by Abby Wilder
Her eyes went cold and her voice, deadpan. "Don't even mention his name around me." She said it with such vehemence there was no doubt that she believed him to be guilty. I let her go and ran out of the main doors as she called after me. I froze when I saw Judah leaning against Elmo's rusted paint job.
"Hey, Ringo. Where's the fire?"
"Is it true?" I blurted.
The smile immediately wiped off his face. "Is what true?"
"The rumours."
He took a few paces towards me, his mouth set in a hard line. "Which ones?"
I took a step back. "That you killed your brother? That you killed Cara's little sister?"
His frown deepened. "Who told you that?"
"Does it matter? The whole school seems to know. Well, everyone except me. Is that why you wanted to be friends? Because I was the only one in school who didn't know?" I was yelling, and a few of the other kids milling around the carpark turned to look.
"Shush." He walked over and took my arm roughly, anxiously scanning the onlookers.
I jerked away. "Don't tell me to shush. Answer me."
"I will. But not here. Let's go for a drive, okay?"
Visions of the car careening over the side of a cliff unwantedly entered my mind. "I don't want to go anywhere with you, not until you tell me the truth."
"Okay, okay, just lower your voice. People are staring."
"Let them." But I lowered my voice.
"No. They're not true," he said and stepped closer. "Do you think I'd be walking around free, if they were?"
He was using the same logic I had, but I felt I had to stand my ground and, at least get some truth out of him. "So why does everyone think you did?"
"Please, let's just go for a drive and I'll answer all your questions. You've got to believe me." He took both my arms in his and didn't flinch as he stared, silently begging.
I crumbled, walked over to my car and inserted the key into the lock. "Get in." I wasn't sure if I was being foolish or brave.
"Thank you," Judah said quietly and slid into the passenger's seat.
He didn't talk as I drove down to the lake. I stopped the car and crossed my arms just as the first spits of rain began to fall. "Talk."
"It's not like they say," he muttered, his eyes darting over hesitantly.
"So why were you arrested?" The anger began to drain away just from watching the pain in his eyes.
He laughed scornfully. "I was never arrested. I was only brought in for questioning, as were a lot of people, but the police realised they didn't have anything. We were both—" His voice cut off and he cleared his throat. "You've got to believe me." He sighed and looked up, pleading. "It didn't happen the way people say."
I whispered the next question, as though it was too horrible to say out loud. "And your brother?"
Judah's face hardened. "It was an accident."
"An accident?" I repeated.
"Yes, even the police ruled it that way." He swallowed deeply and stared at the dashboard, his jaw clenching and unclenching, causing the freckles on his cheek to rise and fall with the movement. "I was there. I watched him die. I know you had a brother die too, but you never watched him. You never tried desperately to save him, and you've never had to deal with the blame for his death. J—" He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It just isn't something I like to talk about. You can understand that, can't you?"
I sat silently and stared down at my hands now folded in my lap. I wanted more than anything to believe him. I had become accustomed to having a friend other than Sienna to talk to.
Judah stared out the window at the rain trailing down the glass. "Just so you know, I really like you, Lennon. I know we haven't known each other that long, but when I'm with you, I can be me again. I haven't had that in a very long time. I thought you might feel the same." He sighed deeply and pulled on the door handle. "Believe what you want to believe. It's your choice." He pushed open the door and got out.
I watched as he walked away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Suddenly filled with desperation to be near him again, I opened the door. "Judah, wait!"
He waited. The rain fell harder. He blinked once but didn't walk back. Specks of rain caught in his hair and gathered in drops at the end of the dark strands.
"I believe you," I said quietly. And I did. I didn't know what happened, but I no longer cared. There was something about him that I longed to be near. All my life I had gone unnoticed, and this boy standing before me finally saw me, and I saw him. I didn't want to give that up.
