by Fleur Ferris
‘The day Sierra and I found Jacob Jones on Mysterychat, Sierra told me you and she had kissed at the end-of-year party. I’d already heard about it from Riley, and I stressed all summer. I thought, of course you’d like her … look at her – she was hot as. I never thought you and I would get together, especially after that. So then I got talking with Jacob Jones. It felt so good to have someone like me like I thought he did. Then Sierra told everyone she was meeting him! I was so embarrassed … And then I watched you sitting there looking perfect and hot, staring at her. I thought you wanted her – everyone wanted her – and I wanted to be her. All up, I just felt like shit.’
‘Taylor,’ he says.
I keep talking. ‘And then you came here on Saturday. I thought maybe you were jealous because she was meeting him, but I wanted you to be here, and suddenly it felt like you actually liked me. I wasn’t going to ask questions –’
‘Taylor!’ he says again.
I stop.
He moves in, close to my face. ‘Just. Stop. Talking.’
His lips brush mine. His breath is warm and sweet. He pulls away for a brief second and touches the side of my face with one hand. His other arm slides in around my waist. He pulls me to him. Our faces are close, at the perfect angle. His chest is rising and falling, pressed hard against mine.
He leans forward and whispers into my ear. ‘I never kissed Sierra.’ He kisses just beneath my ear. ‘She was drunk and all over Quinton.’ He moves along my jaw and kisses me again. ‘I pulled her away, knew she’d regret it.’ He kisses me again, closer to my mouth. ‘Then she went to kiss me, but I pulled away. People saw it; some thought we kissed.’ He moves back. Our eyes meet.
‘Sierra confessed,’ I say. ‘She told me a few days later that you guys didn’t actually kiss, but I didn’t know if she was lying.’
‘She was telling the truth. I didn’t want to kiss her because I wanted to kiss you, Taylor.’
My senses are zinging. I bring my hands up around Callum’s neck and run them through his messy, straight hair.
We kiss again and again.
The same feelings for Callum rush back to me and, once again, I can’t believe how much I want this. Instead of pushing my feelings for Callum away, I push away the guilt. I miss Sierra and wish she was here and can’t imagine ever not feeling this way. But deep in my heart, I know she would want me to be happy.
My phone rings. It’s Kel. Callum and I break away from each other so I can answer.
He thanks me for my assistance and tells me they have finished monitoring our website.
Mum appears at the door. She’s dressed and ready to go to Rachel’s. Rachel’s blame is never going to release me. Sadness washes over me as she leaves. Losing Sierra has left a hole in my heart, and losing her family, another.
Callum’s mum pulls into the drive soon after Mum leaves.
‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay for a few hours on your own?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’ I kiss him. Tears fill my eyes. ‘Sorry. I’ve been crying all the time. I’m fine, though. Really.’
He kisses me once more before he heads for the door.
‘I’ll be back in the morning,’ he says.
‘Okay.’ I breathe him in once more before he leaves. I wave to his mum and then close the door.
I log on to Risk. I copy links to the latest news reports about Sierra’s case and post them into my blog. The title reads: Man charged with statutory rape and murder.
I share it on Facebook and Twitter and then, while I’m on Twitter, I search for Taylor Wolfe. I know she’d have a team of people doing her social media and I know it’s silly, but I feel connected to her somehow. Or maybe it’s a connection to Sierra through her. I look through her page, then go to close Twitter but stop.
I write: @TaylorWolfe, pls RT to help raise awareness. Then I add the link to Risk and post my tweet. Who knows? Her people might just do it.
I work on Risk until Mum arrives home, then we sit at the kitchen bench and drink peppermint tea.
‘How’s Rachel doing?’ I ask.
‘Cassy and Dave are there; they’re trying to work things out. She’s doing as well as you’d expect.’
I stare at the ground. ‘Do you still think they’ll get back together?’
‘I’m not sure, but yeah, I think they might.’
