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Find out where it all began with Sky, the first book in the Animal Allies Series.
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Read on for a free chapter of
Book three in the Animal Allies Series
Coming February 2020
Chapter 1
I adjust my laptop and stare at the screen, open to Facebook. The cursor of my mouse hovers over the button Join Group.
No, she’ll never accept me. I return to my new obsession: scrolling through the comments on Stella’s latest post, reading and liking as I go.
Activists Unite is a private group on Facebook run by Stella Morris, a journalist and animal activist with multiple social media platforms. Stella is admired worldwide and followed by millions. She’s constantly travelling, speaking, writing and publishing books. She gets interviewed on CNN, BBC and even Al Jazeera when world news breaks on an animal issue. But unlike some, she’s not all about self-promotion; she regularly shares other people’s accomplishments, supporting and encouraging their advocacy. She’s currently on a world tour, delivering eighty speeches in twenty days in ten different countries. Today she’s speaking in Beijing and has posted a petition against bear bile farming, an industry that cages bears and removes their digestive fluid so it can be used in traditional medicine.
I add a comment: Thanks for that, then delete the last two words. I’m trying to sound more articulate. Thanks for informing me about this, Stella, I write instead, tagging her name as always. Occasionally she pops into the comments and replies to people, but never to me. I’m just one person among a squillion fans.
I read comment after comment, some posted in real time. Many already have tens, even hundreds, of likes from others in the thread.
This is disgusting, ugly, vile, and heartless.
Stella, u r my inspiration.
Stop animal exploitation.
The animals thank you.
The doorbell rings.
‘Coming!’ I call through my bedroom window. I leap off my bed and run to open the front door.
My dog, Bella, rushes to greet Oliver her tail circulating like a ceiling fan. She snorts with happiness and rolls onto her back as he kneels down to find her secret tickle spot.
He gets to his feet and we hug. ‘Missed you,’ I say into the crook of his neck.
He pulls back. ‘We saw each other in the park last night.’
‘But that was yesterday.’ A knot of doubt lies undigested in my stomach as I lead him inside the house. It’s been over a month since Oliver and I got back together, but things still aren’t the same as they were.
‘Is that you, Oliver?’ my aunt Paula calls out. She’s on the couch in her default position: laptop propped up on a floral pillow and a cup of tea within reaching distance. Paula’s seven months pregnant and although the doctor gave her the all clear to end her months of bed rest, she’s still full of anxiety about something going wrong. She looks up from her computer and smiles at Oliver. ‘How are your holidays going so far?’
‘Paula,’ I interject, ‘I told you they start next week.’ She’s so unfocused these days; it’s like she sees me, but doesn’t hear me. But I give her a smile. I know she’s having a hard time with her pregnancy. And after all, she was beyond patient with me when I first arrived here.
When Mum died last year, I moved from Sydney to small-town West Creek to live with Aunt Paula and Uncle Dave. At the time, I had nowhere else to go. I didn’t know my father yet, or his parents, who live in America, and my maternal grandparents had passed away long before. I felt abandoned, alone, orphaned. Paula and Dave made so many sacrifices to give me a new home and tried their hardest to shower me with love. Not that I appreciated it at the time…
‘Want some more tea?’ I ask Paula.
‘I’m all tea-ed out today,’ she replies.
‘Well that’s a first.’
Oliver digs in his backpack and hands Paula a large bottle of supplements. ‘These just came into the shop; Mum says they’re meant to be the best out there. All raw or organic or something.’
Paula props herself up. ‘How thoughtful. I’ll call Diana to say thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate her taking on the baby shower project. I keep telling her I’ll help organise it, but she won’t let me lift a finger! She’s an angel.’ When Oliver and I started going out, Paula and Oliver’s mum, Diana, who runs a health-food store in town, got to know each other and they’ve been close friends ever since. Paula frowns. ‘I wish I could offer you both some freshly baked cookies like the old days.’
‘It’s okay, Paula. Where’s Dave?’ I ask, looking around.
‘Groceries. Left a minute ago.’
‘I’ll make dinner tonight,’ I offer. ‘Should I text him to buy a can of lentils for veggie burgers?’ Paula has gestational diabetes, which means she can have next to no carbs or sugars, so she’ll have to eat her burger without the bun.
‘What do you think, peanut?’ She looks down, rubbing her belly. ‘Lentils? Or too much gas?’ She replies to herself in a super high-pitched voice, like she’s the baby: ‘Yum!’
The word obsessed doesn’t come close to describing Paula with this bub.
Oliver chuckles and I roll my eyes as we head to my room. I text my uncle quickly before closing the bedroom door. We kick off our shoes and plop onto the bed.
‘We’ve gotta get more subscribers.’ Oliver lies on his stomach, holding his phone, our channel, Keep Kind, open on his screen. ‘This number is stressing me out.’
