Forever Blue

by Abby Wilder

  "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.

  "He lied?" Cara snorted. "Sure he did. Pity we can't all see him, you know, just to double check. Awfully convenient for you, though, isn't it, Judah. Ruben admits to lying after he's dead, when no one but some lame teenage wannabe-psychic can hear him. Judah, as much as I hate you, I almost feel sorry for you. This girl is clearly telling you things you want to hear. I'm all for letting your freak flag fly, but I hope you're not paying her for this so-called psychic ability."

  "Tell her that I'm not the only one who lied," Ruben said, gripping my arm and dragging me towards Cara. "There's something I know that Judah doesn't."

  "Ruben's not the only one who lied," I repeated, my voice robotic and cold.

  "No?" Cara shot back. "And I suppose he's telling you this?"

  "Yes." It was hard to face the intensity of the accusation in her expression. "You lied too," I added, almost a whisper.

  "Lying is part of life." She snorted. "But tell me, since you think you know everything, what did I lie about?"

  Ruben walked over to Cara and looked directly into her eyes as she glared through him at me. "You lied to the police," he said, his voice quiet and controlled. "You told them that you saw him get in the car and drive away that night. You told them you saw him, but you never did, because he wasn't the one who drove."

  For Cara, Ruben wasn't there. But for me, he was. And he was pleading with her, begging her to forgive his brother, even if it meant hurting her in the process.

  "Well?" she demanded at my hesitation. "You can't just throw accusations around like that and not back them up."

  "You lied to the polic
e," I said. "You lied to the police about seeing Judah drive away that night."

  "What would you know?" Cara said dismissively, but there was a glitch in her expression, a quiver of hesitation that slipped through.

  Ruben talked frantically and I rushed to repeat his words. "After Ruben told you that Judah drove that night, you went to the police and told them you saw him ask Ruben for the keys and then drive away. You said he was swerving over the road, that he was drunk. That was a lie. Judah never drove that night, he left earlier than Ruben, that much is true, but he walked, and Ruben picked him up later that night when he left. You also convinced Alex to change his story with the police from merely seeing headlights at the scene, to seeing Judah's car. There was no proof it was Judah's car."

  Cara didn't say anything. She glanced over at Judah, then back to me. Her lips moved but no words came out.

  "Ruben has read the police reports," I continued. "He knows the truth. You told him what you were going to say to the police depended on his answer and he has regretted that answer ever since, but you had already decided Judah was guilty. You never hesitated. It wouldn't have mattered what he said."

  Judah stepped forward. "You lied to the police about me?"

  "But Ruben said you drove home." For the first time, Cara's hard mask slipped. "Why would he say that if it wasn't true?"

  "Why did you?" Ruben shot back at her, and I repeated his words.

  "Because—because I needed someone to blame. He was guilty. He is guilty." Her mask slid back on and she stormed over to Judah. "Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you defend yourself, if you're not guilty?"

  "I tried," Judah said. "But you wouldn't listen."

  "That's because you never told me the truth! Why didn't you tell me what really happened? Why didn't you try?"

  Judah hung his head. "I did. And then I couldn't."

  "Why?" she yelled.

  "Because," he implored.

  "Because why?" she asked again.

  The first of the fireworks exploded in the night sky. Ruben's face, pale and haunted with terror, was illuminated by the flash of light, while Judah's tortured expression begged for Cara's forgiveness.

  "Why?" she asked again, quietly this time, in-between gunshots of exploding light.

  "Because it was me," Ruben said.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Judah – the previous year

  The rain poured down mercilessly. It was just spitting when I walked away from Ruben, but as I turned onto Stone's Throw Road it bucketed down so hard, I was soaked within seconds. It suited me. I didn't want to see the world. I had already seen too much that night.

  When I was thirteen years old, I attended an outdoor education camp, boys only. One night Cara snuck in, tapped on my window, and we both slipped out into the forest. I was terrified. It was dark and the moon filtered through the trees, casting strange shadows of things that crept through the night. But Cara took my hand, the one that proudly wore the bracelet she had given me a few months earlier, and laughed. She made me taste a leaf that shone silver in the moonlight. It was hot and peppery and left a burning sensation in my mouth.

  When I was fourteen, she snuck into my room and convinced me to help her steal one of the water bikes chained on the shore of the lake. It was calm and still as we paddled out to the middle with nothing to guide us but the light of the moon. Cara dove into the water, breaking the perfect reflection of the moon, and sang like a warbling siren tempting me to a watery grave, waving a bottle of bourbon that we never drank because it tasted foul.

  When I was fifteen, she climbed the side of our house and tapped on my window. She had stolen one of the old wrecks lying around the paddocks of her house and we went for a joy ride. The car was rusted and old, but its engine sounded more beautiful than any I had heard, probably because it was mixed with her laughter. I bought the car from her father as soon as I got my learner's license.

  When I was sixteen, even though I knew it was coming, even though I had been waiting for the day ever since I met her, Cara Armistead broke my heart.

