Bitter Blood (BBi)

Chapter 3: Memories

Chapter Three
Memories

Memories.

That's what I'm sucked into the moment she says my name. I remember the day before she disappeared. I remember the day after she disappeared. I remember every little detail from that time four years ago.

-
-

Avery had thrown her arm over my shoulders as we walked through the high school in the first semester of year seven, small and still new to the hectic bustle of everything around us.

"We have every class together, thank god.” she had said. “I'd have to shoot myself if I was in any classes with Alanah."

Avery stuck a finger in her mouth and pretended to gag. I laughed and she grinned at that accomplishment.

"You know I'm standing right here, freak." Alanah spat from behind us, a hint of embarrassment in her self-righteous tone.

My cheeks burned but Avery didn't back down.

"Shut it, Alanah." she casually cast over her shoulder.

We had spent all of primary school with Alanah Flick and she had remained the same rude and judgmental girl she had always been when she moved up to high school. The only thing that changed was her height. Avery and I ignored her most of the time. We both knew and had been told many times that responding to her would only spur on her teasing.

Avery dropped her hand off my shoulder and pointed to a boy walking up the hallway ahead of us.

"See him?"

"Yes, he's walking right in front of us." I replied.

"He's got a crush on Lara." she said and smirked.

"Lara?" I gawked. "As in our Lara? Lara Jayne?"

"Yep," she nodded and said in a sing-song voice. "Lara Jayne and...whatever his name is."

Lara was a girl we hung out with. She was friendly and kind with a sense of humor that bode well with the two of ours. Her father was a dentist and would never allow her to eat anything that may have rotted her teeth. Lollies and junk food were amongst those things. She was never allowed to Trick or Treat with us on Halloween or eat cake at a birthday party. So, just for her, we had made October 31st  National Sleepover At Avery's House day. Avery and I always brought a stash of lollies to share with her.

 "Does she know?" I asked.

 "Nope," Avery replied. "But we should totally tell her.”

I agreed and for the rest of the walk home we remained silent. When we were walking down the street we both lived in, Avery spoke.

"Has your Dad woken up yet?"

She was referring to my fathers drunken daze. We had chosen the term “waking up” for when or if he ever got over his present state and started acting like a responsible father again. That time was still yet to arrive.

"Nope. We haven't spoken all week." I said.

I had told Avery everything about my mum and dad a few months ago. She had already known most of the story about my mum because of the other residents of Westershade who had locked that little incident into a vault they could open up whenever they wanted to share a story with their neighbors. But she was the only other person besides myself who knew about dad.

If someone found out that he wasn't taking care of me and reported it, I could be taken away. I'll admit, sometimes I would think that it wouldn't be so bad. I'd have a new life, a new house, possibly a new family.

But then I got a grip on reality and realized just how horrible it would be. I'd have to leave my home, my school, my friends. I didn't want to do that.

So no one knew but Avery.

As we neared Avery's house I said goodbye and continued walking down the street. She cut through her neighbors garden and waved to me from her door step before going inside.

 That was the last time I ever saw her. The last thing we ever talked about was my useless, drunken father.

I remember with shocking detail the next morning when I awoke to a heavy knock on the front door.

Dad was out cold, the house was a mess and I was praying that it wasn't a nosy neighbor trying to get a glimpse inside our house.

But when I answered the door, I didn't find a nosy neighbor.

I wish I had.

Instead it was two policemen dressed in their usual uniforms washed in that certain color of blue that immediately sparks paranoia in anyone they see. Back then they had towered over me since I was still so short at the age of thirteen. I remember the aftershave scent that clung to the taller man's skin. It was sharp and tangy and impossible to put a single word to.

The younger officer spoke first.

"Is this the Kingsley residence?" he asked in a deep, intimidating voice.

I nodded slowly, my eyes a little wider than normal. He didn't seem to notice.

"Is your parent or guardian home?" he asked.

"No." I said straight up, and then quickly added, "He's at work."

