing. If I didn't like him, this simply wouldn't be a problem. Why do I like him, Lennon? Why?"
I screwed up my face. "Don't ask me. You're the one that likes him, not me."
"But he's all kinds of wrong. I mean, have you seen the car he drives? It makes Elmo look good. And he's not even good-looking!" When I raised my eyebrows sceptically, she added, "Okay, so he is good looking, but he's got those annoyingly thick eyebrows. I mean for goodness sake, has the boy never heard of tweezers? And that annoying smile. Who does he think he is, smiling at me like that?"
"Is he going to be there tonight?"
"I don't know," she wailed. "I haven't heard from him, remember?"
"Well, maybe he'll see you there with all of us and be jealous."
"Jealous? Of you, Judah and Cara? Please. What has become of my life?"
Lennon
It was an awkward drive. Sienna, for once, didn't say a thing. She sat in the passenger's seat and pouted. Cara was fine until we pulled up the Mitchells' driveway. "What are we doing here?" she asked.
I cleared my throat as I opened the door. "I invited Judah to come along."
"You what?" she said, her eyes growing wide and mean.
I ignored her and knocked on the front door. Mrs Mitchell answered. She peered at me, faint recognition passing over her face before leaning back into the house and yelling for Judah. "You're new to town, aren't you?" she asked.
I got sick of explaining that I had lived here for months, so I just nodded.
"You're Shelley's girl."
I nodded again and Judah came to the doorway. He grinned, and it occurred to me that it was the first time I had seen him smile properly, as though he was happy and not just out of amusement. His mum kissed him on the cheek and they shared a silent exchange before he shut the door.
"Is he here?" he whispered.
"So you believe me now?"
"His name was traced in the dust. You didn't even walk over to the windowsill. I don't know what I believe, but I believe something." His eyes scanned the car and he froze. "Cara."
I kept walking. "Ruben's idea."
Sienna tilted the seat forward but didn't get out, leaving a tight fit for Judah to squeeze into the back beside Cara. He looked over the roof of the car, lifting his eyebrows. "How about we take mine?"
"I'm not getting in that car," Cara said bluntly. "They should have left it at the bottom of the lake." Her long limbs were crushed behind my seat and she refused to look at Judah.
I pulled the release so my chair sprung forward. "Come on."
Cara shook her head. "I'm not getting in that car. I don't know why he even kept it after what happened."
"I kept it because of what happened," Judah muttered.
Sienna groaned loudly. "It's just a stupid car." She got out and stalked past Judah and over to where the big car was parked in the garage.
"Who are you supposed to be?" Judah asked, looking over her outfit.
Sienna struck a pose and tugged on one of the gold snakes in her hair. "Medusa," she snapped. "Well? Are we doing this, or not?"
Cara climbed out, still refusing to look at Judah and got into the back seat beside Sienna silently.
"Is he here?" Judah asked again, holding the door open.
I shook my head and slid into the bench seat. "Later."
Judah revved the engine, but instead of taking off at his usual pace, with stones spitting, he drove quietly down the driveway, glancing in the rear vision mirror, trying to catch Cara's eye.
Cara reached into her pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, holding one between her lips and fumbling with the lighter.
"I didn't know you smoked," Sienna said.
"I don't," Cara shot back. She flicked the lighter a number of times before it finally ignited and she held it to the tip.
"It's a disgusting habit," Sienna said, wrinkling her nose and winding down the window as Cara blew smoke in her face.
"Want one?" Cara leaned forward and stretched her arm over Judah's shoulder, offering him the packet. He froze under her touch, and she snapped, "I'm just offering you a stupid cigarette. Don't get your hopes up."
"I don't smoke anymore," he said gruffly.
Cara laughed. "Since when?"
"Since then."
She didn't say any more.
We pulled into a spare space of road alongside the lake and wandered over to where the bonfire was blazing on the beach. Phoenix ran past with a couple of his friends, clutching onto a water pistol. A stream of water squirted over Sienna. She screamed and grabbed for his shirt, but he was too quick and ran away laughing. "Idiot! Count yourselves lucky you don't have any annoying siblings."
