by Fleur Ferris
‘I thought so. But why? I mean, wouldn’t she need him now more than ever?’
‘Grief can make you see and feel things differently. She’s so shaken up. She blames Dave, but mostly herself. She feels she always palmed Sierra off to keep up with Dave – travelling overseas, entertaining … She thinks that if she’d been concentrating on her family instead of everything else, this wouldn’t have happened. We can’t make her feel better; we can only be there when she needs us.’
I can’t imagine Rachel ever needing me, or wanting anything to do with me ever again.
‘What about Cassy?’ I ask.
‘Rachel had a big fight with her, too. She’s gone to stay with Dave until things calm down a bit.’
‘Should Rachel be alone like that?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know what’s best for Rachel right now,’ Mum says.
I sit at my desk and open my English folder. I have an essay to write. It’s overdue, but the teachers have been giving me automatic extensions so I should be okay. One subject at a time.
I begin. Our theme is ‘crisis’.
Write 300 words to describe a crisis you have experienced.
I think about my day and how I came to the decision to visit Rachel. Is that a crisis? It’s certainly an inner crisis. I read through the notes the teacher’s given us. There are definitions for different types of crises. Maybe I should write about my decision whether to tell Mum or not about Sierra not returning. It’s on my mind day and night so I may as well write about it …
I start. The words flow easily. They are heartfelt and honest. I don’t make myself out to be any kind of martyr or demon. I tell it how it was. It only takes half an hour.
My crisis: Should I tell?
When my friend Sierra told me she was planning to meet up with a guy she’d met online, I agreed to cover for her. Covering for her was a pretty big decision. She was banned from using the internet, but at my house, on my computer, she met her guy on Mysterychat. I knew that no way would her mum let her meet with a random guy from the internet, and I knew that if her mum found out, I would be in big trouble alongside Sierra. But he seemed so funny and nice, and they were going to meet in the city in public. Our plan was that Sierra would stay at my house that night, after her date. But then she called – she’d changed her mind. She wanted to stay the night with him.
At first I was shocked and then I got angry. Sierra was out having fun and was going to get me into trouble in the process. She promised to be home the next morning but she didn’t show up. I was furious. She had done this exact thing before to another friend. Sierra didn’t care about getting her friends into trouble …
One friend wanted to tell our parents; he was worried about her. I quashed the idea. If we told our parents, I would be in huge trouble. Sierra was just having a good time and would turn up when she was ready. She’d done it before.
But she didn’t turn up in the afternoon, or the next morning, either. By Sunday afternoon I started to worry, too. Part of me thought that she might just still be out, having fun. But what if something had happened to her? Should I tell, or should I keep covering for her?
This was my crisis.
I take my computer down to Mum and ask her to read over it for me.
‘It’s perfect. Hand it in as it is,’ she says.
We eat, clean up and chat for a few minutes. I pick up my laptop and start for my bedroom.
‘Taylor, maybe you should think about putting that one on your blog.’
I look at her and nod.
‘Yeah, I might,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’
I read over it a few more times and tweak a few sentences before sending it off to the teacher. She’ll be pleased I’m finally doing something. I include a note, thanking her for the extension.
I then log into Risk. My chest tightens when I see how many views it’s had. Two thousand, and it hasn’t even been forty-eight hours. It’s incredible! I flick the map up onto the screen to see where the most views have been from. Australia, England, America, Africa, Sweden and New Zealand. I’m dumbfounded and yell out to Mum. Her face is stiff when she comes in.
‘Take a look at this.’
‘Two thousand? What does that mean exactly?’
‘It means that my site has been viewed two thousand times in less than forty-eight hours.’
She places her hands on each side of her head like she can’t quite work it out. ‘Wait until you put that next blog on.’
‘I’ll upload it now.’
It takes about twenty seconds. I share the link on Facebook and Twitter. Facebook friends jump on it. Comments, shares and likes start coming in immediately. I check my webmail and see that more girls have sent in photos of guys they’ve met online. Thumbnails of guys smiling at the camera sit on the screen. Mum reaches out and touches the face we thought was Jacob Jones. She blinks back her tears.
‘What a creep,’ she says. ‘And to think he’s still out there somewhere. He could be online right now, chatting to some other poor unsuspecting girl. You’re doing an amazing thing, Taylor Gray. You really are.’
Mum leaves and I open another email.
A stupid girl playing a stupid game. Seriously, what did Sierra expect to happen when she rushed off to meet a random stranger?
I read it again. Didn’t you read my blog? I feel like writing back. She walked into a trap!
I don’t reply. I’m too angry. People will always judge, regardless.
I flick back to views. The numbers are climbing fast.
A message comes in from Mr Samalot. The gallery page is live and ready for uploads. I go to work and upload the two photos Jacob Jones sent to me. It feels weird. What if he sees it? Maybe I should tell Kel I’m doing it.
My phone rings. It’s Callum.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘Are you watching this?’
‘Yes. I can’t stop watching it.’
‘What you wrote, your crisis piece … It was … really amazing … Are you all right?’
‘Not really, but yes. I’m miserable most of the time, and then I have these brief moments when I feel … other things. And then I feel guilty for not still being miserable.’
