Forever Blue (5 page)

Chapter Seven

Lennon

Elmo threw a fit after the game. No matter how many times I turned the key, the engine refused to turn over. There was nothing, not even a splutter of life. Dead battery, no doubt. Everyone else had left the parking lot, so only a few of the teachers' cars remained. I considered texting Sienna to see if she would come back and rescue me, but the thought of her pulling up in her flash SUV and looking scornfully at my little Elmo was too much. It was a nice enough day. I could walk and get Mum to drive me down and jump-start my car later.

I don't know why the school was situated so far away from the rest of the town. It seemed like the planners had made a serious mistake. I guess they thought that the town would expand this way, but instead, the new development had spread in the opposite direction.

Puruwai weather could have all fours seasons in one day, and the sun was shining brightly again, so I slipped out of the maroon cardigan and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. The tree lined road offered some protection, and I decided to walk the long way home along the lake, rather than take the streets that cut directly to town.

Thanks to the extra homework Mr Watson gave us, my bag was heavy, and I switched it from shoulder to shoulder. A voice from under the trees startled me.

"Ringo, right?"

I turned to see Judah sitting with his back against a tree, playing with a strand of long grass.

"Oh, it's you," I said, a little surprised.

He grinned and cocked his head to the side. "It's good to see you too."

"That was a pretty rough game."

He squinted and wrinkled his nose, which appeared unaffected by his encounter with Ross' fist. "You saw that, huh?"

"Was hard not to."

He got up and dusted the grass off his shorts. "Mind if I walk with you?"

"Be my guest," I replied.

"Put our service to the test."

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Beauty and the Beast? Don't tell me you've never watched it. How can Ringo not be acquainted with the tale as old as time?"

"It's Lennon." Due to my conversation with Sienna, I was wary of him but still curious.

"I know." He grinned. "Sorry, I just haven't had anyone to talk to in a while. My conversation topics might be a little rusty."

I wasn't sure what to say, so we walked in silence. He didn't look like a killer, but then again, I had never actually met someone responsible for the death of another, well, not that I knew of, anyway. I tried to steal glances at him but he was always looking at me, and I found myself both unsettled and intrigued. I had never been one to demand attention.

After a while, he spoke again. "Do you usually spend your afternoons watching other people getting pummelled?"

"My friend, Sienna—"

"I know Sienna."

"She made me go."

He chewed his bottom lip and squinted, smirking slightly. "She made you?"

I nodded gravely. "She is rather compelling."

Judah kicked at the stones on the side of the road. "I left my car at work. I'm not stalking you or anything."

"If you say so." My heart started to beat faster. His presence unsettled me and I wasn't sure if it was a sensation I loved or hated, or simply just wasn't used to. "Where do you work?"

"You know the auto shop out on Stone's Throw Road?"

"The one with all the beat up cars sitting outside?"

"Yeah, that's the one. I just do odd jobs. I get to work on the cars sometimes, but usually, I just sweep up the garage, stuff like that."

We walked a few more paces in silence. "Lennon Donnelly, by the way." I held out my hand.

He smiled under his dark hair, and his eyes somehow looked less sad. "It is a pleasure to officially meet you, Lennon Donnelly." He shook my hand firmly and smiled again. Dimples creased his cheeks and caused one of the freckles on his face to fall lopsidedly.

The sun filtered through the trees, casting strange shadows on the road.  I watched the shifting shapes as I moved my bag from one shoulder to the other.

We reached the edge of the lake, and I turned in the direction that would lead to town.

"Come with me?" Judah said and started walking in the opposite direction.

"Where?" I asked.

"You'll see."

I followed him along the shoreline until we came to a willow tree. The dangling branches were still covered in green and hung like a curtain to the ground. Judah drew them back, and I passed through the opening as he let the curtain of leaves fall back into place. He sat and patted the ground beside him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, stretching his legs out and leaning back against the tree trunk.