The words sat heavy in the air.
"Shit," Sienna said. "Sorry." She didn't direct the apology at anyone in particular. It could have been for any of us.
I looked over the crowd for Ruben. I hadn't seen him all day and it seemed strange to be without him this long. A Ruben sized piece of me was missing. Of course, it was easier being around other people without him. The constant confusion of his presence was draining.
The carnival was open for the first night of the season and the Ferris wheel moved slowly, people shouting and waving from the top, occasionally throwing rubbish down to the ground. The merry-go-round's bright lights seemed to mock the forlorn faces of the horses frozen in motion, and every now and again the howl of the ghost train split the air. We stood around the bonfire, watching the flames and smoke curl above the crowd. No one said a word.
When Sienna couldn't stand the silence any longer, she said, "Well, this has been fun, truly, but the night beckons."
I suddenly dreaded the thought of being alone with Judah and Cara and clutched her arm. "Don't go," I hissed.
Sienna peeled my fingers off. "This is your party," she said. "I've got someone to find." She slipped into the crowd and I stepped closer to the bonfire, Sienna's departure leaving me cold. I wrapped my arms around myself and rubbed vigorously, trying to will some warmth into them. But my arms got tired, and I was left with the dilemma of feeling warm and worn, or cold.
Cara lit another cigarette and pressed it between her lips. Judah stood, hands stuffed into his pockets, beanie pulled low over his head. His gaze alternated between the ground and Cara, who, if she caught him looking, would narrow her eyes and glare at him coldly until he looked away.
The heat from the flames danced over the exposed skin of my face and I huddled even closer, stuffing my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket. The relief I felt when I saw Ruben weaving his way through the crowd was immense. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but instead, I stood still and let him come over and slip his hand into the pocket of my jacket and entwine his fingers in mine.
"How is it going?" he whispered.
I shook my head slightly and risked a brief glance his way. Standing next to Judah, I couldn't see how anyone could ever confuse the two, though Cara said it happened. Judah was hunched and unsure. Everything about him echoed defeat. Ruben was beginning to shed that aura of loneliness that used to hang off him like a dark shadow. His eyes were lighter, happier, and his smile was quick and easy. I squeezed his hand. Judah caught my eye and looked over questioningly. I nodded, and the faintest trace of relief crossed his features.
"Tell her," Ruben urged.
I stood between Cara and Judah, feeling like the third wheel on an already awkward date. I cleared my throat but the words wouldn't come out, because I didn't know which ones to use.
"Just say it," Cara said bluntly.
"Say what?" I asked, a little startled by her directness.
"Whatever it is you want to say. There has to be a reason you dragged me here with him, and I refuse to believe you're stupid enough to think just because we are within speaking distance, I'll somehow forget everything that's happened and forgive him for killing my sister."
"I didn't," Judah said quietly.
"So you keep saying," Cara shot back. She took a final drag on the cigarette, drawing from it every breath of poison she could, threw it down, and ground it into the stones with her foot. "Are you two dating, or what?"
"Us?" Judah exclaimed. "Lennon and me?"
"Yes, Lennon and you. Do you want my permission or something? Is that what this is about? Is this some twisted sense of duty you've got to me? Because I never had feelings for you. It was always Ruben. But you know that, don't you?" She took a step closer to him, her grin almost sinister. "Or is it because you're still harbouring guilt over calling my sister a—what was it you called her right before you ran her over—a skank?"
"Cara," Judah pleaded.
She shook her head. "I can't do this. Look, Lennon, I know our parents are dating and all that, but I really think it would be best if we just kept it to the minimum amount of contact required. I don't know what you see in him. I don't know what lies he's told you to make you think he's not guilty, but he is. He killed my little sister. He knows it, I know it, and Ruben knew it. The guilt of it nearly killed him." She snorted and turned to face Judah again. "Well, it did kill him. Or was that you too?"
