I was cut short by a scream.
Skye had fallen off her swing, knees hitting the wooden box that held the woodchips in. She rolled onto her back, holding her knee, which was bleeding. Josh raced over and scooped her up in his arms. He carried her straight to a water fountain to wash her knee as she whimpered.
It wasn’t a deep cut, just a graze, but it hurt her a lot and she couldn’t ride her bike home. Josh picked her up and held her in one arm, pushing her bike with the other, while I walked mine beside them.
“Sorry for before,” I began.
“No, you were right. I’m always pushing you. I should have dropped it. And I shouldn’t have said that stuff about Noah. If you say it’s fine, I believe you.”
“Thanks. I shouldn’t have said what I did either. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re the most caring guy I know. I mean, look at you.”
Skye sniffled a little, a few tears still edging their way out. Josh patted her back and stopped to face me. “I just want to know you’re okay. That’s all I ever want.”
I could tell there was something more he wanted to say, but he turned and kept walking. We were silent for the rest of the walk home. Skye was exhausted from all the drama, and when we reached the house, Josh washed her knee properly, bandaged it up, grabbed an ice pack, and tucked her in a blanket on the couch to watch cartoons.
It was amazing, watching him with her. He was like a big brother or a parent. I had never really seen him like that, not since the day he piggybacked me in the playground after I hurt myself. But this was different, or at least I saw him differently. He joined me in the kitchen, cheek still red from where I’d slapped him. He winced as I reached up to touch it.
“I’m so sorry!” I apologised once again.
“It’s okay, your hand is cold. It helps.” Grabbing my hand, he held it to his cheek. He’d missed my meaning, thinking I was apologising for making him wince rather than my violent outburst earlier.
“The one time my ice-cold hands aren’t a bad thing, huh?” I laughed.
He smiled and said nothing, instead watching me intently. His hand gently scooped around the back of my neck, warm and strong. I wasn’t sure whether it was the last few weeks of trauma and emotion, or whether my feelings for Noah were seeping into my friendship with Josh. Maybe it was his constant warmth and safety, or the way he carried Skye, but a dam burst inside me.
I kissed him.
It was amazing, and strange, experiencing someone you know and love in a whole new way, like you’re meeting them for the first time even though you’ve known them for so long. It felt like déjà vu, fresh but familiar, like coming home and finding the furniture’s been rearranged. I don’t know how long we were there before Skye squealed.
We both jumped apart.
How long had she been standing at the kitchen door watching? She started to laugh, chanting that song about trees and babies. I went bright red and so did Josh, although maybe my slap still had something to do with that.
I yelled at her to go back to her cartoons, and then I quietly freaked out. I couldn’t even look at Josh, but from the corner of my eye, I could tell he was grinning from ear to ear.
What was I doing? What would this do to our friendship? And what exactly did Josh want from this? I was so confused, and this was all wrong. Guilt closed around my lungs like a vice. Noah’s funeral was in a few hours. He was barely cold yet, and I was cheating on him. Not that we were together in the first place, but I felt I owed him time, at least.
A lump formed in my throat, and I stared intently at the white tiles framing our stove. Josh shifted uncomfortably from side to side. He knew he’d made a mistake, but I had started it. Either way, we couldn’t come back from here.
I should have said something, but after a long and strained silence, Josh meekly suggested he should go. I nodded, and he crept out the front door like a puppy with his tail between his legs.
Throwing myself down on my bed, I tried to figure out what to do. This was a disaster, but it was a disaster I had kind of enjoyed. I grabbed my blanket between both fists and squeezed it as tight as I could, wishing I could rewind and start the whole year over.
NINE
My phone buzzed on the table next to my bed and I rolled over to check my messages. It was Caitlyn. Josh had obviously told her what happened and she wanted to know all the details. I sighed, and threw my phone back onto the bedside table. It knocked over a glass of water, and I swore. The water ran down across the table and dripped over the side, making little dark spots on the carpet where it landed.
Hold on... I sat up in shock. The police had said I crawled free from the wreckage, and Noah died trapped in his seatbelt. How would his blood be on my stomach? The angle, the amount—even if the truck was on its side, the blood drips were all wrong. Noah had died on top of me, just like I remembered.
They were lying. The cops were lying.
Mum was still at work, and I tried to call to tell her. She didn’t pick up. I hung up and sat on the end of my bed for a moment.
This was big. What I had seen was real. That shadow was real. It was the same thing I saw in the park, I was sure of it. For some reason, it was stalking me.
I picked up the phone to dial the station and tell the cops about the new evidence I had for my version of events, but my finger froze over the call button. I had no evidence, not really—it had washed down the shower drain. Plus, either the police were lying, or something else had happened entirely, something even more sinister. Either way, someone had set it up. Moved me, Noah, and the truck, set the whole thing on fire to cover up his death. If the blood tests were right, if my blood really did show the presence of alcohol, they either forced me to drink it or poured it down my throat when I was unconscious.
My skin crawled. What was I involved in?
