Risk

by Fleur Ferris

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘So it’s really important that we don’t contact her, and if the detectives tell us they’re taking control of the site, we’re not allowed to touch it. It could ruin Sierra’s court case and the guy could get off,’ I say.

  Mr Samalot nods. ‘I won’t tell a soul. I won’t touch a thing.’ And he clears his throat about six times. I can see he feels very important right now. After all, it was he who made the gallery page live last night, and it could be what catches Jacob Jones.

  Callum looks pale and doesn’t say much. His reaction is more like mine. The thought of police catching Sierra’s killer is huge. Important. Terrifying.

  I catch up with Riley at recess. We walk. She’s quiet and distant but seems to want to hang out with me again.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

  She looks across the oval and bites her bottom lip. Here’s not the place.

  ‘You want to come over after school today?’

  She nods. ‘I’ll get Mum to bring me over.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Joel?’

  ‘No.’ She doesn’t elaborate. When Riley’s upset about something, conversation is like pulling hens’ teeth. At the beginning, anyway. When she finally does start talking, she’s the exact opposite; it’s like she can’t stop.

  ‘Taylor!’ It’s Izzy with a group of girls. She rushes over and hugs me, talking a thousand words per minute. ‘Sierra would be so proud. The whole school is talking about Risk. It’s amazing!’ she squeals.

  I glance over and see that Riley has edged to the back of the pack.

  ‘The year-eight girls have been in tears all morning,’ Izzy continues. ‘But some kids are saying nasty things about Sierra … Like it was her fault.’

  ‘I know. I’ve heard it, too. Try to ignore it,’ I say, yet inside my blood boils.

  I look around. Riley is gone. I wonder if she’ll still come over after school.

  ‘Taylor.’ Mr Samalot and Callum are standing there. ‘The principal wants to see you and Callum.’

  Thoughts rush around my head, as I wonder if somehow the website has breached some code of conduct rule.

  We walk to the office. Callum and I sit in the chairs on the visitors’ side of Mr Williams’s desk. He smiles. I only speak to this guy about three times a year. One of his front teeth is slightly crooked. I look at it every time.

  ‘Without taking anything away from the sadness and tragedy of Sierra’s passing, I want to congratulate you both on your website. I have perused the site and am most impressed with its professionalism. Your posts are respectful, insightful and have touched the hearts of so many.’

  Callum and I shift uncomfortably in our seats.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Williams,’ I say.

  ‘The school was rocked by Sierra’s disappearance and death. We have many students and teachers taking time off. It’s extremely upsetting for everyone. I was wondering if you would address the school – tell them what you’re doing for Sierra and what the purpose of your site is – at the next assembly? People are most interested in what you have to say and I feel it could help some students come to terms with what has happened.’

  Callum is frozen to his seat. He has a public-speaking phobia, so this is like asking him to juggle his own eyeballs. He’s gripping the arm of the seat; his knuckles are white.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘If Callum can help me prepare the material, I’d be happy to be the speaker.’ I don’t care if Callum doesn’t help me, but it sounds better for Callum. One speaker makes sense.

  ‘No, I’ll speak too,’ Callum says. He looks at me. ‘It’s important. I want to do it,’ he says.

  ‘Great,’ says Mr Williams. Callum exhales and shifts in his seat. I hope that by Monday morning, at the next assembly, we can tell the whole school that Sierra’s killer has been caught. I’m certain he will be.

  I have my new phone in my pocket and I can’t stop checking it in case Mum’s texted me with news. My English teacher, Ms Duerden, tells me to put my phone away but she’s kind and doesn’t confiscate it. By the end of the day, I’m frustrated with receiving nothing. Surely police have spoken to Miffy the Kat by now and have got some special clue. She met him; she saw him up close. She must have done one of those face pictures police do and looked through photos of criminals. She could tell them how he spoke, what he wore. They may even be able to find footage. Big shopping centres have those bubbles with security cameras inside everywhere.

