Forever Blue (16 page)

"He lied?" Cara snorted. "Sure he did. Pity we can't all see him, you know, just to double check. Awfully convenient for you, though, isn't it, Judah. Ruben admits to lying after he's dead, when no one but some lame teenage wannabe-psychic can hear him. Judah, as much as I hate you, I almost feel sorry for you. This girl is clearly telling you things you want to hear. I'm all for letting your freak flag fly, but I hope you're not paying her for this so-called psychic ability."

"Tell her that I'm not the only one who lied," Ruben said, gripping my arm and dragging me towards Cara. "There's something I know that Judah doesn't."

"Ruben's not the only one who lied," I repeated, my voice robotic and cold.

"No?" Cara shot back. "And I suppose he's telling you this?"

"Yes." It was hard to face the intensity of the accusation in her expression. "You lied too," I added, almost a whisper.

"Lying is part of life." She snorted. "But tell me, since you think you know everything, what did I lie about?"

Ruben walked over to Cara and looked directly into her eyes as she glared through him at me. "You lied to the police," he said, his voice quiet and controlled. "You told them that you saw him get in the car and drive away that night. You told them you saw him, but you never did, because he wasn't the one who drove."

For Cara, Ruben wasn't there. But for me, he was. And he was pleading with her, begging her to forgive his brother, even if it meant hurting her in the process.

"Well?" she demanded at my hesitation. "You can't just throw accusations around like that and not back them up."

"You lied to the police," I said. "You lied to the police about seeing Judah drive away that night."

"What would you know?" Cara said dismissively, but there was a glitch in her expression, a quiver of hesitation that slipped through.

Ruben talked frantically and I rushed to repeat his words. "After Ruben told you that Judah drove that night, you went to the police and told them you saw him ask Ruben for the keys and then drive away. You said he was swerving over the road, that he was drunk. That was a lie. Judah never drove that night, he left earlier than Ruben, that much is true, but he walked, and Ruben picked him up later that night when he left. You also convinced Alex to change his story with the police from merely seeing headlights at the scene, to seeing Judah's car. There was no proof it was Judah's car."

Cara didn't say anything. She glanced over at Judah, then back to me. Her lips moved but no words came out.

"Ruben has read the police reports," I continued. "He knows the truth. You told him what you were going to say to the police depended on his answer and he has regretted that answer ever since, but you had already decided Judah was guilty. You never hesitated. It wouldn't have mattered what he said."

Judah stepped forward. "You lied to the police about me?"

"But Ruben said you drove home." For the first time, Cara's hard mask slipped. "Why would he say that if it wasn't true?"

"Why did you?" Ruben shot back at her, and I repeated his words.

"Because—because I needed someone to blame. He was guilty. He is guilty." Her mask slid back on and she stormed over to Judah. "Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you defend yourself, if you're not guilty?"

"I tried," Judah said. "But you wouldn't listen."

"That's because you never told me the truth! Why didn't you tell me what really happened? Why didn't you try?"

Judah hung his head. "I did. And then I couldn't."

"Why?" she yelled.

"Because," he implored.

"Because why?" she asked again.

The first of the fireworks exploded in the night sky. Ruben's face, pale and haunted with terror, was illuminated by the flash of light, while Judah's tortured expression begged for Cara's forgiveness.

"Why?" she asked again, quietly this time, in-between gunshots of exploding light.

"Because it was me," Ruben said.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Judah – the previous year

The rain poured down mercilessly. It was just spitting when I walked away from Ruben, but as I turned onto Stone's Throw Road it bucketed down so hard, I was soaked within seconds. It suited me. I didn't want to see the world. I had already seen too much that night.

When I was thirteen years old, I attended an outdoor education camp, boys only. One night Cara snuck in, tapped on my window, and we both slipped out into the forest. I was terrified. It was dark and the moon filtered through the trees, casting strange shadows of things that crept through the night. But Cara took my hand, the one that proudly wore the bracelet she had given me a few months earlier, and laughed. She made me taste a leaf that shone silver in the moonlight. It was hot and peppery and left a burning sensation in my mouth.

