Chapter
2
Secrets
Revealed
The
jacket I’d found in my search of the attic had been hung up in my wardrobe. On
my first day at Western Districts High School, the Monday after the move, I wore
it over my jeans and South Sydney Rabbitohs football shirt. I could no longer
watch the games on TV, but I could keep track of the games via the Internet.
When
I told people where I had moved in, I got more than a few strange looks.
“What’s the deal?” I asked Cassie, one of my new friends. “Why are people
surprised? It’s only a house. Sure, some kid died in the bathroom, but it’s no
reason to be scared.”
“They
aren’t scared, Kellie,” Cassie explained. “They’re amazed. Amazed that anyone
would want to move in there. A few kids spent a night there a year ago on a
dare, and they reported screams of terror in the middle of the night. It’s been
completely deserted for the past three years. That house scares the hell out of
most people. They all think it’s haunted.”
I
shot Cassie a strange look. “Cassie, I’m not freaked out by it. It gives the
house a bit of character. Mum might be a bit annoyed that she can’t get the
stains out of the tiles on the bathroom floor, but it’s a nice house.”
Cassie
pointed at my jacket. “Kellie, you’re wearing the kid’s jacket. We all know
what it looks like. Everyone here knows exactly what happened. I was only
eleven at the time, but you know what? I remember. I remember the news
reports. I remember my sister wouldn’t stop crying for days. She still has a
corner in her room devoted to Hanson the way they were back then.”
I
tilted my head to the side. “They moved to California, right?”
Cassie
nodded. “I have their last known address, if you want it.”
“Sure.”
Cassie
scribbled an address down on a page in my notebook. “It’s still a mystery, what
really happened. You gonna try and solve it? Not many of us are game enough to
do it.”
I
shrugged. “Maybe.”
- x -
I
resolved to solve the mystery of what had happened before the summer ended, and
I began with the six boxes I’d brought down from the attic. It was all very
puzzling, for the only clues I had were Taylor’s journal, the letter that had
been put inside it, and the suicide note.
That
evening I wrote the following entry in my journal.
I swear that I will find out exactly what happened to Taylor.
Why his family ignored him. Why he really killed himself. That song he wrote in
his journal reflects how he probably felt all those years ago. I can’t imagine
being ignored – he must have been so lonely.
I
put my pen down and looked around the room I had claimed as my own. Something
told me that, all those years ago, this had been Taylor’s own bedroom. I could
imagine him spending many hours alone in his room, listening to music, writing
songs…I shook my head to clear away the thought, then I finished my entry with
a promise.
Taylor, I promise you that I’ll find out what happened. I don’t
care what it takes. But I promise you I’ll solve this mystery before the summer
ends. You can be sure of it.
I
closed my journal and buried it under a pile of clothes in my dresser drawer.
Then I pulled my notebook towards me and looked at the address. “I have to tell
someone,” I muttered. After thinking about what I wanted to do, I opened my
book to a new page, uncapped my blue pen and started to write.
Two
hours later, I had finished. I read through the finished letter.
To whom it may concern,
My name is Kellie Lynch. I moved into a vacant house with my family last week.
I went looking through the attic, to see if the previous occupants had left
anything behind, and I found six boxes that had been nailed shut. I discovered
that everything in those boxes belonged to a nineteen-year-old boy, who ended
his life on July 4, 2002. Thanks to his journal, I uncovered the mystery of a
life cut tragically short by the ignorance of his own family. And I have now
taken it upon myself to solve that mystery. I am hoping you can help me. I have
enclosed a song the boy wrote and a note I found inside his journal. Please
email me as soon as possible if you have any information. My address is
shooting_star_kellie_91@austnet.com.au.
Sincerely,
Kellie Lynch.
- x -
An
email found its way into my inbox two days later. Thinking it was an email from
my friend Elissa, I opened it. Instead I found a reply to the letter I’d sent.
Dear Kellie,
I write on behalf of my parents, who are currently out of the
country. My family moved out of the house you now live in close to three years
ago, because my older brother had killed himself in the bathroom. We left
everything that he had owned in the attic. We took nothing that he had owned.
My brother’s name was Taylor.
Kellie, I loved my brother. I truly did. It’s just that he
suffered from depression, and no-one would go near him. We all tried to talk to
him, but he just ignored us. Just before his suicide, he actually managed to
shake it. And I talked to him. He was ecstatic that Ireland had won the World
Cup. But about three or four days later, he decided to stay home while the rest
of us went to a family gathering. I figure that it was during that time that he
locked himself in the bathroom and shot himself in the head. I was the one who
found him. I haven’t been able to forget it. He was barely alive, and he told
me he was sorry for everything just before he died. I kept the note he left on
the desk in my bedroom. It reads:
I’m so sorry I have to do this. I really am. But I can’t just
live my life and be ignored by our parents and everyone else. Please don’t
forget me, Avie. Don’t forget your brother. I love you so much. Thank
you for talking to me when no-one else would. Don’t forget that I love you.
Love Taylor.
I would be more than willing to help you find out what really happened.
I don’t know myself, and for the past three years I have asked myself why he
ended his life. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to email me and ask any
questions you have. I’ll answer them as best I can. Thank you so much for your
letter. It helps to finally get everything out in the open. Don’t forget –
email me if you have any questions.
Avery Hanson.
I
took note of the address – starshine_1991@excalibur.net – and typed out a quick
reply to Avery’s email.
Avery,
I received your email today. Just after I opened all the boxes I
found in the attic, my brother told me the story of what happened. And he was
pretty open about it. He told me what had been said in the news reports. I was
eleven, so I can’t really remember what happened. The stuff that Callum (my
brother) and I found has sparked my curiosity, so I was wondering if you would
be able to tell me about your brother. Maybe we can help each other.
Kellie.
- x -
Over
the next few weeks, Avery & I built up a friendship based on what had happened
all those years ago. And, along the way, we learned a little about each other.
I
learned that Avery was 14, the same age as myself. She lived in Anaheim,
California, with her parents and her brothers and sisters – 24 year old Isaac,
19 year old Zac, 17 year old Jessica, 11 year old Mackenzie and seven year old
Zoë. She was in her first year of high school. What I told Avery about myself
was simple – I was 14 and my brother, Callum, was 16. I was half-Irish, and I
had been born in Sydney, Australia. We exchanged phone numbers, with the
promise of calling if we found out something of interest.
Around
the end of May, I was at home by myself when the phone rang. It was Avery.
“Kellie?
Is that you? It’s Avery.”
“Hi,
Avery. What’s up?”
“Remember
how we arranged for me to come over in June sometime?”
I
did remember. It had been my idea to start off with – I knew my way around by
now, but it was Avery who knew almost every corner of the city. She had offered
to show me around.
“Yeah,
of course I do. You’re still coming, right?”
“Yeah,
it’s all set.” She paused. “Kellie, I’m ready to tell my story. When I get to
your place, I’ll tell you what I remember. But you’ll need to prepare yourself.
It’s a bit of a shock. And when I told you we took nothing my brother had
owned, I lied.”
“What’d
you take with you?”
Avery
sighed. “I took the note he left me, his music folder, a couple of his
necklaces and a photograph of the two of us.”
“And
the rest…”
“…were
nailed into six wooden boxes. I wanted to take his leather jacket, too, but I
knew I’d be found out. So I left it behind.”
“So
when are you coming?”
“June
15. I’ll be off school by then.”
We
talked for a bit longer, then we ended the conversation.
Avery’s
trust in me was such that she had agreed to tell me what had happened. Finding
out that the boy who had killed himself was her brother was a shock in itself,
but I was ready to hear Avery’s story.
