Risk

by Fleur Ferris

  I’m happy to be here, alive. But this doesn’t mean I’m glad it was Sierra instead of me who went to meet the guy who took her life. It makes me feel guilty because they seem to be opposite feelings. Can I feel relieved without that reflecting on how I feel about losing Sierra? Can I feel fear and anxiety when I think about how close I came to being in Sierra’s shoes, without me seeming selfish or callous?

  I am glad I’m alive. I’m devastated Sierra’s not.

  These two statements are unrelated.

  Have you ever experienced guilt? How did you cope with your situation?

  I post, tweet and Facebook it.

  With each post that I make I feel weight lifting from my shoulders. Expressing how I feel is some kind of release. I want people to understand. I want Callum and Riley to know. And Rachel. Especially Rachel. I want her to read Risk. Sometimes when I write, I write what I want to say to her.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The week drags on. I’ve seen Callum and Riley chatting at lunch a few times, but they were sitting in a different area. As I walked past, I pretended I didn’t see them. From the corner of my eye, I saw Callum stop talking, his eyes following me. In that moment, all of my senses were tuned in to his and my peripheral vision expanded, my hearing ability heightened. I’m sure I could hear him breathe. Once I passed them, the other noises started up again as if it hadn’t happened.

  I make sure I don’t walk past there again. I don’t want double confirmation they have taken up a new spot without inviting me. I spend all of my recess and lunch hours in the computer room alone, working on Risk.

  The last blog post pushed the views to forty thousand. But having no one to share the joy with ruined it.

  ‘Sierra, are you there?’ I say under my breath. ‘The world loves you.’

  I look around to see if there’s a sign that shows she is with me. Nothing.

  Our last class of the day is English. I feel like skipping it because the theme at the moment is conflict and it’s confronting and makes me feel uncomfortable. I’m sure Ms Duerden knows Callum, Riley and I had a falling-out and has been tailoring the classes to us.

  The tables have been set up in a ‘U’ shape. I’m hot and flustered when I arrive so I sit as close to the door as possible so the aircon breeze rushes over me. It cools me down, but my hair flaps into a big mess. There’s nothing glamorous or sexy about it, not like Delta Goodrem and her giant fans.

  Ms Duerden sits on a table at the front of the class, top centre of the rectangular ‘U’. I don’t look at Callum or Riley, but I know exactly where they are. If Ms Duerden is at twelve o’clock, I am at one o’clock, Reilly is at four o’clock and Callum is at seven o’clock. A few students sit between Riley and me, obscuring our view of each other. I’m sure Riley sits there so she doesn’t have to see me.

  ‘Good afternoon, everyone. Today we’re doing an exercise on perception. Conflict often arises due to differences in perception. There’s a handout in front of you. We’re going to read it aloud and then discuss examples of differences in perception.’

  Everyone groans. Ms Duerden raises her voice and talks over us.

  ‘You will then write something similar. Nothing too big – I know this is the last class on Friday and you’re all itching to start your weekend, but before you do that you will write at least two paragraphs that show the same situation through two sets of eyes. Taylor, could you please read the example for us.’

  I pick up the handout and start reading.

  She sits beside him and gazes over the city as he drives across the bridge. Clouds build in the west. They are spectacular, deep-purple bulges, with blue and white bubbling beneath. The perfect concoction of atmospheric gases and sunlight make up the image before her. It will only look like this for a few moments, then the late-afternoon sun will drop lower, altering the light, changing the vision before her. She smiles as she takes in its beauty. She feels privileged to have seen the world at this exact moment.

  He changes lanes, glances over the city and whistles through his teeth.

  ‘That’s one huge mother of a storm coming,’ he says.

  The class laughs at the difference. It kind of reminds me of one of Cabe Osric’s photos. Amazing clouds over a city, captured in exactly the right light …

  … And it reminds me of that stormy beach shot that Fliss sent …

  Shit.

  Fliss’s photo of the guy on the stormy beach.

  Fuck!

  I stand up so fast my chair falls over.

