Losing Faith (Surfers Way) (3 page)

“She must have walked,” I say to Quade’s steely face.

We decide to drive home, scouring the streets on the way. I try to ignore the acid that gurgles in my stomach as Quade, Mack and I get into his car. I kick off my sandals and stretch out my toes.

Leaving without her … this doesn’t feel right.

Quade is a much more sensible driver this time around. He doesn’t treat his vehicle as if it’s a V8 supercar, instead letting the engine hum as he rolls around the streets of Runaway in search of his MIA sister.

No one has uttered a word since we got in. I should try and lighten the mood somehow. After all, for all we know Faith is already in bed, probably crying herself to sleep after douche boy broke up with her. Instead of thinking about Byron, I decide to focus on Quade and his stellar driving.

“Congratulations,” I whisper, and pat his closest hand on the steering wheel.

“On what?” he asks, taking a glimpse in the rear-view mirror.

“Caging your inner rev head,” I say and bite down on my lip.

“I’m a regular Driving Miss Daisy after dark.” His lips pull into a devilish smirk. His eyes don’t leave the road as he turns onto Surfers Way, the busiest road in town. It’s the main route between Eden and Faith’s house. If she decided to walk, then this is where we’ll find her.

Quade flicks on the high-beams, lighting up the bitumen and surrounding trees ahead. I prop one elbow back into my seat and scour the edges of the road for my BFF.

Windows down, we call her name out into the night.

I squint as a shadow on the opposite side of the road catches my eye. It’s just within reach of the lights.

I grip Quade’s bicep. “Wh … what’s that?” I say, leaning closer to him.

It could be anything. Someone dumped some rubbish. Something fell off the back of a truck.

The car is silent.

Quade rolls the car to a stop, the lights revealing more of the dark shadow.

That’s when we all see it.

It’s when we all know.

“Faith!” I scream. I scramble for the handle and kick my door open as my heart rages a war inside me. What’s happened?

Mack is already out of the car and running.

“Faith!” I cry out over and over, chasing Mack. Loose gravel bites into the pads of my feet as I rush to the still figure lying down.

“Fuck!” Quade growls beside me. “Faith.” His voice trembles. “No, no, no.”

My eyes widen at the confronting sight. A pool of blood glistens in the crevices of the rough black tar beneath her head. Her blonde hair is stained red at her temple. Shards of mirror are strewn around her body.

But her eyes …

“Faith,” Quade roars, matching the intensity of the scream that wails from my mouth.

“Faith,” I whimper. She
has
to be okay. She has to be. But I know she’s gone because life no longer flickers in her eyes.
Those eyes …

I choke on a sob. My chest constricts and I gasp for air.
Is she …

“Faith,” Quade barks as he kneels at her side, as if snapping at her will bring her back. He places two fingers on the side of her throat.

Time slows. None of us move.

I hold my breath, waiting. “Quade, tell me something?” I beg as tears barrel down my face.

He removes his hand from her skin. His eyes don’t move from her, as he slowly shakes his head.

My legs come out from under me. I fall to my knees, numb. Mack crouches beside me, her body trembling as she hooks her arm around my shoulders.

Quade hauls Faith’s lifeless body into his arms. Her blood paints his shirt as he squeezes her to his chest. The muscles in his jaw tick. Tears bound down his flushed cheeks.

He weeps into her hair.

“She can’t … No!” I cry out.

Trembling, I wrap my arms around them. Mack holds me from behind. Sobs overtake my body.

My heart splinters like the broken shards beneath us.

What’s left to hope for when Faith is gone?

What should have been a time of celebration, has turned into a time of mourning. Family, friends and classmates say their final goodbyes today to a beloved member of the Runaway Beach community. Class captain, scholar with top marks, and every promise of entry into Law, Faith Kelly was declared dead on the scene just hours after celebrating the end of year twelve. Injuries to the local eighteen-year-old girl are consistent with a hit-and-run incident, leaving many questions surrounding her death.

Despite noise made by the local residents’ group over the last year about street racing on the notorious Surfers Way stretch of road, local government has failed to take action.

Police are calling for assistance from members of the public, and encourage anybody who may have information, no matter how insignificant, to come forward. Call Crime Stoppers on 1800 333 000.

Visions from the morning news continue to haunt my every thought. From the moment we found her every memory has compounded in my head, raising so many questions. As each day passes, I become more desperate for answers.

The ornate timber casket front and centre at the altar is closed. Not that I could look at her again if it was open. What I saw that night I can never unsee. The wooden box is masked with an arrangement of white lilies.