  I’m at home, sitting in the kitchen, waiting for Riley to arrive, when Mum pulls into the garage. I meet her at the door.

  ‘Have you heard anything?’

  She shakes her head. ‘I’ve just come from Rachel’s. The police are keeping her informed of leads so they told her right away about Miffy … I don’t think she slept at all last night.’

  I take the police telling Rachel about it as a positive sign – they must think it’s a definite lead. They must be getting closer to catching him.

  I boot up my computer and look over the site. I read comments, respond to some.

  I call Riley and get no answer. I guess she isn’t coming over after all. Then I call Callum and tell him that the killer hasn’t been caught yet. He’s as disappointed as I am.

  ‘Do you have any ideas about your next blog post?’ Callum asks.

  ‘Not sure. I haven’t written another one yet.’

  ‘Do you mind if I write one?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ I say, a bit too enthusiastically. I knew he wanted to write one so I don’t know why I’m taken aback by the request. I want to know what he wants to write about, but I don’t ask. If he’s got something he wants to say, he should be allowed to say it.

  ‘I’ll send it to you now.’

  ‘You’ve written it already?’

  ‘Yeah, let me know what you think.’

  We hang up and I flick over to my private email and wait for it. I open it as soon as it comes in.

  I was with Taylor when she received Sierra’s final phone call, when Sierra said she planned to stay out with her new guy. I immediately got a bad feeling deep inside my gut. I chose to ignore it and said nothing. I did this because a few weeks earlier, people had started a rumour about Sierra and me. To those who believed that rumour, my speaking up would only make me seem resentful or jealous. I didn’t want to be laughed at; I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.

  So I said nothing.

  The next day I found out Sierra hadn’t shown up. Even though she’d done the same thing before, that feeling I had that something was wrong was overwhelming. But those closest to her didn’t feel it, so I said nothing. I didn’t alert Sierra’s mother; I didn’t notify the police. I knew she was missing but I didn’t speak up. Could I have saved her? I don’t know. I will never know.

  Now I live with guilt and regret. I mourn the loss of my beautiful friend and wish I could turn back the clock to that Friday night and act on my feeling. Maybe if I had spoken to her, convinced her somehow to leave, I’d only be dealing with a few jibes about some stupid nonexistent crush, instead of dealing with this crippling grief and shame.

  I add a title: I said nothing.

  Callum and I have never spoken about this and reading it now makes me cry. I type through my tears, tell Callum it’s beautiful, and add some questions to the bottom of his blog to direct discussion.

  Have you ever ignored a bad feeling? Have you ever regretted doing so? How do we know when to act on a feeling and when to ignore it? When should we speak up to protect our friends?

  I send the questions back to Callum for approval. He emails back and says they’re okay. I’m not sure if I should ring him and speak about it or whether I should give him some time. I close my eyes. I ring.

  He doesn’t answer.

  That’s okay. It’s his decision.

  I find a photo of me and Sierra. We’re outside and a sunray sweeps over my head, lighting up Sierra’s face. I’m covering my mouth with my hand as I whisper into Sierra’s ear. Sierra’s
looking happy, looking perfect, as she laughs at my secret. Riley was the photographer and I remember the photo being taken. I was telling Sierra that Riley and Joel liked each other. Riley had warned me not to say it aloud. It was two years ago. I smile at the memory. Everyone knew Riley and Joel liked each other. It was no secret. They couldn’t have hidden it if they’d tried.

  I upload the photo with Callum’s blog and set it live for the world to read. I share it on Facebook and Twitter and then flick over to watch the views. People are viewing it already.

  I’m ecstatic. And sad. It’s a weird mix. I wish Sierra was here to see all of this.

  I’ll wait until the killer is caught before I write another blog post. I’m sure that will be the next announcement.

  TWENTY-ONE

  My yearning for police to catch Sierra’s killer is overpowering. All weekend I hover over Mum, not wanting to be away from her when she gets the call that Sierra’s killer has been found. All weekend there is nothing.