When I was fourteen, she snuck into my room and convinced me to help her steal one of the water bikes chained on the shore of the lake. It was calm and still as we paddled out to the middle with nothing to guide us but the light of the moon. Cara dove into the water, breaking the perfect reflection of the moon, and sang like a warbling siren tempting me to a watery grave, waving a bottle of bourbon that we never drank because it tasted foul.

When I was fifteen, she climbed the side of our house and tapped on my window. She had stolen one of the old wrecks lying around the paddocks of her house and we went for a joy ride. The car was rusted and old, but its engine sounded more beautiful than any I had heard, probably because it was mixed with her laughter. I bought the car from her father as soon as I got my learner's license.

When I was sixteen, even though I knew it was coming, even though I had been waiting for the day ever since I met her, Cara Armistead broke my heart.

I guess they thought I wouldn't see. Ruben drew Cara away from the light, but the flicker of the flames from the bonfire illuminated their faces. I saw them kiss. I knew their secret.

I was going to walk away. I knew when I was beaten. But Cara sauntered over to me, walking the way she did, smiling the way she did, and I couldn't leave. I couldn't turn away.

She stopped in front of me and peered intently, blinking innocently. But as she looked into my eyes, her smile slipped and her gaze dropped to the ground. "You're upset."

"I'm fine," I growled.

"No, you're not. Your nostrils are doing that thing. You and Ruben have the same tell."

"Just drop it, okay?" I said.

Her eyes narrowed and she stared at me intently. "You know." Her gaze dropped. She crossed her arms and twisted her foot into the dirt, only stopping when she peered up apologetically.

My whole body was heavy. I had been fighting a fight I only just realised I would never win.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"He'll never choose you."

She looked up. "He already has."

"You aren't the first girl to think that. Just tell me one thing, why him? What's he got that I haven't?"

She shrugged and attempted a grin. "It's always been him."

I wasn't prepared for those words. They hit me hard. I leaned back against the car and hung my head. "For me, it's always been you," I said, but my voice betrayed me. It broke.

"Judah." She stepped forward, her hand outstretched, but pity tainted her actions. I didn't want her pity. I wanted her to look at me the way she looked at Ruben.

I pulled away violently. "Don't. He'll never end up with you, you know that, don't you? Ruben is a people pleaser. He likes to do what's expected of him, and it's expected that he'll end up with some pretty little thing from a good family, a family with money. And she and Ruben will form the perfect little family, and push out some perfect little bratty kids. You're nothing more than a quick thrill for him, a dalliance from the wrong side of the tracks, from a family with a crazy mother, and a skank for a little sister."

Tears gathered in Cara's eyes and she swallowed. "Why are you being so cruel?"

I swallowed the guilt I felt and looked down at the ground. I had never spoken to Cara like that before. I had never spoken to anyone like that before. I was ashamed, but I was also angry and hurt, so I just stared at the ground and refused to meet her eye.

It was then that Ruben had appeared with Lana. Cara didn't get to say anything more before she took off after her sister. I wanted to go home. I didn't want to look at her. I didn't want to look at him. I wanted to forget this night ever happened, so I grabbed my jacket and started the long walk home.

A car drove past and water sprayed over my feet. It pulled to a stop a few meters in front of me and the door flung open.

"Hop in," Ruben yelled.

Without a word, I climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

"Look," Ruben said as we pulled back onto the road. "I don't know what she said, but Cara and I are nothing but friends."

I angled my body away from him and stared out the window. The rain pelted against the glass, blurring the darkness beyond it. We passed the solitary street light at the intersection. The rain smudged the glow and reflected it a million times over in each of the droplets. The road twisted and turned as it followed the shoreline of the lake. The burn of the bonfire shone in the distance.

"I don't know what she said to you, but it's not true. We're not together." His voice pleaded with me. "Judah, please."

But still, I didn't answer. I didn't want to talk about Cara with him. I didn't want to talk about Cara at all. I felt like a fool. I knew this day would come, but I walked into it anyway. I had run to it with arms flung wide. I had no one to blame but myself. Despite my brother's reassurances over the years that he didn't like her like that, in the end, he took her away from me anyway. I should've known.

Ruben reached down and flicked on the radio. "Fine. Don't talk."

The wipers swished in time to the music. Ruben's hands clutched the steering wheel, but he kept looking at me, his pupils dark and unsettled.

"You were supposed to drive that night," I said finally. If I couldn't talk about Cara, I could talk about that.