I dumped my bag to the ground, sat beside him and stared out at the lake, framed by nothing but the mountains and sky. Lake Puruwai was known as the blue lake, and it was living up to its name. With the branches of the tree enclosing us, it was our own private beach. The stones on the ground below were damp from the shade, and the lake sparkled under the rays of the sun. Despite the sunshine, a few drops of rain fell from the sky and left rings on the surface of the water.

"So how was the rest of the day with your dysfunctional family? Everyone survive?" Judah asked.

"We all went out for dinner. That was fun."

He laughed. "I can imagine."

The water lapped silently onto the stony beach.

"So, your brother." I looked over at him hesitantly. His eyes were glued to the stones along the lake. "It must have been hard on your family."

If he was guilty of his brother's death, he didn't show it. He kicked a stone towards the water's edge, and it tripped along the beach before drowning.  "It was horrible. Mum and Dad haven't been the same since. Afterwards, my parents just shut down."

"I know the feeling." I thought of my own family's demise. Even though Harrison had never lived long enough for them to know what he was truly like, it was as though my father had pinned all his hopes on him. He was the child he had always longed for, and even though my parents had never voiced it, I knew I was nothing but a mistake. A mistake they loved, but a mistake, nonetheless. Harrison was the one who died, but I was the one who disappeared.

Judah shrugged as if to jolt the memory from his mind. "So do you always go around talking to random people at the cemetery?" There was a twinkle in his eye that wasn't there before.

I laughed. "Sometimes. Don't you?"

"Not personally, but each to their own."

"It's not often you see someone casually sitting on a headstone," I said. "I usually like to stay away from cemeteries. They kind of creep me out, all those bones decaying under your feet." I shuddered. "So many people mourning their loved ones, trapped at the cemetery instead of living the lives they should."

"I like to think it gives them some peace being able to visit a place to remember them by."

I snuck a glance. He was staring out over the water, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as though he were reliving a memory. "Is that what it's like for you?" I asked.

"I guess." He threw a stone into the water. "I mean, it does give me a certain sort of peace. But you find that creepy?"

"Not when you put it that way. It just saddens me that Mum and Dad have never moved on. Well, I guess Dad has now."

We walked home, talking about our families and our losses and all too soon we reached my house. It was the smallest house on the street. Made from panels of darkly stained wood, it was basically a rectangle dumped in a small paddock of grass which was in desperate need of mowing. A small fence stained the same colour as the house, ran around the perimeter, and we had a neglected vegetable patch in the back beside the clothes line. That was one thing Mum and I shared in common, a hatred of gardening.

"Want to come in for a bit?" I didn't know whether I wanted him to say yes or no. What Sienna said kept running through my mind, but I was struggling to believe it, and it was probably nothing more than schoolyard gossip.

He tilted his head to one side and gave me a lopsided grin. "Do I get to meet your dysfunctional family?"

"No." I pulled a face. "Dad doesn't live here, of course, and Mum will still be wandering the forest for inspiration." I pulled my keys out of my bag, inserted them into the lock, and swung the door open.

"Would be rude not to, I guess." And he walked through the door.

Once inside, I was keenly aware of how strange it would appear to anyone who didn't actually know my mother. Each of the walls in the lounge was a painted mural. The north facing wall depicted a view of the lake, complete with real stones and driftwood Mum had collected from the beach. The other walls just had items painted in patches; a tightly wound koru fern, the stem of a foxglove, clouds, white and fluffy in a blue sky, and a paua shell reflecting the colours of the ocean.

Judah's brows lifted high as he looked around and he whistled low and long.

"Mum thinks she's an artist," I said.

"She's good." 

"She's okay, I guess. After you live here for a bit you kind of switch off to it. I barely notice them anymore." I dumped my bag on the kitchen table. "You want something to eat or drink?" I opened the fridge and scanned the contents. There wasn't a lot to offer, unless he wanted lemon and ginger infused water.

"I'm good, thanks." His voice drifted through from the lounge where he stood, still transfixed by the paintings. I couldn't tell from his expression if he liked them or was appalled by them.