  ‘Tayl–’ Ms Duerden starts to say my name but then stops.

  I can hardly breathe. The stormy beach photo is a Cabe Osric. Fliss’s guy is in Cabe Osric’s beach photo. I need to see it again. I meet eyes with Callum. He is frozen to his chair, staring at me. He knows something is wrong.

  ‘I need a computer,’ I say to him.

  ‘Taylor, what is it?’ asks the teacher.

  ‘I need a computer. I need Cabe Osric’s website up and I need Risk up.’

  Callum and Riley know instantly. Riley has her computer out and is online in seconds. Her hands shake as she taps the keys.

  ‘I’m on Cabe Osric’s site,’ she says.

  By this stage, the class is getting restless. I think I hear a couple of students ask Ms Duerden what’s going on, but I’m barely listening. I walk over and spin Riley’s computer around. All my attention is focused on what’s on the screen. I’m trembling as I flick through Cabe Osric’s gallery. There it is. It’s the same one as Fliss’s, I’m sure of it.

  ‘I’m on Risk,’ Callum says. His voice is hoarse.

  I pull his computer over beside Riley’s. Ms Duerden is behind me. Callum jumps the table so he can see, too. I click into Risk’s private email, pull up Fliss’s photo, and open the JPEG …

  It is. It’s Cabe Osric’s photo. The guy has been photo shopped in. And although the guy in this photo is not the same guy who was in Sierra’s, he has the same look. His face is turned away from the camera. He has suntanned skin, sandy-coloured hair, a fit body. He must have that look, too.

  ‘Fliss – the girl who sent this in – she’s meeting him today. Him – it’s the same guy!’ I say to Callum.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ says Callum. He runs his hands through his hair. ‘We’ve gotta call the police.’

  ‘Do you have the number of that detective?’ I ask.

  ‘I do,’ Riley says. She fishes into her bag, brings out her wallet and pulls a business card from it.

  I check the time as I dial the number. School finishes in half an hour. My call goes straight to voicemail. I dial again. Same.

  ‘He’s not answering!’ I say.

  ‘Call triple zero,’ Callum says.

  I do. My fingers are clammy and grab at the screen.

  ‘Police, fire or ambulance?’

  ‘Police,’ I say. I’m transferred and now it’s ringing. It’s taking too long. Crap. Crap. Crap. I check my watch. This is ridiculous.

  ‘Police emergency, how can I help you?’ a woman says.

  ‘I need police to go to the St Kilda Marina …’ What if they go to the pier? ‘… And maybe the pier as well.’ I speak so fast my words run into each other.

  ‘Your name, please?’

  ‘Taylor Gray.’

  ‘Your address?’

  ‘What?’ If I could, I’d reach through the phone and shake this woman.

  ‘Your address, please.’

  ‘This is really urgent. We need the police sent immediately.’

  ‘If you answer my questions quickly, police will be sent quickly. I need your address.’

  I give it.

  ‘Your date of birth?’

  WTF? I give it. ‘What is the nature of your complaint?’

  ‘There’s going to be an abduction at the St Kilda Marina or the St Kilda Pier.’

  ‘What makes you think this?’

  ‘A girl by the name of Fliss has sent me a photo of this guy. But he’s a murderer. This guy killed my friend, Sierra
Carson-Mills – and Fliss is going to meet him today after school.’

  ‘What’s Fliss’s full name?’

  ‘I don’t know her full name! I don’t even know if Fliss is her real name! That’s her username on my website.’

  ‘What does she look like?’

  Fuck!

  ‘I don’t know what she looks like! I just know that she’s going to meet this guy.’

  ‘What’s the guy’s name?’

  ‘I don’t know. He used “Jacob Jones” last time.’

  ‘How old is Jacob Jones and what does he look like?’

  ‘I don’t know what he looks like! He may have sandy-coloured hair, a fit body … er … honestly, I don’t know. If I knew all of this, the police would have caught him already.’

  ‘I’m dispatching a car to that location. Please stay on the line.’