"So?" He was defensive.

"If you'd done what you said, this would have never happened."

Ruben laughed. "So you're blaming me?"

"Is there someone else I should be blaming?"

"You're the one that drank and got behind the wheel. We could have called Mum or Dad to come pick us up. I didn't force you to do it. It was all you."

Anger swelled. "All me? Are you serious?"

"You can't go blaming me for your mistakes, Judah. You need to take responsibility for your own actions."

"You sound just like Dad."

"And that's a bad thing? Maybe if you listened to him a little bit more, people might think differently of you."

I looked over at his pressed shirt and perfect hair. "Just let me out." I rested my hand on the door handle but Ruben sped up. "Let me out," I growled. But he put his foot down, and the engine roared under the encouragement. "Ruben, slow down!"

"You think that it's easy being me?" Ruben flicked his gaze between me and the road, his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, flashing white.

I gripped the edge of my seat and pushed on an imaginary brake pedal. "Just slow down."

"Dad expects everything from me. Everything. Not you, though. No, you're allowed to hide away in your room playing video games. Do you think it comes naturally? That I don't have to try?" Ruben jerked the steering wheel as we rounded the first sweeping corner that rose above the cliffs over the lake.

I fell against the door with the movement and adjusted myself back in the seat. "Oh, I'm sure it's really difficult being you, Ruben. Like the way you have girls literally falling over you, but you still go for the one girl that I like."

"Cara doesn't mean anything to me!" he yelled.

"Right. Well, that makes me feel better. Not only do you steal my girl, but you did it just to piss me off."

"That's not what I'm saying," he growled.

"It's not? It's what it sounded like to me."

Ruben glared. The radio crackled and died. Then something shone white in the headlights and Ruben swerved. But it was too late. There was a thud. A terrible, horrible, dull thud. The car skidded and slowed, and Ruben pulled over to the side of the road, eyes wide and scared.

"What was that?" he asked.

"A sheep, probably," I muttered. "They're always getting out on this road. The farmer really needs to look at the fences." I nodded to the paddocks on the other side of the wire fence, just beyond the ditch, opposite the lake.

"Get out and check," Ruben ordered.

I peered at the rain pouring from the sky and shook my head. "You. You're the one who hit it."

Ruben jerked off his seatbelt. "Fine." He pulled his hood over his hair to protect its perfection from the rain and stepped out. Wandering around the vehicle, he peered into the grass on the side of the road. He was soaked when he hopped back in. "Nothing there. It must have got up and ran away."

"Bullshit it did. Nothing gets up from a hit like that."

"Well you go look!" he yelled.

"Is my car okay?" From the force of the hit, I imagined a large, sheep-like impression on the front grille of the car.

"I didn't check for damage on your shitty car, Judah."

"Well, get out and check."

"It's pouring with rain."

"You're already drenched."

"Fine," Ruben said again, shoving the door back open. He walked to the front of the vehicle, gave me a spiteful thumbs up, and walked to the rear. I watched his reflection in the side mirror as he peered into the ditch. It was filling with rain and becoming more of a creek than a ditch. Something caught his eye because he bent over and looked closer. He froze. He crouched there for a long time until headlights rounded the corner in the distance.

I wound down the window. "What is it?" I yelled. But Ruben didn't answer and stalked back to the car, hunched against the wind and rain and yanked the door open.

"What was it?" I asked again when he slammed the door shut.

He pulled back onto the road, the tyres spitting gravel into the grass as headlights rounded the corner behind us. "Nothing," he said. His knuckles were white, wrapped around the steering wheel.

"What were you staring at? It wasn't nothing."

"It was a sheep, okay? Just like we thought, a sheep."

The headlights in the distance gained. Ruben looked in the rear vision mirror and stepped on the accelerator. "Look, I'm sorry about Cara. I never meant for things to go as far as they did. I never meant for anything to happen at all. She came on to me, okay? I never meant for it to happen, okay?" Ruben released his tight grip on the wheel and drummed his fingers nervously. "Shit," he said, hitting the wheel with his palm. "I never meant it to happen, okay?" His eyes shifted from me to the rear vision mirror. "Okay?" he repeated. "Just say okay!" he yelled.

"Okay," I repeated.

But it wasn't okay.