Roadkill (LiveWire) (13 page)

Checking my watch I see smiley Sue should be tormenting someone else at this present moment so I ring and leave a polite message, informing her I would adore to come and ‘explore my emotions’ as she puts it, but I have a doctor’s appointment. I do actually, the hospital want to check my leg and remove that horrible plasticky burn dressing. Putting one over on a Vulture always makes me childishly satisfied.

By the time I log onto LiveWire I’m buzzing again, and clutching a hot mug of coffee like it’s going to rescue me from my low mood. As I thought, the message from Kelly has an emoticon next to it – a little face blowing a raspberry, which, according to the forum rules means she has issued a challenge and because I’m a member I have to accept it, or lose a star. Bugger that! I’ve only got one star, although I am assuming she doesn’t know that, and Kelly is annoying me with her brash Americanisms and blustery self confidence. My message box is full of hey I did this, that, jumped off a cliff, dated a movie star etc….

Of course I’m not totally stupid, I bet she made half of it up, but as she lives in L.A. I can’t prove anything. Even the supposed videos and photos of her are so shadowy they could be anyone. I take a gulp of coffee, and study her forum picture. Unlike a lot of people, who have symbols, or pictures of cloudy skies, cartoons and other naff stuff, she has an actual photo of herself. Tanned, blonde, blue eyes, and California girl white smile, she is almost like an L.A. version of my sister, with the same crazy energy emitting from her picture.

Scowling at her I message back:

‘Off to pick up my next star on sat…..catching u up!’

She comes right back with:

‘omg it’s a hard one – good luck.’

Stopping myself from typing
‘whatever’
I notice it’s past six, and I’m going to be late for Leo. A quick look at Rose’s past messages for clues to this chicken dare, and I’m snagged by one photo she posted early on. About two years ago, when she joined, she put all this information about herself, including this picture of me and her horse riding. She is twisted in the saddle, confident, careless. I am crouched forward, one hand gripping the mane of my dopey looking piebald pony. Mum took the photo and I remember her yelling at us to wave and say cheese. It was all I could do to stay on let alone raise a hand.

The contrast between us is even more pronounced than usual, and despite my lateness, I study it for a long time, before hastily logging off, taking the stairs two at a time and swinging round the banister (ouch).

To save time I find myself grabbing my bike from the garage. The pedals are entangled with Rose’s but I yank it impatiently, until hers crashes to the ground and mine comes free with a jerk.

I look for a split second at Rose’s six speed blue mountain bike, and then carefully prop it against the concrete wall, stroking a gentle hand over the dusty plastic saddle. We were riding our bikes to college for my first day of A-levels. Rose was off to the sports centre to hang out with Ashley afterwards. She managed to leave school at sixteen and nab her first modelling job a week later. But that was just Rose.

This is the first time I’ve ridden my bike since she died, and I force myself to concentrate on the road ahead. Mr Watts is out washing his car again. He smiles at me, and I go to ignore him, then think what the hell, he’s an old man. I wave and he looks surprised for a moment, then beams, wrinkles disappearing into wrinkles, literally glowing with pleasure. Jeez, wish I had that effect on most people. Like my boyfriend for instance.

It niggles me that we haven’t actually talked about the fact we are ‘going out’, he hasn’t called me his girlfriend. We haven’t been to any parties together. Maybe, I think with a bit of paranoia he’s ashamed of me. Plus he hasn’t text me yet today. Snap out of it I tell myself crossly, you have a clingy best friend, you don’t need a clingy boyfriend as well!

I round the corner by the bridge, pedalling more slowly, reaching in my pocket to touch Rose’s picture, and ride straight into a girl.

“Oh god I’m sorry!” I swerve, wobble and crash in my ineffective efforts to avoid her.

“You stupid cow. Look what you’ve done!”
             

Of all the people I could have run over, it’s Anita. Typical. Her orange mini dress is streaked with bike oil, and I am mortified. Not least because I have just fallen off in front of the biggest bitch in town, and am struggling like a kid to get up and right my bike.

“Look sorry okay! I’ll…I’ll buy you a new one.”

