Roadkill (LiveWire) (2 page)

Rose always stamps over my dreams, beautiful, bold and strong, in a way I will never be. Her hair was black, legacy from our Irish dad, and her eyes aquamarine blue. She was so vivid and alive I can’t believe she’s dead. I saw my sister in a coffin and I remembered when I was a kid and used to crawl onto her bed in early morning. Rose would pretend to be asleep and I would try and prise her eyelids apart, until she laughed, and got up to play with me. My big sister.

The Vultures would have had a right laugh if I climbed into her coffin and started trying to wake her up. Instead I did what I did at Dad’s funeral, read the other gravestones, counting the letters, dividing them, subtracting, anything to keep the screams from escaping. I’m not good at maths so it was a successful diversion. I didn’t cry.

After a fitful sleep I wake exhausted as usual. My porcelain pale face peers anxiously into the funky metal mirror above my dressing table. The mirror was a present from Rose, shaped like a starburst, and usually it makes me smile. Sod the makeup mask. Today I am going to be me, and I tap out a text to Leo as I eat toast.

“I’m off now love. Ring me if you need anything,” Mum pecks me on the cheek, and heads out to the taxi, moving as usual lightly, confidently. She usually looks like this fragile, delicate doll person, but since Rose, she seems somehow even smaller, crushed by her grief. I try not to imagine how bad it must be to lose your husband and a kid. In fact, I force myself not to think about this on a regular basis. I’m getting pretty good at avoiding stuff like that.

Alone I tour the house, picking things up, fiddling with ornaments, until it’s time to meet Leo. By the time I get to the park I am sick of drifting around like some pathetic ghost.

Chapter Two

“Hi Hon. What are we doing today?” Leo stretches his skinny frame on the wooden bench. It’s a memorial bench and the bronze coloured plaque on the back
reads
;

‘In loving memory of Tom Cleaver 1914 – 2012’

He was ninety-eight. Rose was nineteen. I consider this for second then something explodes in my brain, a rush of anger and emotion that clears the mist that has fogged my thoughts; that pathetic feeling of being just so tired I could sleep forever. For the first time in three months I am sparkling with energy and I know what I have to do. Already Rose is closer, and I have to stop myself from calling out her name.

A random ray of sun glitters across the sky, picking out Leo’s gentle face, highlighting his blonde hair. His forehead wrinkles as he frowns, and I realise I haven’t answered his question.

“Budge up,” I squeeze onto the bench, next to Leo’s computer bag. He never travels anywhere without his precious laptop.

“Well? You look different,” he inspects me, glasses glinting in the morning sunlight, “a bit better.”

“We’re going to find the driver who killed Rose. I’m going to find out what happened.” I tell him.

His mouth twists, eyes suddenly darker, opaque behind those ugly glasses. A mirror flash of emotion so quick I know I’ve made a mistake. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for, but I guess he still thinks I should be ‘moving on’. Whatever.

“Yeah. I need to know how she died, and why she died. Come on. You gonna help me or what?”

For a second I think he is going to refuse, but as I reach out and yank his hand, pulling us both off the bench, he smiles, and we link arms and head out the park. Leo is silent on the walk back to my house, but I’m buzzing with purpose, feeling alive for the first time since that night.

“It seems kind of weird we won’t ever be at college together again, doesn’t it? You know, just hanging out.” Leo sounds wistful, and I smile.

“We must have walked round the playing fields a hundred times when we were…”

“Supposed to be studying!” Leo finishes for me, laughing.

“It’s alright for you. I had to catch up in the evenings. Wish I had your brains!”

Of course it’s the same for everyone leaving sixth form, one minute you’re caught up in rules and timetables, endless study, then bang, you’re thrown out, ready to hit the world.

We don’t always agree and a lot of the time it seems like it’s me bossing Leo around, but he was the only person outside the family I could tell about Dad. Of course it happened way before we met, but he totally understood. His dad left when he was young, so for him, it’s like he never had one. At least mine left me some memories, I’m just not quite ready to…um….remember.

I smile at his worried expression, “I’m okay you know.”

Leo squeezes my arm, wisely saying nothing, and we saunter into the Estate.

*

“Are you sure you want to do this?” my best friend is doubtful again, as Rose laughs down at us from the picture covered walls. Dozens and dozens of crazy photos with friends, with me, and my favourite one of all. It was when she won a modelling competition for some new sportswear company, and the shoot was mocked up like a snow covered mountain.

Rose is leaping straight out over the bright, white slope, her hair glittering like ravens’ feathers in the harsh light, whole body alive with that vibrant energy that was hers alone. Quickly I reach for a garbage sack and move towards the wardrobe.

“Stop nagging Leo, mum said it was fine. She thinks it’s a good idea I do it.”

“She doesn’t know you’re actually doing it to find out what happened,” he puts his laptop gently on the neatly made bed, and snaps a kit-kat, offering me half with his usual good manners. I’ve never seen Leo mad, stroppy, he’s like this angel kid. Which makes me…the horned version I guess.

I pause, sifting through yet more photos, “I know what happened Leo. Somebody killed my sister. I am going to find out who.”

“Then what?”

“Go to the police. I dunno, kill him maybe!”

Leo rolls his eyes, “Maybe it’s a her?” he suggests. “Seriously though, the police went over everything. If they can’t find the driver, I’m guessing we won’t.”

“Pessimist. The police thought she killed herself,” I snort in disgust, “As if! Look I found her diary.” I sink down next to him, focusing all my emotions on this new task; a quest for justice I tell myself is exactly what I need to take my mind off the fact that, well, Rose is dead.