He smiled then, and once again it was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day. He walked over quickly and took my hands. A rush of energy flowed through me, and I knew, no matter what other people said, I believed him. Staring into his eyes, I knew he was just a misunderstood boy, living in the shadow of his brother's death.
He came in closer, his gaze flicking over my face before settling on my eyes. He pulled me into an embrace and breathed deeply. "Thank you," he said, and his voice tore a little.
And then he let go too soon.
Chapter Thirteen
Ruben - the previous year
Dad's voice rose to a pitch I hadn't heard before. His eyes were glued to the road, but they kept darting to Judah in the passenger's seat, searching for remorse, or maybe defiance. But Judah refused to look at him, and I don't really think Dad wanted him to anyway. His eyes would only rest on Judah for an instant before turning away in disappointment, or maybe it was disgust.
"Driving under the influence," Dad yelled. "How do you think this makes me look? What were you thinking? What possessed you to get behind the wheel?"
I had sobered up quickly, sitting in the police station, waiting for Dad to collect us. It was two o'clock in the morning and Dad wasn't impressed to be woken at such a late hour. When he found out the reason, he was even less impressed. To give him a little credit, there was some concern etched on his face when he first walked in, but it disappeared as soon as his eyes fell on Judah. He turned a peculiar shade of red, one reserved only for Judah's mistakes.
Judah sat in the front seat and listened to Dad berate him. I should have stepped in, told the full story of how I was supposed to be the sober driver for the night, how he had only had two beers, but I doubted my confession would have helped the situation, so I kept my mouth shut. Judah didn't say a word. He stared out the window and watched the rain splatter against the glass. Cara reached across the space between us in the back seat and searched out my hand. I drew away and nodded to Judah. The last thing he needed was to discover that Cara and I were together. If, we were together. I didn't actually know what we were. It was nothing like when I'd hooked up with other girls. They were just girls from school. And Cara, well, Cara was Cara.
Dad only stopped yelling as we approached Cara's house.
"Thanks for the ride, Mr Mitchell." She tried to say it politely and seriously, but a giggle escaped. Dad grunted, and Cara shut the door, grimacing and motioning for me to call her later.
"It was her, wasn't it?" Dad demanded as we drove away, leaving Cara waving in the distance. "I've always told you she was no good, but you wouldn't listen, and now look what's happened. Because you were hanging around with her, because of your bad judgement—" Dad didn't finish and looked at Judah expectantly. But Judah was still staring out the window, watching the trails of water jerk across the glass, his face blank, as though he hadn't heard Dad at all.
"Answer me!" Dad commanded, his voice booming through the car.
"Was it her, what?" Judah replied sullenly.
"She got you drunk. She convinced you to drive."
Judah laughed, but it was cold and sharp. "Nope."
"Nope? That's all you've got to say for yourself? This isn't a joke, Judah. That conviction will be with you the rest of your life. Every time that little question pops up on a form, have you got a criminal conviction, you are going to have to tick yes."
Judah still didn't look at him. "There are a lot
of things I could say, but I don't think you'd want to hear them."
"Like what?" Dad growled.
Mentally, I willed Judah to shut up. I knew how to handle Dad. I knew what to say, how to appease him, but Judah only knew how to antagonise.
"Like how you're the pot calling the kettle black," Judah said, slowly turning to face him.
The colour flared up Dad's neck, but it never reached his cheeks. It remained a flame at the base of his throat and a throbbing in his temple. That was how I knew Judah needed to shut up. Dad had lost his licence two years ago, and it was not a topic he liked to discuss.
"How dare you speak to me like that!" he exploded. "You will not say another word!"
Judah rolled his eyes but kept his voice calm. "Answer me. Don't speak. Make up your mind."
Dad clenched his teeth and swallowed. "Tread lightly, my son, or that precious car of yours won't be there when you get your licence back." Calm and cold, his voice was even more threatening than when he yelled. "It's about time you took things more seriously. Look at your brother. You don't see him driving under the influence, do you? You don't see him stumbling after some girl and ruining his chances at life."