‘Do you think she’ll ever stop blaming me?’
Mum frowns while she thinks of the right words.
‘Rachel’s still blaming everyone – herself, mostly. She’s so angry, resentful, mournful … helpless … it’s going to take time. She told me she already knows all this blaming is wrong, but she can’t stop it. That’s something, at least for now.’
‘If I’d told you – told Rachel – when Sierra first called on Friday night, she may still be here.’
‘And maybe not. She was already with him. It may not have made one bit of difference. We can discuss ifs and buts all day long but we still won’t have an answer.’
I’ve been blaming myself because I thought that there was a time during that weekend when I had the power to stop it. But maybe Mum’s right. Maybe, regardless of whether I told or not, the outcome would have been the same. Maybe this is what Dave was getting at when he told me he didn’t blame me, that it was he who did it. Sierra just crossed paths with the wrong person. I may not have handled things very well, but I didn’t make it happen either …
I log on to Risk again. The views are off the record. I think that it must have been my post about Sierra’s killer being charged, but when I delve into the site, I find out the real reason why.
Taylor Wolfe didn’t only retweet me – she has also been on the site, reading blogs and leaving comments.
There’s a message to my inbox.
Dear Taylor,
Your website is awesome. I’ve used your link on one of my blogs to help the cause. May your dear and beautiful friend, Sierra Carson-Mills, RIP forevermore.
Taylor Wolfe x
What the …? Is that really Taylor Wolfe replying? Personally? I jump onto Taylor Wolfe’s webpage and see Sierra’s link on her blog and that Taylor Wolfe has written a few words about Sierra.
Oh. My. God.
Tears pool in my eyes and spill down my cheeks. Taylor Wolfe has been reading about Sierra! Taylor Wolfe was Sierra’s idol – it’s so tragic she will never know.
Or maybe she does know. Maybe, wherever she is, she’s as ecstatic about it as I am.
TWENTY-SIX
It’s been ten months since Sierra’s killer was caught and pleaded guilty. Today, he was sentenced to jail. I thought seeing justice served, knowing he will be in jail for a long time, would bring satisfaction. I was wrong. It brings a sense of relief, but not satisfaction. Sierra is still gone and nothing anyone does will change that.
People make their way to their seats. The city council runs event nights to allow people to come together and discuss issues within the community. Tonight’s topic is ‘online safety’. They purposefully scheduled it to coincide with the sentence hearing for Sierra’s case and because of that, it’s doubling as a memorial service. This is why I’m one of the guest speakers. Sierra’s family was also asked to say a few words, but they respectfully declined. I don’t know if they’ll even come. Rachel still holds me at a distance. Her forgiveness never came and it still pains me every time Mum goes over to visit, every time I don’t. Mum said Rachel was upset this afternoon, after the hearing. She didn’t think Rachel was in a fit enough state to come to this tonight.
Mum sits with Kel in the front row. He is also a guest speaker. Now the case is over he’s allowed to talk about it publicly. Mr Samalot waves to me from the fifth row. Callum and Riley are in the third row. I make eye contact with Callum and he winks. My nerves thrum inside every cell of my body. Mum had been right about the agent – I hadn’t needed one. After doing talks at a few neighbouring schools, no other schools really contacted me, which means that tonight is the largest crowd I’ve ever
addressed.
I’ve rehearsed my speech countless times and haven’t once made it through without breaking down. My outrage about Sierra’s murder is as raw as the day she was found. Sometimes I forget about it, lose myself in the moment, and then it hits me.
I’m up first. A podium sits to the left with my notes, my computer sits on a desk in the centre and there is a large screen behind me. More screens are situated halfway down the room, hanging from the ceiling, so those at the back can see me.
When I take to the stage, the crowd starts to settle and everyone faces me at the front. I glance around once more. The lights dim while the final few find their seats.
