Phoenix (8 page)

‘I know it. But that’s what we’re doing, right?’ Now that I could see Phoenix, I felt my heart twist with pity. I longed to smooth away his frown, kiss him into a state of forgetting.

‘Is it?’ He drew a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I don’t feel good about putting pressure on the people I love – my mom, Zak, and now my dad is here too.’

‘I understand. But getting to the truth was always going to be hard – the way it was with Jonas, and with Arizona and Summer.’

Phoenix gave a small shake of his head. ‘If it gets uglier – what then?’

I took both of his hands and made him look right at me. ‘Then we stand together and face it, you and I. We don’t back off. We get there.’

Slowly he nodded, his eyes locked on mine, his hands grasping mine. But a mist was surrounding him, a halo of light forming. He faded and was gone.

I felt a soft, warm wind in my face. It stayed with me all the way down the banking, along the road past the white church and the boarded-up hospital, along the streets leading to my house, then it disappeared.

I reached home at noon and found Laura’s car parked on the drive when she should have been working.

‘Where’s your car?’ she asked, back to old-style Gestapo mom.

‘Why aren’t you at work?’ I threw back. There was a pile of papers spread out on the table, and I’d noticed a stack of big cardboard boxes on the porch.

‘Come and look,’ she invited. She showed me pictures of houses and details giving square footage, information on garages and basement space, bathrooms, views of the lake. ‘We’re looking for a quick and easy move so it has to be a rental property. Jim visited two realtors’ offices this morning and they came up with these.’

‘It’s still no,’ I insisted, pushing the papers away.

‘How about this one in Forest Lake? It has lakeside views.’ She showed me a picture of a small grey house with a gable and a porch, pretty much a replica of the one we currently live in.

‘Not even remotely interested.’

‘Forest Lake is only fifteen minutes from here. You could still drive into school.’

Suddenly everything was different. ‘I’d stay as a student at Ellerton High?’

‘If that’s what you want,’ Laura offered.

‘Yeah, it is.’

‘Then this is the right house for us.’

What did I care, so long as I got to keep my friends? I stayed to eat lunch with Laura then walked into town to pick up my car from outside the Rohrs’ house, where luckily there was no sign of life.

For me, driving my car with the top down frees up my thinking, untangles the knots.
I need to be clear on my way
through this mess,
I thought, stopping at a red light.
The
only member of Phoenix’s family who will even talk to me is
Michael Rohr and there’s no point going there
. The light changed – green for go. I cruised on, out of town, following the route Brandon and I had taken earlier in the day.
Then
there’s the cops. Hunter told me that Dean was able to check
out some files on the killing – the official investigation didn’t
find a weapon, and there were no named suspects
. For me that looked like another blind alley, though the new sheriff was back on the case, digging the dirt about Foxton.
Maybe he would turn up something new.

Coming out of town and heading for the open road, I passed the gas station.
Why don’t you check out the scene
of the crime?
a familiar voice inside my head suddenly suggested.

I braked hard. ‘Arizona?’

Concentrate on your driving. Take a left into the service
station. Try to pick up a new lead.

I signalled, mistimed my turn and cut across an oncoming driver. There was a squeal of tyres followed by a blast from his horn.

Jeez, Darina!
’ said Arizona-in-my-head.

‘I know. My nerves are shredded. Anyway, you’re not even supposed to be here on the far side!’

I’m not. You’re hearing imaginary voices, going seriously
crazy like everyone says.

I pulled up on the oil-stained forecourt, close to the pay point. ‘This had better be good,’ I grumbled, getting out of the car and walking right into an example of what the media would call compassion fatigue.

The name on the gas station cashier’s plastic badge read
Kyra
. She glanced up at me from behind her display of gum and chocolate bars. ‘Gas?’ she asked.

I picked up a packet of gum then dug in my pocket for
change. ‘No, just this thanks.’

Kyra went back to reading her magazine as she held out her hand for the coins. She had black, bee-hived hair, Cleopatra eyes, French-manicured nails and an expression that said
I hate my job.

‘Can I ask you something?’ I said. ‘Were you working here the night my boyfriend got stabbed?’

The question broke her off from her astrological chart for a whole two seconds. ‘You’re the girlfriend?’

‘Yeah. I got here too late.’