"I've been here before," he said. "I knew the people that lived here before you. The house was different back then, though. It was less…" He paused. "Less colourful."

I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite before going back into the lounge and collapsing onto the couch. He wandered around the room, taking his time to examine each of the paintings. I watched him carefully, and when he stood in front of one of the painted walls and ran his hands through his hair, little goose bumps erupted over my skin. The conversation was stilted and awkward, but somehow it didn't matter.

He stopped at the patch of paint where my mother had camouflaged my likeness into the lush greenery of the forest and traced the lines with his finger. "I like this one the best."

I couldn't take my eyes off him.

"Bathroom?" Judah asked.

"Down the hall, second on the left."

I leapt from my seat as soon as I heard the door click shut. There was a large mirror above the fireplace and I took the opportunity to check my reflection. My hair, as usual, had flown in all directions from the walk home. I hastily took a hair tie lying on the mantelpiece and twisted it until my hair hung in a messy ponytail.

Judah cleared his throat behind me.

I jumped, my heart pounding as I turned to face him. I took a few moments to regain my composure, the heat rising to my cheeks at the thought of him watching me attempt to improve my appearance, even though I knew it was a pointless endeavour.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He took a step towards me, an amused look on his face.

"You didn't," I said too quickly.

We stood in silence for a few moments. He stared at me unabashedly until I couldn't look back any longer and dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Guess I better get going," he said finally. "Would it be okay if I walked you home again tomorrow?"

I couldn't help but smile shyly and shrug my shoulders. "Sure."

Chapter Eight

Lennon

I read romance novels. I knew how it was supposed to work, the butterflies in your stomach, the exhilarating happiness that occurred every time you looked into each other's eyes. It had just never happened to me. I was too wrapped up in the practical. Where some people saw golden locks and charming smiles, I noticed the way one eyebrow curved differently than the other, or where spit collected in the corner of someone's mouth. People were people. I didn't get carried away by the packaging.

So why were things so different with Judah?

I changed out of my uniform, grateful to pull on some old track pants and a comfortable tee shirt, and pulled the lawn mower out of the garden shed. It took three tugs before it spluttered to life. It didn't take long to mow the lawns, but the whole time my mind was muddled. I couldn't get the image of his mournful eyes out of my mind, or the hint of happiness that seemed to appear when he spoke to me. Maybe it was just as he said. No one talked to him anymore, and he was just grateful for a friend.

Mum pulled up the drive just as I was dumping the grass clippings into the compost heap, or rather, just a glorified pile of organic rubbish.

"Help me with these, would you?" She tugged at the grocery bags and gave me a pointed look. She had only bought groceries yesterday. For all the times she went to the store, it was strange that we never had any decent food in the house. I wandered over, took the bags and carried them inside.

I waited for her to comment on the lawns but I don't think she even noticed I had cut them. "I need you to give me a ride back to school."

She pulled out some whole grain buns and free-range pork sausages from the grocery bag. "Elmo?"

I nodded.

"Battery?"

I nodded again.

"Let me have a shower first. Can you take care of this?" She nodded to where she had left the jumble of food on the table. "I won't be long." By then she was already making her way down the hallway towards the bathroom. I looked at the groceries scattered over the table then followed her. The steam was already pouring out of the partially open door.

"Do you know the Mitchells?" I yelled through the open crack.

"Ahhh …" The stream of the shower muffled Mum's voice. "I went to school with the mother, Nava Vagen was her name back then. Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious. I met one of the sons." I tried not to sound too interested.

"She married into money, something to do with a hotel chain, I think. One of the sons died last year. A car accident." The shower turned off, and Mum poked her head around the door, a towel wrapped tightly around her chest and another around her head. "Why the interest?"

"He was at the cemetery."

Mum adjusted the towel around her chest, frowned a little and then dismissed my questions from her mind. "I'll be ready in five."