Three people sneak in, after the doors have closed. I freeze; my feet are rooted to the floor, my breath catches in my throat. It’s Rachel. She stands in the centre aisle. She’s dressed in a black business suit. Her hair is freshly coloured blonde and tied into a knot at the nape of her neck. Under her arm is a black clutch bag. Cassy and Dave stand either side of her, each holding one of her hands. I knew Dave and Rachel were back together, but seeing them like that makes my heart sing.
People hush and turn to see what I am looking at. Mum stands up, walks to the centre of the hall and motions for me to come. I walk down the stairs. Mum takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. We walk to Sierra’s family. Mum hugs Rachel, then stands back. Rachel looks at me. She holds out her arms and I walk into them. We embrace. I can’t hold my emotions in.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I sob. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’ I say it again and again. She holds me tight.
‘I’m sorry too, Taylor. I just … I can’t …’ Rachel can’t get her words out.
‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I understand.’
The crowd is silent. Kel is suddenly beside us, ushering us to the side of the room.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.’ It’s Callum’s shaky voice.
I look up. He’s holding the microphone so hard his knuckles are white.
‘Tonight is a very emotional night for many of us.’ As he continues, he starts to sound a bit more confident. ‘Today, Sierra’s murderer was sentenced to jail. So while the speaker is regaining her composure, I will introduce the man who was one of many who worked day and night on Sierra’s case and brought some justice into the world. Ladies and gentleman, please make welcome Senior Detective Kel Parkinson.’
Callum looks to me and takes a huge breath. It took a lot of courage for him to get up and say that.
‘Thank you,’ I mouth.
Kel walks up to the stage, climbs the stairs, takes the microphone and begins his story, starting from when he received that first phone call that said a teenage girl was missing. The crowd is completely captivated. Mum takes Rachel, Dave and Cassy to seats in the front row so I can recover and ready myself for my part of the speech. I’m all out of sorts now and much of my speech is out of sequence. I was supposed to speak before Kel, and again after him. I take a few deep breaths and hold them for five seconds each. I walk out the side door, place my hands behind my head and stretch out my back and shoulders. I take a few more deep breaths, then I hear the crowd applaud. It’s my turn.
I walk onto the stage. As I speak, I keep looking at Rachel. And just like it did that first time at school, my rehearsed speech goes out the window. I’m making this speech for her. To her.
‘I’ve been over that Friday night in my head a million times. The week leading up to it, the actual day … Not once did I think meeting him was dangerous. When Sierra didn’t show up when she was supposed to, I was angry with her.’ The heat of tears prick my eyes. I try to blink them back. ‘I’m so ashamed about that …’
I dab at my face and look at the floor for a few seconds. When I bring my eyes back to Rachel, Dave is comforting her, his arm around her shoulder. Rachel is crying but she isn’t turning away from me. Through her tears she smiles at me, and it’s like she’s telling me she wants me to continue.
‘Sierra and I shared a special friendship and I miss her every day. Sometimes when I go over that Friday in my head, I change things so Sierra comes back and all of our lives go on like normal. If I close my eyes and block out everything except that one thought, for a brief moment I have some relief from my pain. Other times, Sierra is alive in my dreams and that brings relief, too. When I wake, I have a few blissful seconds of drowsy confusion … But then reality hits me and it’s like a punch in the face. Days that start off like that are harder to get through and I have to remind myself that Sierra would want me to live a happy life.’
I’m nervous about what I really want to say, but Rachel is here and she’s listening.
‘I shared a special bond with Sierra’s family and I miss that every day, too. I get it, I do. Seeing me is painful for so many reasons.’ I forget the crowd and speak just to Rachel. ‘Seeing you guys is painful for me, too, because it reminds me of how things used to be, and what I’ve lost. And it’s not just my best friend. It hurts, but I understand. Just know that through all of the changes that have happened in the last ten months, my love for you hasn’t changed a bit. Rachel, you were like a second mum to me when Dad died – you cared for me, took me into your home and made me a part of your family and I will never forget that.’