It feels kind of weird looking at my sister’s diary, like I really should not be prying into her life. Eventually when I get the courage to open it the contents are disappointing. This is not a pour
-
your
-heart-
out, lock with a secret
-
heart shaped
-
key diary, but more like an adult planner, with notes for coursework due, parties, sports events.

Leo is breathing down my neck, I can smell his hair gel, feel his hand reaching over mine to turn the page. There is no tension, he could have been my old teddy bear, and we are both totally engrossed in the last entries. Her writing was big, spiky, and punctuated with exclamation marks.

“What’s LV?”

“Or who? New boyfriend…..” Leo muses.

I snort, “No chance, you know what Rose is like. Um… was like.” A stab of pain, which I ignore.

“True, the world would have known if she split with Ashley. Probably would have been published in Heat magazine.” Leo giggles like a girl and in spite of myself I smile.

“Do you remember when Carl Jackson asked her out?”

He grins, “And she said, “Sorry mate, I really don’t fancy you.” And just carried on telling us that crazy story about pigs.”

“Pigs? Jeez Leo, how do you remember all that stuff? I wish I had a photographic memory and all that. No wonder you got great exam results.”

LV was scribbled a couple of times throughout March and April, but there is nothing to tell who or what it was. A cursory search of the wardrobe, chest of drawers, and even under the bed yields nothing but the usual girly mess of clothes, t
oiletries, stray tampax, shoes…
Apparently bored with the lack of action Leo asks permission and flicks on her computer. Earlier doubts seemingly gone, he is full of energy and buzz. I look up, pushing hair out of my eyes.

“Waste of time. The police went through everything,” for a second I feel uneasy, “So did Garry.”

“Well I expect your mum asked him to, he’s an IT bloke isn’t he? And I know he bugs you but he is her boyfriend. Although if you ask me he was always down on Rose. You know all that stuff about she should be studying not breaking her neck out on mountains, or wasting her time modelling.” Leo has captured the poor man’s Australian accent, and his gruff voice, to perfection.

I almost smile, tell Leo he should be an actor, and put it out of my mind. But then I see Garry again, carefully tapping at the keyboard. It was after the police brought her stuff back so I guess it might have been just curiosity……or like Leo says mum asked him to have a look.

“Caz?” Leo flicks my arm, “Can you hear me? Come back! Jeez I wish you wouldn’t do that drifting off thing. It’s like talking to a ghost or something. Listen, don’t worry. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it okay?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Now there must be something, but all you’ve got is a load of dust and cheap make-up. What are you looking for anyway?” Leo pulls a packet of dolly mixtures from his baggy beige pockets and carefully selects a pink sugar-crusted one. If you listed all the things Leo could have been bullied for at college it
would have been pages long
, and yet he slips through life with minimal hassle, smiling his gentle dreamy smile. It was like nobody noticed him. In fact a couple of times I had to check it wasn’t just me and my imaginary friend chilling out in the canteen.

“I don’t know! But for a start why she was on the bloody road in the first place. I mean, we all use the bridge.”

Our sprawling estate, Whitmoor, was helpfully built on loads of farmland, separated by the road from the nearest town; Broadridge Heath with all its amenities, schools, sports centre. Clever old developers, I wonder how they swung that one. Come and live in the middle of the pretty countryside, oh we forgot to mention your only way out is across a motorway overpass. No wonder the estate is crap, full of bored teenagers and stressed out single mums.

The computer blinks crossly into life, dust dancing over its screen as sun floods through the window. The room already smells musty, disused.

“Perhaps she was hitching a lift, or getting dropped off.” Leo suggests, flicking through emails, “Hey this is interesting.”

“No, if we get a lift they use the slip road and drop us at the top. Nobody would stop on a motorway. You know that!” But I am remembering that there is a lay-by somewhere down near the bridge, possibly even within a hundred yards of the place where she was found…..I’ve seen lorries parked overnight down there.

Filing this thought away for future reference, I hitch myself up on the edge of the desk, legs dangling, peering at the screen.

‘Looking forward to it babe, I dare you to go for the big one! Don’t forget to message me on LV. ’

“Who’s Kelly Johnson?”

“How would I know? She had so many friends, I think she lost count,” I detect a note of bitterness in my voice and hastily swallow, “Seriously, could be anyone she met snowboarding, on the athletics team, street dance….We’re wasting our time. You were right. The police have already been over everything.”

Energy fading I feel that wave of uselessness, apathy returning, and wonder if I could just spend the rest of my life in bed. It seemed like such a good idea this morning, but the sheer size of the task I have set myself now crushes me. I feel like a beetle under a boulder.

“Shut it Caz, you need a sugar hit!” he scrunches the bag of sweets under my nose.

“I hate dolly mixtures,” I tell him sulkily, scratching at my nail polish. Wish I hadn’t been so thorough when I got ready for the party last night. The dark red is always a bitch to get off. And it clashes with my red hair.

“Eat it and pay attention.”

Stuffing a handful in my mouth I look where he’s pointing. Leo’s nails are better manicured that mine.

“Oh my god. Its LV.” Under the email is a little icon, and an advertising banner. The L and V are entwined in silver and black.

“Click on it!” Behind the LV is an arty shadowy sword and moon, and the icon next to Kelly Johnson’s name was a purple rose with a six in the middle. Weird.

Leo is amused, “What do you mean click on it?”

I slap his shoulder, “You know what I mean. Like on those sites that pop up when you’re on the internet. You click and it takes you to a site.”

“Why do you think it’s a site?”

Why is he being so deliberately stupid? I lean over and grab the mouse.

“Wow, it’s a forum! Look at all this stuff….” I start to get excited as adrenalin hits my bloodstream; or maybe it’s excess sugary sweets.

“LiveWire.
Extr
eme sports for extreme people.
Can you handle it?” Leo reads the bold slogan.