By the time I finished putting the groceries away, Mum was ready, hair still damp but makeup bright and gaudy. We jumped into her car and drove to school where poor Elmo was sitting forgotten and lonely in the carpark. Mum took the jumper cables from where they always remained in the boot of her car, ready for such occasions as this, and I attached them to the battery. Elmo burst into life first try.

I took a detour on my way home, driving down Stone's Throw Road. I knew I shouldn't, but I simply couldn't get him out of my mind.

The Mitchells' house was down a long, tree-lined driveway. I couldn't see much from the road, so I pulled over to the side, hopped out and began to walk down the drive, careful to remain near the trees so I could hide if I heard a car. The entire time I was inwardly telling myself off and almost laughing, or maybe it was crying at myself. The driveway was endlessly long and a number of times I considered turning back, but something pulled me towards the house. Call it curiosity, call it insanity, call it stalking, but regardless, I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to stop myself. There was something in me that was drawn to him.

The Mitchells' house was more like a mansion than a house. The driveway ended in a circle enclosing a pond, complete with a fountain of a naked boy peeing water back into the murky green depths. The gardens were perfect, not in a manicured way, but with tumbling trees and vines, splashes of colour and wisps of mystery. The house itself stood large and imposing with ivy creeping over the walls. White columns framed the entrance way and the stone walls were covered in small windows edged with ivy. There were so many windows that I couldn't imagine the number of rooms inside. Everything spoke of money and opulence.

As I crept closer, I could hear music, head bashing music, coming from the garage, which, not surprisingly, was about three times the size of our house. I hid behind a tree when I saw Judah bent over a car, wiping the bonnet until his reflection glimmered back. The car was jet black and had a shiny silver emblem on the front. It must be his father's. It looked too formal and expensive for any teenager to own.

Judah sang along to the music as he polished the car, occasionally stopping to play air guitar to the solos. He had on a white singlet top, low slung jeans and a beanie pulled down over his hair so only the dark ends stuck out from under it, and his jeans were smudged with black grease. He turned to look down the driveway and wiped his brow, leaving a grease mark across his forehead, and my heart beat a little faster, thinking I had been discovered. Feeling a little disgusted with myself, I turned and made my way back down the driveway, unsure why he had this effect on me.

Later that night as I lay in bed, I tossed and turned under the sheets. Sleep eluded me. The image of Judah kept replaying over and over in my mind until I seriously wondered if something was wrong with me. I simply couldn't shake him from my mind.

I must have fallen asleep at some stage because I woke up with ragged and desperate breath, my curtains fluttering in the breeze. My dream was beautiful. Beautiful and terrifying.

I was sitting on the swing at the playground down by the lake. It was deserted, apart from Judah and me. We were alone in the moonlight, and it was raining. The swing creaked as I rocked back and forth and waves gently licked the stones.

Judah's skin was pale, shimmering iridescently in the dim light of the moon. As he breathed, puffs of air swirled into the darkness.

"Come to me."

I stood and walked towards him, the swing swaying with my departure. He smiled, and I put my hand in his.

"You are beautiful."

I believed him. In that moment, in the dark recesses of my dream, I was the most beautiful girl in the world. He pulled me to him until our bodies pressed close together. He let my hand slip from his and stroked my face. Our breath mingled as a vapour in the night.

Slowly, he moved his lips towards mine, but it was an eternity before we touched. My heart swelled. My chest felt like it was going to explode. His lips were cold and sent shivers down my spine. Rain splattered on my cheek. His hands pressed against my back, pulling me closer and closer until the pressure began to bubble as panic.

I couldn't breathe.

I tried to pull away, but he held onto me, his lips locked on mine.

My desperation was real. I was powerless to escape, and the thing that scared me the most was that I didn't want to. Darkness invaded, pulling me deeper and deeper into his kiss. My chest constricted. I needed to breathe, but I was powerless.

Then, I woke, gasping for air.

The curtain fluttered in the breeze again, and I sat up, wrapped the sheet tight to my chest and willed my heart to stop pounding.  Suddenly cold, I got up and pulled the window shut.