  I guess they thought I wouldn't see. Ruben drew Cara away from the light, but the flicker of the flames from the bonfire illuminated their faces. I saw them kiss. I knew their secret.

  I was going to walk away. I knew when I was beaten. But Cara sauntered over to me, walking the way she did, smiling the way she did, and I couldn't leave. I couldn't turn away.

  She stopped in front of me and peered intently, blinking innocently. But as she looked into my eyes, her smile slipped and her gaze dropped to the ground. "You're upset."

  "I'm fine," I growled.

  "No, you're not. Your nostrils are doing that thing. You and Ruben have the same tell."

  "Just drop it, okay?" I said.

  Her eyes narrowed and she stared at me intently. "You know." Her gaze dropped. She crossed her arms and twisted her foot into the dirt, only stopping when she peered up apologetically.

  My whole body was heavy. I had been fighting a fight I only just realised I would never win.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "He'll never choose you."

  She looked up. "He already has."

  "You aren't the first girl to think that. Just tell me one thing, why him? What's he got that I haven't?"

  She shrugged and attempted a grin. "It's always been him."

  I wasn't prepared for those words. They hit me hard. I leaned back against the car and hung my head. "For me, it's always been you," I said, but my voice betrayed me. It broke.

  "Judah." She stepped forward, her hand outstretched, but pity tainted her actions. I didn't want her pity. I wanted her to look at me the way she looked at Ruben.

  I pulled away violently. "Don't. He'll never end up with you, you know that, don't you? Ruben is a people pleaser. He likes to do what's expected of him, and it's expected that he'll end up with some pretty little thing from a good family, a family with money. And she and Ruben will form the perfect little family, and push out some perfect little bratty kids. You're nothing more than a quick thrill for him, a dalliance from the wrong side of the tracks, from a family with a crazy mother, and a skank for a little sister."

  Tears gathered in Cara's eyes and she swallowed. "Why are you being so cruel?"

  I swallowed the guilt I felt and looked down at the ground. I had never spoken to Cara like that before. I had never spoken to anyone like that before. I was ashamed, but I was also angry and hurt, so I just stared at the ground and refused to meet her eye.

  It was then that Ruben had appeared with Lana. Cara didn't get to say anything more before she took off after her sister. I wanted to go home. I didn't want to look at her. I didn't want to look at him. I wanted to forget this night ever happened, so I grabbed my jacket and started the long walk home.

  A car drove past and water sprayed over my feet. It pulled to a stop a few meters in front of me and the door flung open.

  "Hop in," Ruben yelled.

  Without a word, I climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

  "Look," Ruben said as we pulled back onto the road. "I don't know what she said, but Cara and I are nothing but friends."

  I angled my body away from him and stared out the window. The rain pelted against the glass, blurring the darkness beyond it. We passed the solitary street light at the intersection. The rain smudged the glow and reflected it a million times over in each of the droplets. The road twisted and turned as it followed the shoreline of the lake. The burn of the bonfire shone in the distance.

  "I don't know what she said to you, but it's not true. We're not together." His voice pleaded with me. "Judah, please."

  But still, I didn't answer. I didn't want to talk about Cara with him. I didn't want to talk about Cara at all. I felt like a fool. I knew this day would come, but I walked into it anyway. I had run to it with arms flung wide. I had no one to blame but myself. Despite my brother's reassurances over the years that he didn't like her like that, in the end, he to
ok her away from me anyway. I should've known.

  Ruben reached down and flicked on the radio. "Fine. Don't talk."

  The wipers swished in time to the music. Ruben's hands clutched the steering wheel, but he kept looking at me, his pupils dark and unsettled.

  "You were supposed to drive that night," I said finally. If I couldn't talk about Cara, I could talk about that.

  "So?" He was defensive.

  "If you'd done what you said, this would have never happened."

  Ruben laughed. "So you're blaming me?"

  "Is there someone else I should be blaming?"

  "You're the one that drank and got behind the wheel. We could have called Mum or Dad to come pick us up. I didn't force you to do it. It was all you."

  Anger swelled. "All me? Are you serious?"

  "You can't go blaming me for your mistakes, Judah. You need to take responsibility for your own actions."

  "You sound just like Dad."

  "And that's a bad thing? Maybe if you listened to him a little bit more, people might think differently of you."

  I looked over at his pressed shirt and perfect hair. "Just let me out." I rested my hand on the door handle but Ruben sped up. "Let me out," I growled. But he put his foot down, and the engine roared under the encouragement. "Ruben, slow down!"

  "You think that it's easy being me?" Ruben flicked his gaze between me and the road, his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, flashing white.

  I gripped the edge of my seat and pushed on an imaginary brake pedal. "Just slow down."

  "Dad expects everything from me. Everything. Not you, though. No, you're allowed to hide away in your room playing video games. Do you think it comes naturally? That I don't have to try?" Ruben jerked the steering wheel as we rounded the first sweeping corner that rose above the cliffs over the lake.