The officer glanced at his partner and it was if they were passing thoughts telepathically. One arched an eyebrow and the other lifted his shoulders in the smallest shrug. I wondered if they knew that dad didn't actually have a job. After a moment, the younger officer turned back to me.

"Are you Parker Kingsley?" I nodded. "I'm deputy Maine and this is officer Reynolds. Are you a friend of Avery Rodhe?"

I repeated my answer to his previous question.

"When was the last time you saw Avery, Ms. Kingsley?" asked Officer Maine as he pulled out a notebook and pen from his pocket.

 "Yesterday afternoon. We walked home from school together." I replied, then heaved in a deep breath and straightened my back, meeting his eyes. "Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"She's missing." said Officer Reynolds. "So you walked home from school. And then what happened?"

I didn't answer right away. I stood frozen in place with one word repeatedly exploding inside my head.

Missing.

There had to be a mistake.

 "Ms. Kingsley?"

I looked up at Officer Maine.

"What happened after you walked home from school?" he repeated.

"I...we..." I stutter. "We walked to her house and then said goodbye. She went inside and I went home. But there must be a mistake, I saw her just yesterday."

Officer Reynolds shook his head. "No mistake. Her parents reported her missing this morning. They haven't seen her since early yesterday."

Officer Maine scribbled something on his notepad, tore it off and handed it to me.

"That's our station's number. If you remember anything else, anything at all, don't hesitate to call."

They left and I went back inside, the paper still sitting in the palm of my hand. I sunk to the floor and put my head in between my knees. I cried, confused and frightened, on the floor of my home. I only stopped when the phone rang.

I peeled myself off the floor and went into the kitchen. The windows were dark and I realized with a shock that I must have been lying on the floor for hours.

"Hello?" I greeted into the phone when I answered it. My voice sounded unfamiliar, broken. I coughed to clear it.

"Hello? Parker? It's Sarah – Avery's Mum."

That made my stomach plummet. What was I going to say? Oh hey there Mrs. Rodhe. Did you know I was the last person to see your daughter? But I have no idea where she is or whether or not she's alive.

That thought brought a strangled cry out of my throat.

"Are you there?" Sarah asked.

I coughed again. "I'm here."

"Parker, I need to know. Is there anything you haven't told the police? Something you thought you shouldn't? You know it wouldn't be bad to tell us. You wouldn't be in any trouble."

Her words brought outrage bubbling up inside me, hot and angry. My best friend was missing and she was accusing me of hiding something that could help find her?

"I've told the police everything." I answered a little sharply.

"Okay. Thank you, Parker."

Then she hung up and for a moment I still held the phone to my ear, listening to the dial tone before lowering it back into the receiver and walking into the lounge room.

I sat on the couch and didn't move for a long time. I was hungry and exhausted, worried and frightened. But one word kept me from doing anything to fix that.

Missing.

-
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In the weeks that followed Avery's disappearance, missing signs and photographs were taped up all over town. Police officers paged through possible people who might have seen her, combed her house for clues, gathered volunteers and searched places she liked to go. They would occasionally return to me with questions and get the exact same answers as they did the first time.

We walked from school to home together.

She went inside her house.

I went back to mine.

I didn't see or hear from her after that.

Like every missing person who wasn't found and left no clues, the case became a faded colour in the background of much brighter ones. A folder in a filing cabinet. A name that would soon be forgotten.

The evidence, if there was any to begin with, would be long gone by now. All suspects had been interviewed and cleared. No one knew where she was.

Avery Rodhe was gone.

Some people said she had run away; just walked out the door and never turned back. She was a teenager, after all. Sometimes that happened.

Then there were those who believed she had been kidnapped. Within the first week they had already accepted the forty-eight hour rule; if you don't find the missing person in that time frame, you probably never will.

But apparently everyone who thought that were wrong. Because here she is, staring at me with wide eyes and a nervous smile.

Avery Rodhe, the girl who would never be found, has returned.