Sundays are our YouTube filming day. We started the channel together because Oliver is applying for work experience at Viola Films, a famous film production company, and when he trawled through the application process he realised they’re looking for not only an impressive body of work but a strong social media presence—having over a thousand subscribers is a given. He says thousands of high-school kids will apply, but if he gets chosen, the benefits roll on. The winning candidate will get to intern on the set of a major production next summer. It will also give him a real chance of getting into the competitive New York film school he wants to go to after we graduate next year.
But while he’s focused on making the best films possible and attracting the most subscribers, I have other things in mind. Inspired by Stella and her work, I want to use our channel to raise awareness about animal cruelty and make a difference. I’m taking the lead on what subjects we cover, consuming reams of articles on different topics. I’m following all the advice I’ve read and trying my best to make it newsworthy, light and interesting, while Oliver does the filming and editing.
We covered a team of poachers-turned-wildlifeprotectors; a real feel-good news piece. I loved watching the videos of elephants roaming. The research process was harder for our first video, when I wanted to write about the live export industry. Hundreds of sheep died from heatstroke, squashed into ships from Australia to the Middle East in the height of summer. Stella’s articles on the history of the ban-campaign helped me enormously, and Oliver was sure that video would be a hit; it’s a huge topical issue. But nope. To say our channel hasn’t attracted much attention is the understatement of the century.
‘It is embarrassing,’ I agree. Sixty-three followers is about low as you can get. Some people who haven’t even posted a single thing have more than that. I lie next to him, laptop in front of me, following the directions to sign Stella’s bear petition. I refresh my feed and share a post from a page called Expose Them.
‘Sky?’ Oliver prompts.
I look up and realise he’s holding his phone up to me. I wriggle closer. ‘That’s, what, sixty-four? Better than last week!’ I try to sound positive, but he nosedives into the covers.
‘I can’t believe it’s so bad. I’ll never get to New York. How did Jaxon get a
thousand in a week? His single isn’t even that good … Why do you share his stuff anyway?’
I met Jaxon when I visited my father for the first time in Alaska a few months ago. Jaxon and my dad are really close, as Jaxon’s own father is mostly absent. When I first arrived, I resented Jaxon’s presence as I wanted time to get to know my father. But despite first impressions, we ended up forming a strong bond. Jaxon was there for me at some of my worst moments, like when I ran off, hitchhiked with a stranger, and found myself frozen and alone in a deserted bus station in the middle of the night. I tried to do the same for Jaxon after his father reappeared from days of drunkenness only to get arrested. Before I left, there was a moment between the two of us, but I stopped it before things went too far, and now we’re just friends. But while I want to stay friends with Jaxon, if it’s interfering with my relationship, I am prepared to cut it off. That’s how much I love Oliver. When I left Alaska, Jaxon’s band was about to be signed with a big label. Now, they’ve just released his single.
‘You haven’t even listened to it,’ I say to Oliver. ‘Anyway, he shares all our stuff; every single video. I asked you if it’s cool for us to stay in touch and you said it was totally fine, remember? But if you want me to unfriend him or something, I can.’
‘Whatever,’ Oliver says into the covers.
‘Be patient.’ I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re competing with millions of channels. When you do a search on animals, have you seen what’s out there?
He doesn’t answer.
‘All the funny pet videos; the cat obsession is insane. And that’s just in the animal category. We’ll get there.’
‘Time’s running out.’ He shrugs off my hand. ‘The application is due in three weeks and it’s going to suck.’
Nothing I say seems to help. ‘You’re a great filmmaker,’ I try again. ‘They’ll see that. We’ll make our channel better than ever.’ I press my lips to his single freckle, my favourite spot on his face.
We lie quietly and I feel the heat from his skin transmit into mine. It’s moments like this when I’m desperate for him to say it again: those three words. I haven’t heard them since I was in Alaska—before the drama with Jaxon.
I force myself to sit up. ‘Okay. Time to make a video. Better than ever, right?’ I put my hand up for a high five.
Oliver remains face down.
‘Camera?’ I prod him.
Oliver sighs and gets to his feet. ‘Okay, I’ll get the camera set up.’ He fetches the equipment from my cupboard and starts to fiddle with the el-cheapo tripod stand.
I go to the bathroom to check my hair, smooth down the fuzz. Maybe I should try to look a little older in the videos. I put on some mascara and gloss. Better.
Before I head back to Oliver, I open Stella’s page again. She’s posted a short video of her talking to a crowd of hundreds at a university.
A red notification pops up telling me someone’s liked my comment. Clicking on her name—Issie Yam—I see she’s a vegan, judging from her pictures and shares. She looks about my age, and she volunteers at an animal rescue and fosters kittens and cats who would otherwise be on death row. I press Add Friend.
Finding Stella meant finding an entire social media universe, and I went down the rabbit hole into the online animal rights movement. I click back to the Activists Unite group again and hover over the sign to join. Should I?