  It’s Monday morning before school. I’ve asked once again to speak with Mr Samalot and Callum but I’m finding it hard to concentrate on what I’m saying. I’m sure my disappointment is palpable. It weighs me down.

  ‘A couple of local schools contacted me last night,’ I say, ‘and asked if I’d be interested in going to their school and speaking about my blog. I think I’d like to do that. We could reach more people. Maybe we should add another page to the site with info about it, in case other schools wanted to hear more about Sierra and Risk.’

  ‘I can sort out that page,’ Callum says.

  Suddenly, I’m really excited about the prospect of telling so many people Sierra’s story. ‘We had a few speakers come to the school last year; how did the school find them?’ I ask Mr Samalot.

  ‘I’d imagine it was through a booking agency that manages schedules for them. But perhaps you should just wait and see how you feel about the talks after doing the one today. Are you ready?’ Mr Samalot asks.

  Callum has been quiet all morning. I know he’s terrified about speaking at assembly. I admire him for doing it.

  ‘Yep. Everything’s ready,’ I say.

  The bell sounds. We all move off. The last time students assembled they were notified of Sierra’s death. I’m angry that I won’t be able to tell them all this time that Sierra’s killer has been found.

  Everyone is seated quietly, staring at me. Callum stands to the side of the stage, ready to take over for his part of the speech. Nerves grip my stomach but release with some deep breathing. I’m speaking about something I’m passionate about. I know this.

  Mr Williams addresses the school and introduces me.

  All eyes follow me as I cross the stage, take the microphone out from its stand, and move behind a desk. It’s set up with my computer – I have a presentation ready to show the school.

  ‘Good morning students, teachers and special guests. My name is Taylor Gray and I have been asked to talk to you today about our website which was created to honour my friend Sierra Carson-Mills.’

  A hushed hum moves through the crowd.

  ‘By now, everyone here would be aware of how Sierra met her murderer …’ My voice falters. The assembly hall is deathly quiet. I look into the crowd and my thoughts go back to the judgmental email I received and Izzy’s comment about kids saying nasty things about Sierra. The words ‘to honour my friend’ echo through my head.

  I walk away from the desk. ‘Er … I had a speech prepared about how our website, Risk, outlines the dangers of online meetings and online predators, but … um … I think I want to talk about something else.’

  A few people giggle and it breaks the tension.

  I smile nervously. ‘I have chatted to friends in online chat rooms countless times. Rarely have I ever chatted to random strangers online, and I have never met up with or gone on a date with someone I’ve met online. But I know many girls – and guys for that matter – in this hall who have. I’ve even heard of older people marrying someone they met online. People do it and most of the time nothing goes wrong.’

  I glance at the principal. He’s probably wondering where this is going.

  ‘Some people in this hall have made some nasty, judgmental remarks about Sierra. Maybe it’s easier to criticise Sierra. Maybe if it was her fault – if she did something wrong – it would be easier to make some sort of sense of what happened.

  ‘But the cruel truth is, what happened to Sierra could have happened to any one of us. She did nothing different to any of the people here who have met someone online and taken that next step and met them in real life. Oh, actually she did – she did do something different. Sierra met up with a murderer.’

  There are a few nervous gasps. I hope I’m making some kind of sense. I look at a few faces in the crowd and know I have to keep going.

  ‘How would Sierra ever have known he was going to …’ I blink back tears. ‘… To do what he did?’ I shake my head and give myself a short break by looking down and moving a few paces across the stage. My delivery of this has to be right. Sierra bravely defended me so many times and now I need to do the same for her. I face the school and raise the level of my voice so that it sounds strong and clear.

  ‘Sierra fell for him. It only took a few hours. I know this sounds ridiculous. How could anyone fall for someone after only a few hours of chatting online? Instead of saying that Sierra was gullible or desperate or stupid, which are some of the comments I’ve heard, think about her killer. Think about what he did. He calculated every move. He stalked Sierra’s social media profiles so he could hook her interest, to make her believe in him, to make her fall in love with him. He was so clever at making her believe he was her perfect match. I know better than anyone …’

  All eyes are on me. A fresh burst of nerves charge through me at what I’m about to admit to the entire school.