  I hear her clicking on a keyboard.

  ‘Okay.’ Frustration laces her voice. ‘They’re on their way.’ She pauses. ‘I still need more details so please stay on the line. We’re looking for Fliss, who may not use that name, of no description, and Jacob Jones, who does not use that name, of no description. These details are very sketchy. Can you tell me anything else?’

  I check the time again.

  ‘I don’t know anything else! I only know that Fliss is in danger. She’s meeting a murderer!’ My words hang in the air.

  ‘Okay. I still need more details, please. Can you tell me again how you came by your information?’

  Oh my god. I have nothing else. How many times do I have to say it?

  ‘Just send the fucking police!’

  ‘Please refrain from using such language, Ms Gray. The police have been dispatched.’

  I check the time. If I leave now, I might be able to make it.

  ‘Sorry. Look. Can you do one thing for me? Contact Senior Detective Kel Parkinson and tell him Jacob Jones is meeting another schoolgirl, username Fliss, at the St Kilda Marina or the St Kilda Pier this afternoon. He’ll know what to do.’

  The woman repeats what I say as she types. She reads it back and asks me to confirm.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. As the woman asks me why I need my message passed on to Senior Detective Parkinson in particular, I hang up and start running. I can make it.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Callum yells after me.

  ‘St Kilda Marina. I think I can make it,’ I shout, as I run down the corridor.

  I hear a commotion behind me. Ms Duerden telling me to stop. Callum screaming something I can’t quite hear. I don’t have time to stop. I let Sierra down by not going with her. I won’t let Fliss down. I bolt across the oval. There are trains every twenty minutes at this time of day. I can hear a voice behind me. Callum is following me. I don’t look back, don’t stop. I turn onto the footpath towards the train station. My lungs burn. I keep pounding my legs. I sprint to the train station. I can hear one coming. I turn and start crossing the overpass just as the train stops at the platform. I can see the train sitting there, its doors open, as I fly over the top of it and turn down the ramp.

  The doors close and the train slowly starts to move away.

  ‘No!’ I scream. ‘Wait, wait!’ The noise of the train moving out of the station drowns out my words.

  Tears of frustration and rage prick my eyes. I thump the side of the train, screaming at the top of my lungs, but it doesn’t stop. I look across the tracks at the road where I’ve just come from and see a taxi rank. But a train is coming in from the city. It will be here before I can cross the overpass and the passengers will take all the cabs. I eye the tracks and the height from the tracks back up to the platform. Can I climb up that high in time? Callum yells my name from the overpass. I look up for a brief second but I’ve made my decision.

  I dash towards the edge and leap from the platform down to where the tracks are. I land awkwardly on the stones and nearly fall over. I have no time to spare. A train is coming in.

  ‘Taylor!’ Callum screams.

  But the driver has seen me and the squealing brakes of the train drown out Callum’s voice. I can make it. I fly across the rest of the stones and then scramble up over the rise and onto the platform before the train is anywhere near me. I’ve made it.

  I bolt to the first taxi.

  ‘To St Kilda Marina, please.’

  The driver turns to me, obviously surprised by the request. I’m breathing hard and my face is red-hot. His mouth turns into a frown as he considers me.

  ‘You got money?’

  ‘Yes,’ I lie.

  ‘It’ll cost about eighty bucks to get across town at this hour. Show me the cash.’

  ‘Please, it’s urgent.’

  ‘So is feeding my wife and kids. Now get out of my cab.’

  ‘Someone might be killed!’ Tears fill my eyes.

  ‘Out,’ he says. He gets out of the car, walks around to my door and pulls it open. ‘Get out and get going, before I call the police.’

  I sneer at the taxi driver as I climb out of his car.

  Callum is standing on the other side of the platform watching, his chest heaving from running. I check my watch. Time is running out. I’m not going to make it.

  I think. Sierra’s mum lives about five minutes from here. But Rachel hates me …

  I rack my brain for something else. Nothing.

  I have to try no matter what.

  With my stomach churning, I start running towards Rachel’s house.