She narrows her weasily little eyes at me. Why do all the boys fancy her? “Only kids
’
ride bikes Caz. Most people drive.” Ouch, a dig at me still not having passed my test.

“Why aren’t you then?” I ask her innocently, rubbing my arm, straightening the handlebars.

Anita flips a mirror from her black patent bag, checking her reflection, scrubbing at her dress with annoyance. “Forget it. You couldn’t afford to buy designer anyway.” She looks at me curiously, “Are you seeing Matt?”

Go for it Caz, “Yes, Yes I am. Problem?”

She smirks, “None. I’ve already had him. He’s a rubbish kisser isn’t he? All these skater boys are. Think they’re so hot…”

I study her for a moment, unruffled, just knowing she is lying, “Why do you hang around after them then?”

“Oh,” she gives a big fake yawn, “It’s just so boring around here. I’m going to uni next week, so I guess I won’t see you again. No loss.”

“You’re right. It’s no loss, but don’t worry about me, I’m off to art school, St Martin’s. And the bike? It’s not just for kids, I’m doing an ultra triathlon in February. The one at Higham?” why did I say that, when I have no intention of emulating my big sister. The athletic thing was her dream.

Anita narrows her ratty eyes again, preparing for a dignified exit, taking in my denim shorts, yellow vest top, and flip flops, “Yeah, I can see you’re training hard. You can’t bring Rose back Caz, by pretending to be her.”

Ouch. Of course the bitch has no idea what I’m up to, but all the same….ouch. A flicked v sign, and she’s gone. I ride slowly on to Leo’s, hardly noticing The Road, mindlessly dodging afternoon traffic. I also note neither of us mentioned the bracelet. I never went to pick it u
p, never even answered her letter
. Of course, normally I would never chuck something that had belonged to my sister, but it was tainted by Anita wearing it…..

He’s not there. I ring the bell hard, but the communal door remains closed. I ring his phones, but get nothing. Great.  I’m peering like an idiot through the glass door, when a woman bustles down the stairs. Fat, greasy haired, wearing an outsize green cleaning outfit. Leo’s mum.

“Hi!” I grab her breathlessly, and she jumps like she’s never seen me before, “It’s me, Leo’s friend Caz.”

For a moment she looks confused, which is understandable, because we’ve only met a couple of times, then she gives a little laugh, “Of course, Leo’s girlfriend. You alright love?” Her accent is Essex, coloured with a touch of eastern European. Leo says he was born in Slovenia, and his parents moved to the UK when he was six, because the medical care was better. He hardly remembers it he says. His dad walked out when he started school, went back home apparently so it was just him and his mum, struggling on a sink estate in Glasgow.

“Oh I’m not, well his….doesn’t matter. Anyway. Do you know where he is? He said he’d meet me and I can’t get hold of him.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh that boy, always whizzing around somewhere. Busy on his computer, busy out, busy…Tell you what I buzz you up, and you can wait for him. I’m sure he won’t be long.”

“I…great, thanks.”
             

She leans over suddenly and kisses me on both cheeks, “I’m glad Leo has you. He is a very…,” she pauses and a shadow crosses her round face “troubled. He is very troubled. You help him.”

Before I can answer she holds the door open for me, and as I slip through she is gone, vanished amongst the thronging early evening crowds. I have never, naturally enough, been alone in Leo’s flat before and it feels a bit awkward. I try ringing his mobile again and leave an answerphone message along the lines of where the hell are you, and then flick his TV on, wandering to the breakfast bar to get a glass of water.

His post is stacked neatly by the swirly silver fruit bowl where it always is. I stare at the letter on top. The envelope is thin and I can see a symbol embossed on the letter underneath, right at the top, next to the address. It’s a moon and sword. I frown, riveted, wondering where I have seen it before. For a second as I clock the name on the front I think it’s been sent to the wrong address; Alexander Havers. Not Leo Betts. But the address is right.

Chapter Fifteen

Really knowing I should not be doing this, heart thumping, I pick it up, studying the flap, sealed tight. I hold it up to the light. I can see the symbol clearly but can’t read the writing. Damn, what am I doing? Horrified I shove the letter under the rest, which are addressed to Leo Betts and retreat to the sofa, thinking furiously.