  ‘… Because I fell for him, too.’

  The crowd unsettles again. I raise my voice and talk over them, demanding their attention.

  ‘I chatted to the same guy, and after just a few hours I fell for his charade. Looking back, I feel ridiculous. But at the time, my feelings were real.’

  My face flushes hot and I try to stop the tears, but they slide down my face. I wipe them away. I see a couple of the girls in the front row dabbing at their eyes, crying with me.

  ‘After a few hours of chatting to Sierra’s murderer, I was totally in love and would’ve jumped at the chance to meet him. But he chose Sierra.’ My voice gives way. ‘So it’s me standing up here talking to you today … not Sierra.’

  The last couple of words come out as a whisper. I need to pull myself together if I’m going to finish this talk. I look away from the audience and walk back to the desk. I touch the mousepad of my computer and my web page comes up.

  ‘To honour Sierra, I have started a website called Risk. If you are interested, please take a look, take part in some discussion, and share the link with your friends.’

  Everyone watches the home page, beamed up onto the big screen that is mounted on the wall. Coloured leaves fall and land as photos of Sierra. I look around for Callum to take over – he’s going to tell everyone about proxy boxes – but he’s gone. I catch a glimpse of him leaving via the side entrance. He was so nervous as it was; I shouldn’t have changed my speech at the last minute.

  Suddenly I’m panicked at the thought of going on with Callum’s part of the speech, which I’m not prepared for. I opt out. Instead, I open up a video file that shows Taylor Wolfe’s music clip for ‘Bad from day one’.

  They all see the likeness between Sierra and Taylor Wolfe and the uncanniness of the lyrics. It’s eerie and chilling, and by the end there’s hardly a dry eye in the hall.

  I’m not sure I wanted to make everyone cry like that. Maybe the Taylor Wolfe song was too much.

  Riley hugs me after the assembly ends, her face red and blotchy. She’s the only one here who already knew that story.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t come over t
he other night,’ she says. ‘I’m working through some stuff.’

  I smile. ‘We all are,’ I say. I wanted her to feel like she wasn’t alone, but by the hurt look on her face, I realise my response wasn’t what she was after. There’re too many people around to go into it and she disappears into the crowd as students gather to talk to me. I’ll have to catch up with her later.

  I look around for Callum – I need to apologise for changing my speech – but both he and Riley are making themselves scarce.

  At lunchtime I find Riley outside, alone.

  ‘Hey,’ I say. It’s awkward already.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘How’s everything going?’

  Riley looks at me like it’s a trick question.

  I cast my eyes to the ground. ‘I’m sorry about what I said that day, you know, about you not liking Sierra.’

  Riley nods.

  ‘Are you doing okay?’

  ‘Some days. Up and down. Everything’s changed. Everyone’s changed …’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ I say.

  She looks at me sceptically.

  ‘You’re still hanging out with Callum every day,’ she says.

  ‘He’s been helping with the website.’ I sound defensive. I soften my tone. ‘So, what did he say … about us.’

  ‘Nothing to me. He told Joel you made out.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘I don’t know. You’d have to ask Joel. Or better still, ask Callum.’

  This isn’t going anywhere, so I decide to change the subject to something a little more positive. ‘I’ve had a few queries from other schools about speaking about what happened.’

  Riley doesn’t seem to know what to say.

  ‘So at recess,’ I continue, ‘I googled booking agencies and sent an enquiry to one. Winston & Zeal. Can you imagine having an agent?’

  Riley stares at me as if I’m an alien. I ignore her and pull out my phone to check my emails. One from Mila Park, W&Z Speakers Booking Agency appears.

  ‘Oh my god, Riley, they replied! I can’t believe it.’ I’m gushing and blushing and jumping up and down. ‘I have to go. I’m going to the computer room so I can take my time and write back.’