I can’t stop myself from staring at the large framed photo of her on the easel beside it. Her long blonde hair flows in the breeze with the rolling waves of Runaway Beach behind her, her blue eyes sparkling with the hopes and dreams of an eighteen-year-old destined for greatness.

The minister calls Mack and I up to the podium. On shaky legs I stand, and take Mack’s sweaty hand in mine, gripping it tightly all the way to the wooden stand.

Mr and Mrs Kelly hold each other close. The way they’ve comforted each other today, you wouldn’t even suspect that this time last week, they’d been considering a divorce.

Faith’s parents and extended family look at us as if we were the ones driving the car that claimed her life. Do they blame Mack and I because we should have all been together, looking out for each other?

I set my eyes on Quade. His gaze is fixed on the portrait of his sister. I desperately need him to look at me, to give me something, anything that tells me how he’s feeling. I’ve tried to talk to him in the last week, but he’s completely shut down. It appears he’s not talking to anyone, and I sense a rift with his parents from the stiff body language in church. I haven’t seen his mother shower him with any kind of affection or form of comfort, and anytime he’s tried to approach her, his dad has stepped between them.
What the hell is up with that? Shouldn’t they all be leaning on each other at a time like this?

I pull the wrinkled handwritten note from my pocket, a piece of paper I’ve man-handled for the last week. Sadly, I ended up writing most of it myself, because Mack couldn’t deal. I know we’re all taking this hard, but Mack is in a bad way.

I clear my throat and take in a deep breath as I adjust the microphone. A few sniffles echo throughout the vast room, and then silence cloaks us all.

“On my first day of kindergarten, I met Faith. I knew I’d met someone special. A friend for life.” I reach beside me and take Mack’s hand in mine. It’s clammy and her slim body is shaking. I hold her hand tighter as a show of support.
I can’t choke up now.
“When we were seven, along came Mack. Since then, the three of us have played, we have laughed, and we have cried. We have shared our fears and have always had each other’s backs. There won’t be a day that goes by that we won’t think of you, Faith. Your laugh, your smile, your encouragement, and your everlasting friendship.”

I wipe my jacket sleeve under my eye and draw in a shaky breath. “Heaven is lucky to have an angel like you.” My voice chokes as I prepare for my final words. “You’ll forever be in our hearts. Best friends forever.”

I turn to Mack and pull her into a bear hug. Tears barrel down my cheeks, smearing against hers as I hold her tight.

“Thank you,” she breathes. I can’t even respond for fear of choking and spluttering into a bout of ugly-crying, in front of everyone.

We slowly step down from the podium. Mack returns to her seat beside her family, and I sit between Mum and Dad. My parents take a hold of my hands, their firm grips steadying me as the emotions of the day try to strangle me.

---

I close the squeaky door of the cubby house behind me. This was our go-to place. All three of us would retreat to the wooden hut in Faith’s backyard. For the better part of our primary school years, we practically lived here. I used to grip a hold of the doorframe, protesting when Mum came to take me home.

I trace my fingers over each of our names etched into a giant pink graffiti heart on the plaster wall. In our younger years, it said ‘Best friends forever’, but before the end of high school, ‘friends’ was crossed out and ‘bitches’ scrawled in its place.

Below our names are at least a dozen smaller hearts where over the years, each of us declared our crushes. For me, there was only one. ‘I <3 O’, but it was meant to be a Q. Mack and Faith thought I meant Ollie Stevenson, but when he came out of the closet, the jig was up. I never wrote another one after that. I could never declare my feelings for Quade because I couldn’t bring myself to tell one of my best friends that I had a whale-sized crush on her brother. It wasn’t a crush. I was in love with him. I’m guessing that’s what love feels like—when your heart hurts like a mo-fo each time you see them and you desperately wonder if they feel the same way or if you’re just a stupid teenage stalker.

I run my finger over Faith’s heart drawing, representing her love for Byron. A week ago, they were going to take it all the way. Faith never got to lose it; instead, she lost everything. Her future. Her dreams.
Her life
.

Life sucks so hard. Of all the people who deserved happiness, who had everything going for them, life was taken from her, leaving a whole town in mourning in its wake.

I plonk myself down on the small white timber bench seat, take the bottle of Midori out of my bag and crack the seal.
Please let each gulp of this sugary green liquid make me forget
. The blood. The glass. Her hair matted with clumps of red.

Her eyes …

When two-thirds of the bottle is gone the dizziness sets in. Where is Mack? Why was she in such a hurry to leave? We were once three, inseparable, and now I’m here … all alone. I never thought our summer would start like this. We had our whole lives ahead of us. We were going to tackle it together. I know I have no idea what I want to do with my life, but Faith was the one friend I relied upon to push me, to stand beside me. Who’s going to push me now? Who can I trust with all my weaknesses, my fears? No one understands me like Faith did. Mack and I are close, but not like Faith and I.