Judah straightened himself and met my eyes in the mirror, challenging me. It was strange to have my own eyes staring at me with such animosity. I thought that maybe, this time, he would speak up and blame me for what happened. But just like the time when there were fingerprints in the jelly when we were three, and the time the glass covering Dad's precious black jersey broke, or the time there were tyre marks shredded into the lawn, Judah didn't say a word. Taking a deep breath and tearing his gaze away from mine, he squared his shoulders and turned his glare to Dad.
"I paid for that car with my own money."
"Your money?" Dad repeated.
"Yes. My money," Judah said between gritted teeth.
Dad laughed coldly. "From the allowance I give you?"
Judah turned back to the window.
"That's what I thought." Dad fell silent then, something which often proved to be more dangerous than yelling. If he ever wondered where Judah got his penchant for dark moods, he didn't need to look far.
Almost all the lights in the house were on when we pulled up the driveway. The leaves of the ivy that framed the windows looked eerie in the yellow light. Our house was old, but it was the sort of house that belonged in a magazine. In fact, it had been featured in an interior design spread five years ago. Mum got herself into quite the state over it, but she convinced herself if she wanted to break into the interior design business, she needed to do such things. It didn't help. Mum's business continued to fail miserably, and Dad constantly complained about the money he funnelled to Mum to keep her 'hobby' afloat. Our house, built years ago by someone with too much money and not enough sense, resembled a castle more than a house, though at about quarter of the size. We even had the traditional circular driveway that surrounded a pond with a statue of a naked boy peeing into the water. I never understood the attraction of statues of naked boys and their little penises. They certainly weren't something I wanted to stare at out my window. Judah and I used to copy it when we were little, laughing as we peed, mimicking the almost dance-like pose of the statue until the nanny caught us. But tonight the house looked foreboding, as though it knew that this was only the start of things. Mum threw the front door open as soon as we pulled to a stop and came out dressed only in her silk nightgown. She carried a glass of wine in one hand as she carefully picked her way over the gravelled drive. Dad stormed past her without a word and Judah only grunted as he followed Dad into the house.
"Are you alright?" Mum's eyes were wide, her pupils dark. "Is everything okay? Is Judah okay?"
I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and gave her a brief squeeze. She felt frail under the thin fabric. "We're fine, Mum."
"So what happened?" she asked, taking another sip and staining her lips deep purple. It occurred to me that it was lucky the police never breath-tested Dad when he collected us. To Mum, I spoke the truth. I was supposed to be the driver. The only reason Judah got behind the wheel was because I was too drunk to stand straight, not that you could have told by the way I was acting. What little drunkenness that was left after the visit to the police station had vanished during the ride home.
Mum pulled her gown tight. The air was cool, and the slight breeze tickled the hair that had escaped from the tie at the nape of her neck, but the rain had stopped. She rubbed her eye and smudged the day old mascara. "Did you tell your father?"
I shook my head and looked at the ground. Mum patted me on the cheek and tilted my chin towards her. "Come in and warm yourself by the fire. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Snippets of Dad's voice could be heard slipping through the open door. His sullen mood was over and he was back to angry. A door slammed, and moments later, Judah's bedroom light turned off, replaced by the flickering light of the TV.
I shook my head and dug my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans. "I need to clear my head."
Mum put her now empty wine glass in the pocket of her gown and crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself against the cold. "Well, don't be long."