‘Now I remember.’ Kyra went back to her magazine.

‘You were the person who called the cops?’

‘That was me.’

‘You saw what happened?’

Sighing, she folded down the corner of her page and closed the mag. ‘Honey, I already answered questions from the cops, the TV, the newspapers, a million rubberneckers – they were crawling all over this joint. What’s left to say?’

‘Could you just go through it one more time?’ I pleaded.

‘Somebody, give me a dollar bill for every time I tell this story,’ she sighed as she looked me up and down.

‘Please. It’d mean a lot.’

‘You’re really young,’ she sighed, softening at last. ‘I
guess Phoenix was too. What was he – nineteen?’

‘Eighteen, a year older than me.’

‘I never knew him before this happened, though I went to school with some of the older guys – Vince Hall, Oscar Thorne, Robert Black.’

‘They were there, right? That’s why you called the cops.’

‘Yeah, the late arrivals were bad news.’ Kyra finally got over her fatigue and was warming up. ‘The place was already a mess – kids had overturned trash cans, there were hoses spilling gas everywhere. Those punks were wild. But Vince Hall and his buddies put the thing into a different league.’

‘Scary,’ I shuddered.

She nodded. ‘You get five or six guys in leather jackets riding up on serious Harleys, you know you’re in trouble.’

Soaking up every detail, I tried to steer Kyra towards my main question,
Who killed Phoenix?
‘Up till then no one got hurt?’

‘No, but those kids sure did a great job of wrecking the place.’

‘And how did the whole thing start?’

‘Wouldn’t you and everyone on the planet like to know?’

‘Did you get it on CCTV?’

Kyra shook her head. ‘The camera ran out of tape two days earlier. I informed my boss, but he let it slide. And that night I was here in the office doing my job so I didn’t see the fight break out. The first I knew, seven or eight kids were throwing punches, bouncing each other off car hoods, throwing stuff around.’

‘And one of them was Phoenix?’

‘Actually, no,’ she said. ‘He drove a black truck, right? And the way I remember it, he was standing by his truck, having an intense conversation with a kid in a black Chevy.’

‘What did the Chevy driver look like?’ I double-checked my facts.

‘Round face, long hair. Dark.’

‘Nathan Thorne. Let me get this straight – Nathan and Phoenix were talking but they weren’t fighting?’

‘Not when I saw them. I didn’t pay too much attention. I was speaking to my boss on the phone and he was saying call the cops. Then Oscar and Vince plus the rest joined in and it was World War Three.’

I needed time to think this through while Kyra took care of a customer. When she was done, I was ready with my next question. ‘So you know that Brandon Rohr was there too?’

‘Yeah, I noticed him. What’s not to notice?’

‘He’s hard to overlook,’ I agreed, offering her a piece of gum. ‘According to Brandon, it was Nathan and Phoenix who started the fight.’

She took the gum and slid it into her mouth. ‘No way,’ she insisted. ‘Those two were still talking way after the first punk threw a punch. Then the big guys joined in and that’s the point when Nathan got involved. I guess he had something to prove, but in my opinion he should’ve picked on someone in his own league.’

‘So who did he pick on?’ I asked as steadily as I could.

‘Nathan Thorne took a piece of steel pipe from the trunk of his Chevy,’ my new star witness told me. ‘The guy he hit was Brandon Rohr. I swear to God, he laid him out flat.’

Deer Creek drew me back. It was noon, I was feeling a million miles from Phoenix and even further from solving the mystery of how he died. So I went to the place we knew best.

I played Summer’s songs as I drove, sad songs like ‘Without You’, ‘Invisible’ and ‘Red Sky.’
Red sky when I say
goodbye, Red sky makes me cry Forever
… Crimson was the colour of the clouds over Amos Peak while I waited for Phoenix that last time.

My life splits into three and the sections don’t overlap: Before Phoenix, During Phoenix, After Phoenix.

Before Phoenix – I was a normal kid whose main skill was in the super-bendy department. Double-jointed is a bit freaky, it gets you noticed. Plus, it puts you top of the gymnastics league for under-tens. Gymnastics, ballet, and a tiny, budding talent for playing guitar. A major talent for misbehaving after my dad left home.