Hot tears stream down my cheeks and once the blubbering starts, so does the ugly-crying. I would have thought the last week would have dried up any tear reserves, but they just keep on coming.

A light knock on the door has me sniffing back a cavalcade of snot. I wipe my eyes with the sleeves of my black jacket.

“What?” I grunt out. I don’t care who’s out there. I need time in here alone. Unless it’s Mack, and I’ll apologise for yelling, but then again she left as soon as the service at the cemetery was over. It wouldn’t be her. I can’t believe she’s moving to Sydney early. We were supposed to have the summer together.
The three of us.

Today Mack was so quiet. I swear she’s dropped a few kilos in the last week. I totally get that because my appetite is non-existent.
Yet I insist on drinking a stupid amount on an empty stomach.

The door creaks on its hinges as it’s slowly pushed open.

When I see his familiar dreamy face, I swallow down a sob. I need to keep myself together. He’s lost his sister, and I can’t even comprehend how that would crush your world. That usual sparkle in his eyes is lost, and his face looks as though it would crack if he so much as tried to smile. He’s a ghost of the outgoing guy I’ve known pretty much my whole life.

“Didn’t you see the ‘no boys’ sign on the door?” I choke out, wiping the wetness from my cheeks.

“I’m not a boy.” He’s got me. Quade is far from a boy, and that is more than evident in the cut of the black suit he’s wearing.

He sits beside me, the bench wobbling with both our weight. “You’re drinking?” he asks, in the “big brother” tone he used to take with Faith when he’d find us from time to time out here sneaking a swig.

“You’re welcome to join me.”

“We both know how this will end. You can’t handle your booze.”

He’s right. I’ve puked in his garden more times than I care to count. Once he had to sober me up and walk me home because the other girls were in the same state and useless to help.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

He tugs the bottle from my stiff grip and sets it down beside his black leather shoes. “How about not drinking, then?”

I loop my hand through the crook in his arm and lean my head against his shoulder. As I take in slow breaths, his divine aftershave teases at my nostrils.
Holy hell he smells delish.
I will myself not to break down. I know he saw me ugly-cry that night, but I don’t ever want to do it in front of him again.

“Thank you for saying something today,” he says and clears his throat. Quade loosens his tie and rubs his straightened fingers across his creased brow. “I wanted to …. I just couldn’t.”

I place my hand on his shoulder. “No one blames you for not being able to.”

“Nah, they blame me for other things.” He shakes his head and rests his elbows on his knees, knotting his long fingers together in front of him.

I turn to him and stare him down. “Who and what on earth are they blaming you for?”

A heavy sigh leaves his lips, but the tension doesn’t budge from his broad shoulders. “It doesn’t matter.”

I weave my hand between his and he grips it, so hard that I fear he’ll cut off my circulation. I don’t move because the distraction and the pain feels good. For a million years I wanted to hold his hand, but never, ever like this. His pain and sorrow bleed into my fingers, seeping into my bloodstream and choking the pathways to my heart.

“Are you okay?” I ask, but I know the answer. Quade remains silent for the longest time, staring at the chipped timber wall behind me. Did he hear what I said?

“My baby sister is gone. Nothing about that is okay.” He swipes the wetness from his flushed cheeks and storms from the cubby house. “I came to tell you that I’m leaving tonight. I can’t be here.”

“You’re going?” I call out after him, my voice more of a shriek as it chokes under the fear of losing him too.

He doesn’t turn back, leaving me more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life.

I turn to the one friend I have left.

Midori is her name.

---

I wake the next morning with a slamming headache and a warm body lying next to me.
Oh no
. Even though he’s face down, arms gripped around his pillow, with that wavy chocolate hair I know exactly who it is.

The last thing I remember I was in the cubby house ... I went in search for more alcohol and then …

My stomach does a giant back-flip and I cover my mouth, sure that I’m going to vomit. The wave doesn’t come, but a deep ache centres in my heart.

He was getting in his car out the front of the Kelly house when I stumbled down the driveway. I asked him to drive me to the shops. He comforted me when no one else was around. He was nice, but then what on earth happened?

I sit up and look beneath the bed sheet. I’m naked and droplets of dark blood stain the striped sheets, a smear crusting against my inner thighs.
Oh God
. Muscles ache down there that shouldn’t. My heart hammers in my chest and I clutch at my throat as I struggle for breath.
No
.

I lost my virginity to Jamie Fairfield.

My heart sinks into a pit of bubbling acid in my stomach. I was saving myself for Quade.

What have I done?

Wait.

Did we even use protection?