  Please be home, please be home, please be home, I chant to myself as I sprint.

  I pound the front door way harder than I expect and make a huge noise. I hear her inside, rushing to answer.

  ‘Rachel,’ I say. ‘I need your help, it’s urgent.’

  Her face pales with the shock of my invasion.

  ‘Rachel, I’m so sorry about coming here. I would never … But I’m desperate. I need your help. Please …’

  Rachel’s jaw drops.

  ‘Please,’ I say. ‘Jacob Jones is meeting someone else. The girl doesn’t know it’s him.’ Tears run down my cheeks. ‘I know I should have gone with Sierra. I will regret that for the rest of my life. Please, we might be able to stop –’

  ‘Taylor, I’m not the right person to be chasing this guy who, for whatever reason, you think could be Jacob Jones.’

  ‘I know … I know you’re not the right person, but you’re the only person I’ve got. I just missed the train and then the taxi driver refused to drive me to St Kilda because I have no money. Please. Please help me, we’re running out of time.’

  Rachel brings her fingers to her eyes and presses in hard.

  ‘Taylor, I can’t do this. This is police business. Call them and please leave.’

  ‘I’ve called the police. I couldn’t reach Kel and the triple-zero lady said she sent a car out there but she doesn’t get it. I think she thought I was making it up or something because I couldn’t give names or descriptions. Rachel, you can hate me forevermore – I can’t change what happened – but by not helping me now, you’re doing the same thing I did. What are you going to say to Fliss’s mother when her daughter doesn’t come home tonight?’

  Rachel flinches. I know I’ve hit a raw nerve. I feel cruel. How much more pain can I inflict on her?

  It’s my turn to rub my eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll go.’ I start walking to the door.

  ‘Wait,’ she says. ‘I’ll take you.’

  I close my eyes and take a huge breath. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘We have to hurry. I don’t even know if we’ll make it in time.’

  We don’t speak in the car. Rachel glides through the traffic, but I can’t stop drumming my fingers on my leg and checking my watch every thirty seconds. Every stop at the traffic lights is painful. Seconds tick by. Minutes. It’s just hit three-thirty. School is out. Unless Kel has been able to stop her, Fliss will be on her way.

  It’s just after four when the Marina comes into view. The traffic is heavy and slows to a snail’
s pace. I could walk faster than this.

  ‘I’m going to get out here,’ I say to Rachel.

  Rachel’s eyes fill with tears. ‘Be careful,’ she says.

  Her words almost make me stumble as I swing my legs out of the car. I turn back, meet her eyes, then slam the door and run.

  Adrenaline surges through my body. My legs feel light and I move fast. There are people everywhere – on skateboards, walking dogs, holding hands, jogging, standing, sitting. But I can’t see any police cars. I scan the car park and the path along the beach. I see a young couple sitting on a park bench. They sit close, but they’re not touching. The girl is small, brunette. I pictured Fliss blonde, like Sierra, but that doesn’t mean she is. The guy has light-brown hair. It could be them. I yell Fliss’s name. The girl doesn’t turn around. I yell it again. I’m running towards them. They stand and start walking to a car.

  ‘Fliss, stop. Fliss!’ I yell. I catch up with them. I grab her arm. She jumps back, startled. ‘Are you Fliss?’ I say.

  ‘No!’ She shakes her head, steps away from me, eyes wide. Her guy steps in between us, shielding her.

  I look at him and realise I sent a photo of myself to Jacob Jones. He knows what I look like. A chill passes through me. I look around him to the girl and lower my voice.

  ‘I’m Taylor from the Risk website.’ I breathe hard through my words. ‘Do you know me?’

  ‘No. I have no idea who you are,’ she snaps.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. I turn away from them. I walk backwards, slowly turning, looking for anyone who might be Fliss. Another couple walks along the path. I take off towards them, shouting Fliss’s name as I run.

  The girl is tall, older than I expect Fliss to be. They seem familiar with each other. I don’t think it’s her but I ask anyway.