During Phoenix – a blur of ecstasy and open air, summer kisses. This beautiful guy-loved me. For two and a half months I held my breath and prayed it would last.

After Phoenix – I was all pain and emptiness. Another blur, nothing is real. Friends and family try to help but they can’t. I push them away. The closest I come to being able to describe it for Kim and once for Zoey, because she went through it with Jonas, is the sensation of losing my balance and falling down a dark hole that has no bottom and the sides are so smooth there’s nothing to catch onto.

After Phoenix I fell and fell into blackness.

And then I drove out to Foxton and found the Beautiful Dead.

Today, at Deer Creek, the sky was intense blue and clear. The sun was at its highest point, the granite rocks
sparkling pink and grey. I picked some white flowers, stepped down the steep bank, took off my shoes and held up the light fabric of my white dress as I waded into the clear, cold water. I climbed onto the boulder in the middle of the stream and perched there, my knees drawn up under my chin, my arms clasped around my legs.

‘Hey, Darina,’ Phoenix whispered. ‘You’ve been busy.’

‘Back again?’ I turned my head sideways and smiled at him.

He sat in a glow of white light next to me on our favourite rock, legs dangling over the edge, dark hair lifted back from his face by the breeze. He wore jeans but no shirt or shoes. ‘I’ve been talking with Hunter and working stuff out,’ he sighed. ‘I still think this whole situation sucks.’

‘Don’t talk about it.’ Turning towards him, I knelt up and edged in closer, wrapping my arms around him, feeling the cold smoothness of his skin. The softness of his lips made me melt.

The creek ran and gurgled, swirled and eddied, the sun beat down.

Phoenix kissed me for a long time, one hand stroking my face and neck. I ran my fingertips down his back, tracing the angle of his shoulder blade, imagining the small death-mark tattoo.

‘What will I do without you?’ I whispered at last.

He leaned away from me, looking at me through half-closed eyes.

‘You know I want to go with you,’ I sighed.

‘You can’t. You have to carry on.’

‘I don’t know how.’

‘We’ve talked about it. You go on, live your life. I’m always with you.’

‘If we can’t cheat this destiny thing, and I agree we can’t – won’t you take me with you instead?’ I would go with Phoenix wherever the Beautiful Dead went when their time was up.

‘You know I can’t. It’s hard. Don’t make it even harder, please.’

‘You won’t take me?’

He shook his head, taking the soft fabric of my sleeve between his fingers. ‘I love you with all my heart, Darina. You know how that feels? It’s total and it’s overwhelming. I’m lost in my love for you.’

I kissed him and wanted it to last for ever.

After a lifetime, Phoenix pulled away. ‘I want you to promise that afterwards, when I’m gone, you’ll still come here and talk to me.’

‘I promise.’ My voice was a sigh, a whisper, a sound like leaves rustling in the breeze.

‘Here, on this rock. You’ll talk to me and I will hear.’

‘Will I hear
you
?’

‘If you believe. And if you want to enough.’

I will hear his voice in the running water, in the wind from the mountains, in the rustle of the grass in the meadows. I’ll remember the low, slow sound of his voice and the soft touch of his lips.

‘Hey,’ I said at last, tearing myself away and refocusing. ‘And I thought
my
family had problems.’

‘Enough kissing?’ he asked.

‘No way.’ I leaned in again with a small, tender brush of my lips against his. ‘But we should talk. I just learned some new information. Do you know Robert Black and Vince Hall?’

Phoenix thought a while. ‘Vince hangs out with Oscar Thorne.’

‘Right. Likewise, Robert Black. The gas station cashier identified them, said they were bad news when they showed up that night. I guess the cops interviewed them, along with twenty others.’

‘These two – they would come up with a story and stick to it.’

‘And the other witnesses, the younger kids – they wouldn’t risk stepping on the big guys’ toes?’

‘That’s the way it works,’ Phoenix agreed. ‘Brandon was
always totally clear – you don’t mess with drug runners and their gangs.’

‘Which leads me to ask why Brandon lied to the cops,’ I said, not fully prepared for Phoenix’s reaction.

He leaned right away from me and launched himself from the rock, striding through the water towards the far bank then staring up at the mountains. ‘This is what I meant earlier – the thing gets uglier, the more stones you turn.’