He blows out a laugh. ‘I know exactly what you mean. I think I just have to let myself go – feel what I feel without analysing it,’ he says.
There’s a comfortable silence.
‘It’s just hit three thousand views!’ exclaims Callum. ‘That’s one thousand in, what, twenty minutes? This one might actually go viral.’
‘Then you’ll have to let your mum say it.’
We both laugh.
‘I’m trying to catch up on schoolwork,’ I say.
‘Yeah, Mr Samalot – another thing to feel guilty about.’
‘I know, but we said we’d try.’
‘All right. I’ll let you go so we can get to it.’
‘Okay. Bye,’ I say, but then call out before he hangs up. ‘Wait, Callum?’
‘Yeah?’
‘The gallery page just went live. Check it out.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’
We hang up. I look at my maths book. It has to be next, but I’m at the stage where I can’t actually understand the lessons, I’ve missed so much. The teacher must have known, though – they’ve given me a workbook to go through and before long, I’m halfway through the second lesson.
I flick over to the website. Right now, eight hundred people are viewing it. The grand tally is three and a half thousand views. I sit back in my chair. The comments after the blog are beautiful. Lots of people say they are crying as they type. Many say how beautiful Sierra was and express their outrage and hatred towards her killer. There are no more judgmental ones.
I have a few more emails. Much of it is congratulations, expressions of condolence or support. But then one catches my attention. ‘I’VE SEEN HIM!’ is the subject.
My breath is punched out of me.
I stare at the message. It’s from Miffy the Kat.
Dear Risk,
I received the same beach photo with the Brighton Beach boat houses in the background two weeks before your friend went missing. I met the guy – he told me his name was Matthew Smith – at Greendale shopping centre. We chatted for a while and then I went to the bathroom. When I came back he was gone. I cried for three days. Now I think I’m going to throw up …
I know I should tell the police but I don’t really want to. I’m really scared, especially after reading your online-invisible post. This guy probably knows where I live … What if I tell the police about him and he comes after me? My parents don’t know about him … But I want to help. Please tell me what I should do.
Miffy the Kat
My heart pounds.
‘Mu–’ My voice breaks. ‘Mum!’
She appears at my door.
‘Read this.’
I get up and give Mum my chair. I sit on the edge of my bed. Goosebumps form on Mum’s arms and she gasps.
‘We have to call the police. Can anyone else see this message?’
‘Callum and Mr Samalot know the passwords to access it, but they haven’t been checking emails, just me.’
She’s walks to the door, turns, grabs her phone, turns, walks back, hesitates.
‘I’ve got to get that detective’s business card from my purse.’
My heart thuds hard in my chest and ears. Mum comes back. She’s still dithering with the phone and the card. She dials. Her voice is shaky as she stammers her way through the questions. Nausea washes over me. My thoughts are jumbled. I concentrate on breathing. We should have told the police about the website. Mum hangs up.
‘They’re coming over.’
We go downstairs, set up the computer in the lounge room, make hot chocolate and wait. They take thirty minutes to arrive: it’s Kel Parkinson – the guy who returned our computers and phones, and who spoke at our school – and another guy.
Kel connects my computer to his and begins tapping. He asks questions about the website and what information it provides, and says we should have informed them about it.
‘No information about the case is on there, aside from what the media has already reported.’ I’m defensive.
‘We need full access to monitor it – your emails, everything,’ he says.
I nod.
‘I’ll notify you if we are going to take control of the website. If that’s the case, you, Callum and Mr Samalot must stay off the site.’
‘How come?’ I ask.
‘If Sierra’s killer is monitoring your site and you accidentally disclose the wrong thing it could tip him off. Until we’ve fully investigated the lead, we need to know that nothing like that can happen, that he won’t be tipped off,’ he explains.
They both go through every part of the website – every email, every photo. Nothing else seems to grab their interest, apart from Miffy the Kat.
I write down all the passwords for the site so they can access it from their office.
‘We will contact Miffy the Kat. I’m going to pose as you and send an email right now,’ says Kel.
Dear Miffy the Kat,
Thank you for sharing this information with me – I know it took a lot of courage. You may have vital information that could help police to identify Sierra’s killer, therefore I have to notify them. I will be forwarding your email and email address to the police and they will contact you very soon.
Taylor
As he presses ‘Send’, nerves grip my stomach. I feel like I’ve lied to Miffy the Kat.
‘Do not contact her again,’ says Kel. ‘This is very important if this information leads to an arrest. Witnesses must not communicate. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
Mum squeezes my hand. The thought of Jacob Jones being arrested and put in jail pushes adrenaline through my veins. Kel tells me another three times how important it is that I don’t contact Miffy the Kat. Yes, I understand. No, I won’t make contact with her. Yes, I understand any communication will be summoned to court, should there be an arrest.
Kel smiles. This information is a new lead. His eyes are lively. I feed off it and allow myself hope. That tight anxious feeling that took hold of my body when Sierra went missing is still there. Finding her killer won’t bring her back or reset the balance of the universe, but it might bring some satisfaction to my world. I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
Jacob Jones will soon be in jail.