Although it wasn’t my rehearsed speech, Callum can tell I’ve finished saying all that I want to. He stands up and passes sparklers and lighters through the crowd. Then he walks to the stage and gives me one, along with a lighter.
I smile. ‘Sierra burned bright and spectacularly, until the moment life was taken from her. So please, at the countdown from ten, everyone light your sparkler and hold it high. Ten, nine, eight …’ The crowd joins in the countdown. ‘… Three, two, one.’
The lights dim and the hiss of the sparklers fills the room. The brightness is almost blinding. When the sparklers finish, we leave the lights down for a minute. It’s a moment of sadness, silent reflection and respect. I touch the mouse and click on Taylor Wolfe’s ‘She shone like the stars’. The music starts, and it lightens the mood in the room. A slide show displays snapshots of Sierra’s life.
‘These beautiful, sad, funny, touching moments that were caught on camera are only a few of the ones I remember. Forever in my heart I will carry memories of Sierra’s laughter, love and energy. And I hope her story can bring awareness to others facing the same dangers of today’s world. Thank you for coming out this evening and sharing this important day with us.’
The lights come on and I stay on the stage. After the talk, people come and say a few words to me. When everyone begins to move out, I start to pack up my notes and my computer. But a girl with strawberry-blonde hair moves towards the stage. I recognise her straightaway.
It’s Fliss.
She meets my eyes and smiles, uncertainly.
‘Hi,’ I smile back. ‘Fliss?’
‘Yes. Actually, it’s Felicity. Hi.’
‘How are you?’
‘I’m doing okay. I’m still grounded, but apart from that I’m doing fine.’
I giggle but it ends sadly and an awkward silence follows.
‘Look, Fliss – Felicity – thanks for helping the police in the end. I know it was hard for you … I know he was nice to you and you fell for him and everything …’ I stop, feeling I’ve said too much.
Tears fill her eyes.
‘I’m so ashamed,’ she says. ‘Even after I realised the police were telling me the truth, I didn’t want to help because I didn’t want to admit how stupid and gullible I’d been. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I caused you guys – Sierra’s family, everyone – more grief. I came tonight especially to say that. I just wanted you to know how sorry I am.’
I walk down the stairs and hug her.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The cold bites at my face. Powdery snow swirls around and then settles. My fingers are snug in my gloves. Callum’s breath comes out as foggy plumes. He sits with his legs either side of the bench seat. He pulls me close and kisses my cheek. I lean back into his chest.<
br />
‘Are you warm enough?’ He opens the front of his coat and wraps it around me.
‘Yes.’ I pull my hat down over my ears. ‘She would have loved this, you know – us being here. She would have gone nuts, hanging out to see if she could catch a glimpse of her beloved Chumpy Pullin.’
We both laugh.
‘Is he here?’
‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t recognise him, anyway. How do you recognise anyone with all this gear on?’
Mum and Rachel walk towards us. I sit forward and Callum zips up his jacket.
‘Are you ready?’
I nod. I actually really do think I’m ready.
The chairlift takes us up and we swap into a small gondola. We scoop through the pine trees, further up the mountain. When we reach the summit, we sit in the cafe for a short while, preparing our minds. When we’re ready, we go back outside, click our skis on and edge out onto the run.
‘Follow me,’ Rachel yells.
As we drop below the crest and into the tree line, the wind stops. Rachel halts at the side of the run. She unclips her skis, stands them up in ungroomed snow, and indicates for us to do the same. We walk along a small path which leads to a fenced lookout. The view before us is sensational. Snow-covered mountains. They’re huge. I can’t stop saying how big everything is. Rachel pulls an urn from inside the front of her ski jacket.
Snow is in the air but it isn’t falling. It rises, floats, drops, swirls. It dances around us as light as the breeze. When you try to catch it, it swirls away from your fingers.