"Judah and I are not dating. We never have been," I said, still a little surprised she would even think so, considering the body language between Judah and me.
Cara began to walk away. "I don't care. Do whatever you want, just don't involve me with anything to do with him."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I brought you here to tell you something about Ruben."
Cara turned around slowly, walking back and stopping with her face only inches away from mine. "And what would you know about Ruben?"
"A lot, it turns out," Judah said.
Cara shot him a death glare. "I wasn't talking to you."
Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin to look her in the eye. "Stop talking to him like that."
Cara crossed her arms and jutted out her hip. "Why?"
I closed my eyes when I told her. I didn't want to see the disbelief, or the accusatory look that I knew would follow. "Because Ruben doesn't like it. I can communicate with him."
Cara scoffed. "Like some sort of psychic?"
I opened my eyes again and took hold of her reasoning. Psychic sounded a lot less crazy than 'I see dead people', or rather, 'dead person.' "Sort of," I said.
Cara pressed her lips together until they turned white. "And what does spirit Ruben say to you? That I'm wrong? That Judah is innocent in all this?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"And is it just Ruben you can see, or is it all dead people? Because I'd sure love a word with my sister or my mother. They're both dead. You know that, right?" she spat.
"It's just Ruben."
"Of course it is. Convenient." She turned to walk away again.
"She doesn't believe you," Ruben said, following her with his eyes.
"Would you?" I replied.
"Would I, what?" Cara asked, turning back to look at me.
"Believe me?" I said, scrambling to say something that would make sense.
Cara laughed again. "Sure, why not? I'll believe that for some reason Ruben is talking from beyond the grave, and for some unfathomable reason, he's chosen you to talk to. What is he saying? What desperate message does he want to impart?"
"Cara—" Judah started.
But Cara whirled around to face him, anger flashing through her eyes. "You don't get to speak to me!" she yelled. "Ever!" She turned to me, walking up so her face was so close I could see the darkness of her pupils dilate. "Do you know what night this is? Do you know that on this night a year ago, he—" She jerked her head at Judah. "He decided that despite having lost his license for drunk driving, despite having drank that night, to climb into the driver's seat and run over my little sister? But he didn't kill her, not then, anyway. No, she was left there to die. She was injured, lying in the dirt, unable to move. They say her head was tilted into the ditch on the side of the road, but she was awake. She was conscious." Tears gathered in her eyes and she wiped them away angrily with the palms of her hands, determined not to let weakness show. "It was raining that night, raining so hard that the ditch filled with water fast. She had to lie there, in pain, desperately hoping that someone would come along and find her before the water reached her mouth and nose." She wasn't hiding her tears anymore. They fell freely down her face as fat pearls which caught the reflection of the flames from the bonfire. She was yelling, but her voice was hoarse and torn. "But no one did. She lay there as the water crept over her lips, her nose. She drowned. Just like Ruben, she drowned. So don't you talk to me, Judah Mitchell, don't you ever talk to me."
Judah reached out and rested his hand on her arm gently. "Please, Cara, just listen to Lennon. I don't know what she sees, what she can hear, but she knows things that only Ruben would know."
Cara jerked away from his touch. "Didn't you listen to a word I said? I wish that it was you who died that night. I wish that Ruben was still here because he would tell the truth. He would tell you that he told me you drove. That's how I know. So," Cara turned to me, "if you can really talk to Ruben, ask him. Ask him who was driving that night."
Ruben turned cold and took a step away.
"Ruben?" I asked.
"Well?" Cara demanded. "What's he saying? Ruben?" she yelled into the crowd. A few people turned to look at her with her arms open, head thrown back. "Ruben!" she yelled again, the grin on her face almost maniacal as she twirled under the moonlight.
Ruben stumbled backwards, his face deathly white.
"Ruben?" I asked again.
"I didn't—" He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply. "I was lying when I told her that," he said.
"You lied?" I repeated.