I stared at the drops on the carpet, trying to figure out what on earth I was supposed to do. My thumb hovered over the call button, but I was frozen. There was no good next step, none that seemed safe. Minutes passed, and I still had no solution.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I jumped. It was a Caitlyn, asking if I needed a lift to the funeral. I looked at the time and swore. It was in just over an hour and I was nowhere near ready.
I scooped my hair up into a ponytail, but that seemed too happy. I wanted to show respect, so I brushed it out instead, and it fell across my eyes. That was okay. It took me three tries to get changed. I didn’t own much black. The first outfit was a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, but that was way too casual. The second was a cocktail dress I found in Mum’s closet, but that was cut too low for a funeral; I could practically see my belly button. Classic Mum. I finally found a plain black dress in the back of the wardrobe Mum had bought me “just in case I needed it.” I almost never wore dresses, so I looked myself up and down in the mirror. I could see my knees, which was weird. I would also have to shave my legs to avoid being mistaken for an escaped gorilla in a dress.
The funeral was quiet and poorly attended. Almost no one at school had known Noah; he had only been there a day, and a lot of people in town were sick and tired of funerals by this stage. The whole police force showed, though. As Noah’s dad was the new chief, they were either keen to support him or suck up to the boss—or both. The casket was closed, for obvious reasons, but his photo sat atop the dark teak coffin. He looked younger there and happier somehow. Less burdened. I had never known him that way, but it was nice to think of him as a child, running around and getting into trouble.
I didn’t cry. I had pretty much run out of tears by this point. I looked over at Noah’s dad. His last name was Hackman—I’d learned that from the funeral notice. He wasn’t smiling, not today. He was broken.
A girl sat next to him, bright green eyes smouldering against dark skin. Her dress was black but shorter than mine. She looked my age, perhaps a year or two older. Definitely too young to be Mr. Hackman’s wife. Maybe a family friend or adopted daughter. At the end of the funeral, they talked in
hushed whispers. I tried to make out what they were saying, but they saw me watching and stopped the conversation.
This was the first time I had seen Mr. Hackman since Noah’s death. Considering my involvement, I figured I owed him an apology. As I approached, he turned to me. “Ari. Glad to see you’re okay.”
“Thanks. I wish Noah was okay too.”
“So do I, dear.”
There was an awkward silence.
“I’m Rachel.” The girl stepped forward, extending her hand and saving me from conversational suicide. “I’m a family friend,” she offered without my asking. “You were there that night, weren’t you?” I nodded. “It must have been awful.”
I didn’t really want to talk about it, so I nodded again and looked away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her give Mr. Hackman a knowing glance. There was a crack in the conversation here, and I was going to pry it open. “It’s funny, I don’t remember the accident at all.”
“No?”
“I remember flames, sure. But they weren’t coming from the car.”
Hackman jumped in quickly. “That’s right, it started in the grass underneath and spread to the cabin later.”
“That’s not what I meant. The fire I remember wasn’t anywhere near a car. We hadn’t even made it back from the Boulders yet.”
Hackman’s eyes widened, as did Rachel’s. “What exactly do you remember?” she prodded.
He put his hand on her shoulder, his voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper. “I don’t think it’s right to make her relive the accident, and I don’t really want to hear the details either. It’s been hard enough.”
She looked at him for a moment. Nodding almost imperceptibly, she looked back at me. “I’m sorry. He’s right. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s okay. I did have a question for you though.” I looked dead at Hackman. “Can I see the crash site?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he said immediately.
“It would, though. It would help me get closure. I’ve been seeing a counsellor to help with the trauma, and she thinks it’s a good idea.” That last part was a lie. I’d refused to talk to anyone.
He paused. “I’m sorry, no. It’s still a crime scene.”
“Isn’t the investigation over?” Rachel asked.
He looked like a teacher about to snap at a difficult student. “The investigation is over, but the crime scene remains intact.”
“That’s strange,” I said.
“That’s how it is!” His voice cut through the air like a ruler smacked on a desk. It had a similar effect.
Everyone stopped talking and stared at us. Hackman turned red, and several seconds passed before noise in the room resumed.
“If you’ll excuse me, Ari, I need to speak to Rachel in private.”
I nodded and walked away. I had to leave anyway; as much as I wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation. Caitlyn’s mum had come to take me home. She was a sweet lady, and I couldn’t keep her waiting.
As I walked out the door, their body language said it all. A hushed but heated argument, and Rachel was giving as good as she got.
TEN
There were three knocks. Loud, sharp raps against the small window in our door. I opened it a crack. “Rachel?”
“You wanted to see the crime scene?” Her voice was hushed and urgent.
I nodded.
“It’s nearly dark. Bring a torch, and try to be subtle.”
“Mum, I’m heading out for a walk!” I called.
She responded from somewhere inside the house. All good. I felt bad for lying, but the truth would prompt questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
Rachel’s car was parked outside, a tiny, beat-up runabout that barely fit the two of us. The suspension was shot, and I felt every pothole and pebble on the road as she drove.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“You deserve to know the truth,” she replied.