Yes.
My heart beats faster as I hit the button, and a page pops up asking me a series of questions about my background in activism.
‘What’s taking you so long?’ Oliver calls.
I put my phone away and return to my bedroom, taking a seat on the bed.
Oliver perches next to me, siting close so we both fit in the video frame. His thigh presses against mine. The camera’s facing us, bedroom light on and curtains closed to stop the backlight; a towel’s squished under my door to reduce unexpected noise. I’m wearing a new T-shirt featuring an elephant and the words Born to be Free, along with my usual cut-off shorts. Oliver’s in a grey singlet and his usual whale-tail necklace. His hair’s grown longer and is flipped to one side, surfy style.
He nods. We count silently to three, smiling into the camera, and then I start.
‘News from the animal world! My name’s Sky and—’
‘I’m Oliver.’
‘This week we’ve discovered—what have we discovered, Oliver?’
We’re going for the ping-pong dialogue effect.
‘Wait, hold on. You’re in the shadow.’ Oliver repositions the bedside lamp. Meanwhile, Bella scratches the shag rug before curling up on it. We start again, from the beginning.
‘What have we discovered, Oliver?’
‘Well, Sky—’ he looks at me; his expression is so adorable, ‘we’ve found out …’ I bite my lip, trying not to smile. Oh my god, I love him; I just can’t say it. Not until he does. ‘… We’ve found out all about crustaceans. Hold on.’ He jumps up and stops the camera. ‘Let’s do that take again.’
He re-sets the camera and I kiss him quickly. ‘Ready?’
‘Actually, I’m dying of thirst,’ he says. ‘Can I grab some juice from the fridge?’
‘Sure.’
While he’s gone, I check my phone again. My best friend Lucy’s sent me her latest sketch asking what I think, and Jaxon’s band has just posted the official music video to accompany their first single. It’s all happened so quickly. When I last saw him at Anchorage airport, I was about to fly back to Australia and he was about to go to LA to meet the record label. They signed his band, and now the label’s PR machine is helping build their brand. That means blitzing all social media platforms with their new single, money for promotion, and daily updates from Jaxon and his friends in the band on their latest performances and behind-the-scenes pictures. It’s amazing, and after the struggles he’s faced with his father I feel proud of him.
Oliver comes back with juice and gets the camera rolling again. I continue with the words I’ve now memorised, talking about how decapods—the group of crustaceans that include lobsters and crabs—are not considered animals and have zero protection from anti-cruelty laws. We talk about the new evidence that they feel pain, and the growing opinion that they should not be boiled alive. ‘We have even discovered a crayfish who gave up his own leg to save himself from a spot,’ I say.
Oliver bumps his knee against mine and stifles a laugh.
‘A pot!’ I correct myself, feeling my face warm.
The video ends with our usual, ‘Keep kind and remember to like and subscribe!’
We sit for a moment with frozen smiles to give extra room for the cut, then relax.
‘Should we do another take?’ I ask, not getting up.
‘That was good,’ Oliver says as he walks to the camera.
‘But I stumbled a bit on the—’
‘I’ll fix it, you were great.’ He takes the camera off the tripod and starts packing away. Oliver edits the videos, playing around with music, animation and other complicated stuff. Professional-looking videos should attract more subscribers, increasing Oliver’s chances of being chosen for Viola Films.
‘Maybe we’ll attract lobster fans,’ I say with a smile. I want him to relax a little about the subscribers. We chose this subject because it’s unusual and quirky, trying a different tack to previous videos.
‘You mean the millions of crustacean lovers desperately waiting for a YouTube video just like this.’ Oliver gently pokes me in the ribs and I’m relieved to see his humour back.
‘Wait and see. There will be a thousand and one by the end of the day.’ I poke him back, a little harder. ‘We’ll be stars.’
He wrestles me onto the bed, tickling the sensitive spot under my ribs, making me squeal with laughter. I press my lips against his, and our bodies wrap around each other, every available surface touching. Another rush of relief hits me; he has forgiven me, and he will tell me he loves me again soon—he has to—and then I can say it back.
> His fingers are wrapped in my hair and when he nibbles at my ear, I giggle. The noises rouse Bella, who barks with excitement before jumping onto the bed and licking my face. If that didn’t spoil the mood, the sound of my uncle Dave’s car does; it fills the room, the crunching gravel announcing his arrival in the driveway.
I get up to go help him with the shopping. As I put the grocery bags in the kitchen and start to unpack, my mind wanders. Did I answer the Facebook questions okay? Will Stella and Activists Unite accept me? I quickly check my notifications. Nothing.
For some reason, belonging to this group suddenly feels like everything.
First published in 2019 by Pantera Press Pty Limited
www.PanteraPress.com
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Text copyright © Ondine Sherman, 2019
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