TWENTY
Sleep doesn’t come. I stalk around our house thinking about Miffy the Kat and the detectives working through the night trying to solve Sierra’s case. Finding Sierra’s murderer will not fill the hole that has been torn in my heart, but it will soften its edges. Anxiety and fear rocket around my stomach. What if he knows I had something to do with his arrest and he comes after me? What if he goes after Miffy the Kat? He knows us both. He could be outside our house right now.
Mum is up, too. I run into her room.
‘I’m scared.’ I tell her what I’ve been thinking.
‘He will never come here, Taylor. He’s a coward who skulks around chat rooms preying on young unsuspecting girls. He hides.’ Mum sounds certain, yet it must have crossed her mind because she adds, ‘I spoke to the police about it. They reassured me about this.’
‘I wonder why he left Miffy the Kat in the shopping centre.’
‘Who knows … Maybe Miffy wasn’t what he expected. Maybe something she did spooked him. We may never know, even if they do catch him.’
‘They will catch him. I just know it. We’ll get the call tomorrow.’
I’ve spooked myself out and I’m too scared to go back to my room, so I crawl into bed next to Mum. Sleep still doesn’t come. I stare into the darkness. Mum’s not asleep either. I can tell by her breathing.
‘I think I have to get up,’ Mum whispers.
I follow. I don’t want to be alone.
We sit in the lounge room drinking Milo. We log into Risk to see the number of views. Eight thousand. I just about spray my Milo across the room. Callum’s mum will definitely think it’s gone viral. Sierra would love it. The number of comments after my blog goes on forever. More girls have sent even more photos of the guys they’ve met up with.
I sit back into the couch.
‘It’s Sierra,’ I say. ‘It’s not me, it’s Sierra. That’s why so many people are viewing this site.’
I shake my head. She was so beautiful. Most of my thoughts of Sierra end in tears and this time is no exception. I’m sick of crying every time I think of her. It’s exhausting. Her death is just so senseless.
Mum wakes me as she’s leaving for work. I’m still on the couch and Mum’s put a blanket over me.
‘I’m going to work,’ she says. ‘Are you okay to go to school?’
I spring up. The last thing I want to do is stay at home on my own.
‘Yes, I’ll go. Is Callum here?’
‘No. It’s still early, but you might want to start getting ready. I thought you’d sleep through.’
My eyelids feel scratchy and my eyeballs feel swollen – or maybe it’s the other way around. I push my fingers through my hair. It’s knotty.
I head for the shower. It’s strange to have so much time to get myself ready. Some girls must get up this early to do this every day, they always look so good.
My uniform is not as tight. I’ve lost some weight. The buttons aren’t pulling as hard. It fits better, feels better. I imagine how skinny girls must feel every day. If I were like them, I’d try clothes on every chance I got. I’d go to the shops and try on everything on the rack and come out and say, ‘How does this look?’ – even though I know it irritates people. This was part of Sierra’s trouble. People assumed she knew she looked amazing no matter what, so when she fished for compliments it annoyed them. Maybe she did really need reassurance.
I blow-dry my hair, pull it to the top of my head and twist it into a loose bun. My face looks thinner when I have height on top. I find a stretchy black he
adband and put it on. Next I apply tinted sunscreen. I hate thick foundation. I use some eyeliner and try to make sure you can’t tell. Considering I rarely even do my hair, people would stop and stare if I turned up wearing lots of make-up. I stand back, look at myself in the full-length mirror and feel good. I look less bloated, healthier. I go downstairs, make hot chocolate and eat the fruit Mum has left for me.
I pull out my maths workbook and do a few sums. Every page is progress, so Mum says. Callum’s mum toots the horn in the driveway. I throw everything in my bag. Callum and his mum are beaming. They both start to clap when I get in. I blush, thinking they have noticed how nice I look today.
‘Have you seen it?’ Callum asks.
I feel deflated.
‘What?’ My mind skips to the news. ‘Did they catch him?’
Something fades in their faces, even though their smiles remain.
‘Ah … the website,’ Callum says. ‘Have you seen the views this morning?’
My reference to catching the killer has taken off the gloss. It doesn’t seem so important now.
‘Oh. Sorry. No. Not this morning. I saw it pretty late last night, though, and it was climbing fast.’
‘Nearly fourteen thousand views.’
‘What?’ I can’t believe it. ‘What?’ I screech. ‘Oh my god, Sierra would be so thrilled!’ My voice catches with the mention of her name.
None of us needs to say how tragic it is that it’s her death that has thrown her into the limelight she craved. Most of the views are from Australia, but she’s being watched and loved by people from all over the world, and she isn’t here to enjoy it.
When we get to school, I see Riley waiting for us at our usual table. I smile at her so she knows I’m still here if she wants to talk, but I don’t go to sit. I wave to indicate I have to be somewhere. She nods. It’s nice to see her face.
Callum goes to walk into the canteen but I pull him along with me. I tell him I need to talk to him and Mr Samalot, so we go to the staffroom to find him.
I tell them about Miffy the Kat and the detectives monitoring the website around the clock.
Mr Samalot’s eyes widen. ‘That’s certainly more than we bargained for,’ he says.