“What is the truth, exactly?”
“You’ll see.” There was silence, except for the rumbling of the car. Rachel checked the rear-view mirror.
“What, are we being followed or something?” I joked.
“No, I made sure of that.”
I stared at her. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“I thought they might be watching your house.”
I swallowed. “What exactly am I involved in?”
“You remember the night Noah died, right?”
“Yeah. The accident.”
She slowed to take a corner. “Except there wasn’t an accident. You remember that much. You weren’t supposed to, but you do. That creates a problem for them.”
“For who? The cops?”
“Not just the cops.”
I swore. “How many people are in on this?”
“More than you want to know, trust me.” She indicated left, and we pulled out onto the highway.
My hands were shaking, and I sat on them to get it under control. “What really happened that night?”
“Just wait.”
The sun had fully set now. A set of headlights pulled out onto the road behind us. Rachel watched them, worried.
“Is that them?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She slowed down, and the headlights approached. They were going fast; if they got much closer, they would run up the back of us. I gripped the dashboard with both hands. A horn blared, and the other driver yelled as he overtook us, suggesting we take our driving and shove certain unmentionable things into other, even more unmentionable things. Rachel relaxed.
It felt safe to speak again. “Why couldn’t you tell me everything at home? Why bring me out here?”
“There was no way to know if we were alone. Give me a minute, I need to concentrate.” She scanned the road, looking for the right place to stop. Slowly, she pulled off the edge of the highway onto rubble that cracked underneath the wheels.
We drove down a dirt road. More accurately, it was grass growing in the center of two tyre tracks, ruts cut by occasional use. We were nowhere near the Boulders. Not even close. Trees flew by us in the headlights, and their bony fingers touched overhead, creating a canopy.
Police tape loomed ahead, and Rachel stopped in front of it. I got out. The air still smelled of ash and burned plastic. The headlights of Rachel’s car lit the clearing, sending giant shadows into the undergrowth. Noah’s truck was flipped, smashed into the side of a burned-out tree. The vehicle was a charred white skeleton, plastic and steel melted off the body like skin. Black stumps surrounded the crash site like it was an altar.
“Anything feel familiar?” Rachel whispered.
I shook my head. I had never been here before. A breeze picked up, scattering ash into the air.
Ari.
“Yes?” I turned to Rachel.
She frowned. “I didn’t say anything.”
I shivered. “So what’s going on? I need to know the truth, and I don’t want to stay here long.”
“Come with me.” Rachel stepped under the police tape, and I followed her. She walked around the back of the truck, into the darkness. Her torch clicked on. “This’ll be cleaned up tomorrow, now that the investigation’s officially closed, and now you’ve started asking questions. I wanted you to see for yourself.” She leaned down and dug around in the charcoal. I knelt next to her. The wind blew ash into my eyes, and they stung. Rachel pushed her hand into the pile and pulled out something black and charred. A face, burned by the fire. I screamed and fell backwards.
“Ari, it’s okay. It’s just a mask. They burned everything here to contain the evidence, but this piece survived.”
I took a deep breath and composed myself. “I remember them. They wore those masks. They wanted Noah.”
“They wanted you.”
My skin crawled, and I looked around in the darkness.
Rachel’s voice changed. “You can feel it, can’t you?”
I nodded. I could see nothing in the night.
There were stars, but their light was sucked up by the canopy above. Even the torchlight only extended to the first row of trees.
Rachel moved closer to my ear. “I hoped this wouldn’t happen, but we’re not alone. It’s watching.”
Ari.
“Time to go.” Rachel stood and grabbed my hand. “Stay calm, and walk slowly. Keep your movements small.”
“What is it?”
“No time for that. Try not to talk about it, or even think about it.” We edged towards the car, ducking back under the police tape. Rachel dropped my hand and slowly got into the drivers’ seat.
Ari.
I jumped in the passenger side as the car roared to life. Rachel spun the car around and sped away. She turned the headlights off. “The darker the better. Use the torch. Shine it ahead of the car.”
I held the torch to the windscreen. It barely lit the path ahead, but it was better than complete darkness. I turned but couldn’t see anything following us.
I felt it, though. The hair on the back of my neck stuck straight out.
Rachel swerved as an animal ran across the road, and we almost drove off the side of the path. She corrected at the last second, and the wheels spun out in the dirt, sending dust everywhere. She was scared, even more scared than I was.
We burst out onto the highway. Rachel switched the headlights on and floored it. “You’ve got a lot of questions, I know. But I can’t answer them. Not now. We need to get you home, and I need to get back. I can’t tell you more, not now. It might put you in more danger. If it thinks you know—”
“But—”
“Just drop it!” she yelled. The rest of the trip was silent. When we pulled up outside my house, the front light was on. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” Rachel warned.
“Who would I even tell? If the cops are in on this, I can’t trust anyone.”
“It’s not just that. Anyone who knows is in danger. Anyone you tell you put in harm’s way.” Her eyes were dark, and I believed her.
The Fire Unseen Page 6