When I wanted to disappear, I didn't need to go far. The back of our house was framed by a large expanse of lawn, and stretching behind that, all the way to the lake, was a forest. In this forest was a house so old its walls were crumpled and falling, and the roof was caved in. Birds had nestled in the framework and chimney. Grass grew in the empty windowsills and vines strangled the parts of the walls that remained standing. But one of the rooms was intact enough that it was sheltered from the wind and the rain, and it was there I kept my drawings. Only Judah, Cara and I knew about the place, but neither of them had been there in years. When we were younger, it was our home away from home. Our place to hide. Our place to pretend. It still had pine cones and twigs in the fireplace where we pretended to cook. I went there often, looking for silence and solace when my mind was racing, and my thoughts invaded the parts of me I didn't want to dwell on. Away from the eyes of the world, of my father, it was where I went to draw. Sketching the thoughts of my mind was a part of me I didn't share with many people. Art was my drug, the thing I turned to for comfort. Art and words. I often drew words as art. But the last piece I drew was tacked to the wall, and it was of Cara, only it wasn't my best work. There was something sad about it, even though she was smiling. It's like my fingers knew I shouldn't be the one tracing the lines of her lips.
Even though I knew I shouldn't, even though I told myself I wouldn't, I pulled out my phone and flicked Cara a text asking her to meet me. The forest that surrounded the abandoned house backed onto Cara's property, and it didn't take long before an out of breath Cara floated through the door.
"I haven't been here in ages," she panted, holding onto the door frame and swinging into the room, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. In that moment, I think I saw what Judah saw, and my breath hitched a little. She drew close and placed her hand on my chest, looking at me with those eyes that seemed to promise the world. "I'm pleased you called." She smiled slowly and seductively, and my heartbeat quickened.
I enclosed her hand with mine and pressed it to my lips. I didn't want a repeat of the last time we were alone together, but even as I told myself that, I knew it wasn't true. If it was, I would have never asked her to meet me. "It's been a long day. I just wanted somewhere to unwind and I didn't want to be alone."
"How's Judah?" She blinked and twirled away from me, collapsing onto the ground.
"Feeling sorry for himself, I imagine." I sunk to the ground beside her.
She drew a line in the dirt with her foot. "We should have said something."
"Like what?" I asked. "He drunk, he drove, and he got caught. Nothing we could have said would have changed that."
Cara leaned over and rested her head against my shoulder. I should have pushed her away but my body responded differently than my mind and my arm snaked around her. "What are we do
ing?" I whispered, my lips pressed into her hair.
"Nothing," she murmured.
"Do you think he knows?"
"That we're together?" Her eyes lifted to mine questioningly.
"It was one time, Cara. That hardly qualifies us as 'together.'"
She shifted, defiantly pulling herself away. "It doesn't?"
I tried to bring her near again, as there was something comforting about her closeness, but she stayed firm and lifted an eyebrow.
"You know what I mean. We can't be together." I released my arm from around her shoulder. "Judah."
She shook her head and pulled her legs close, resting her chin on her knees. "No, Ruben Mitchell," she said, looking up at me with accusing eyes. "I don't know what you mean. Judah isn't here. Judah isn't the one I want. If I wanted Judah, he'd know."
I cleared my throat. It wasn't going the way I wanted it to. Surely Cara understood that it just happened in the heat of the moment, that there wasn't anything between us. She belonged to Judah, not me. "I was merely saying that with most girls, one get together hardly means—"
"But I'm not most girls, am I?" Her face hardened and I knew I'd stepped over a line.
"But you belong to—"
"Watch your mouth, Ruben Mitchell!" Her eyes flew wide, flashing angrily. "I don't belong to anybody."
"I'm sorry." I sidled over to her and tugged her towards me, but she remained stiff to my touch. She was pissed. She could tell Judah about us and I wasn't sure I could face him after that. So I appeased her the only way I knew how. I pulled her close and kissed her. And she let me. I didn't know what Cara saw in me. I didn't know what made her choose me and not him. I thought that Cara would see through the confident display I projected to the rest of the world, but it seemed I fooled her just like I fooled everyone else. She melted and returned my kiss passionately. But it didn't stop there. I wanted to feel better about myself. I needed to feel better about myself. So, on the night that was the beginning of everything, as my brother sat in his room mourning the loss of his licence and his freedom, I lost myself in the girl he loved.