For obvious reasons I don’t want to stay in the flat, and drag Leo out into the street when he finally turns up, shocked I was waiting inside, rather than hanging round the entrance. We end up going out to Ratz, having an uneasy drink, while I frantically try to find an opening to ask the hundreds of questions buzzing in my mind. Relaxed now, Leo seems oblivious, geeky as ever, smiling sweetly at my attempt at a joke, warning me off Matt.

“He doesn’t like Anita anyway. He told me!” I am exasperated, “I thought you’d be pleased for me. You know I’ve fancied him for ages.

Leo winces, “I don’t want to see you hurt, and just because he’s come up with some plausible story doesn’t mean he isn’t playing you along.”

‘Plausible’ is such a Leo word. “He isn’t and we’re fine okay. Thanks for watching my back but I can look after myself. In fact, he thinks I should careful of you!”

Clumsy, but I expect a laugh. I am totally unprepared for his reaction.

He leans on the table, stares right at me and I get a flash of emotion so strong I actually blink.

“Caz, I like looking out for you,” perhaps catching the horror in my face he quickly adds, “We’re best friends right? That’s what I’m here for. You don’t need anyone else.”

The usual crowd is buzzing around our table, but there is like this weird intense force field, we’re locked in our conversation, or locked by the conversation we’re not having. The stupid things we’re saying are not masking the unanswered questions.

“Leo, were you out the other night? Tuesday, about 3am?”

I see him withdraw, eyes flickering, and one hand reaches for his computer bag, touching it like a talisman, “Don’t lie to me. I know it was you. I saw you kissing that girl. Why did you tell me you were gay?”

Silence, then, “Hey Caz, Hey Leo! We’re heading down the beach tonight for a barbeque. Do you want to come?” Melissa, bouncing up in baggy jeans and a tight blue corset top, unaware of our private electricity.

“Um, yeah I will. Leo?” I grab my bag, deliberately challenging him to say no.

“Okay.” It’s a quiet acceptance of defeat, and I suddenly feel sorry for him. This boy has been my best friend for six months, and now we’re strangers. So he has a girlfriend. So what? Maybe Alexander was the previous occupant of his flat. I have way too much imagination. I need to get over it. But he still stares like he’s never seen me before. Those glassy eyes a queer colour, green with darker depths.

“We’ll catch you up Melissa. You go on.” I grin at her and jerk my head at Leo. She shrugs, but walks out the door to join a couple of other kids holding beach towels, and nattering into their phones.

“It wasn’t me Caz. It wasn’t me the other night,” he is upset and getting agitated.

“Fine. Look Leo whatever, calm down. Let’s just carry on. If you want to tell me anything you can okay?”

“
SHUT UP
!” He slams a fist down on the plastic table, and I draw back in alarm.

“Everything
alright?” Great, it’s Matt and Ashley, dragging their boards, shirtless, cut off denim shorts streaked with dust from the skate park.

“Yeah, we’re just heading down the beach,” Leo snaps back to normal with frightening ease.

“Caz?” Matt is slouched against the pillar like the archetypal surf bum, but his brown eyes are alert, missing nothing.

“We’re good thanks. I’ll call you later,” I really hope this doesn’t sound curt and dismissive, but I need to sort out the Leo stuff.

He nods as Ashley orders drinks, “Whatever,” But as I turn to follow Leo his hand catches my wrist, “Careful.” A gentle thumb strokes the inside of my wrist and my insides somersault.

Before I can pursue that one Melissa is yelling that if we don’t move our butts we’ll miss our ride.

It’s almost a relief to turn my mind to the LiveWire dare. I get back about eight, after a totally weird evening. Melissa spent a lot of time flirting with Leo, who was back to his, helpless geeky persona, and kept blushing and smiling aimlessly. The sudden flash of emotion might never have been. It’s obvious Melissa is desperate to get him to ask her out, and he is just as obviously not going there. Whenever I tried to talk to him he just rambled on about how long we’d been friends and how great I was. I gave up, made my excuses and got a bus back to Ratz, then walked slowly home, texting Matt.