Part 1

Fame Tag Her Tail

I closed my eyes. It felt like I was really there. I felt the pulse beating sharply in my forehead, big tears trickling down my cheeks, my fingers gripping tightly to the car handle, my voice screaming in my head. I yelled in horror as the car screeched and swivelled out of control. “Mum!!!” Another car smashed into us, sending bits of metal and glass spouting out in every direction. I felt myself being thrown on the dashboard and the car lurching unexpectedly. And then nothing. Everything was pitch black.

When I woke up, everything was blurry. My cheeks were damp with sweat. I rubbed my eyes as prickling needles of pain shot through my whole body. My hands felt very heavy. It felt like as though someone had stuck weights all over my body. I wanted to go back to sleep. And then continue to sleep. I wanted to sleep forever and never wake up.

I nearly dozed off again when a short woman with curly hair swept up in a bun strolled in with a clipboard. She made her way over to my hospital bed, spiky heels clicking on the slippery floor. She smiled down at me with her big green eyes. “Hello, darling. You poor dear. I see you’ve woken up finally. If I’m not correct I recall you’ve been in the coma for about 3 weeks. You were in an extremely, severely dangerous car accident that could’ve instantly killed you. You are one of the survivors, cupcake.”

That’s when I suddenly remembered the car, my mum, my little sister, terrible pain, flying metal, panic… “Are you quite alright, dear? You have a ghostly expression on your face---” I heard a loud, sickening cry. It pierced through the air like a fork scraping on a plate. It was a long, sorrowful cry, wavering on like a nightingale with a sad song to sing. The curly woman bent over quickly. “Stop, stop, its ok, darling! Shhh, I’m so sorry… Oh goodness I didn’t mean to upset you!”

Me? Stop what? Was I really making that unearthly sound? I clamped my mouth shut and started sobbing really hard. I cried until there were no more tears. I couldn’t hear the woman; she was muffled by my weeping. Then I lunged into a deep sleep again. I don’t know what happened after that, or what happened to the curly-haired woman with the clipboard, either.


I felt some one shaking me hard. I heard some one talking, but I didn’t hear what it was. I groaned and tried to roll over. I think it was Friday morning, time for school. As I started to wake up the sounds started to sound clearer. “Please, please, open your eyes…... wake up! Please, just do it! Come on, please..... please!” I noticed the desperation in the voice. It was probably my mum waking me up to tell me to wash the dishes and iron my clothes (I know she can sometimes be such a good actress when she wants me to be the servant). But I didn't think she'd be THAT desperate.

I decided to just try. Whatever. It was time for school anyway. And even if I pretended to stay asleep I couldn't do that forever. I'd miss school and my birthday. No, I do not think I would like to lie in bed that long. My eyelids felt very heavy. I concentrated on only lifting them, opening them just at least a crack. It drained a lot of energy out of me to even just try. I had to basically muster with all the little and weak strength I had to finally manage to squeeze them open. Never before had such a simple and easy task such as opening and eyelid had been so difficult. I guess if I hadn't been in this problem I would've found it ridiculous, unbelievable.

As my vision focused, I saw it wasn't my mum or the dancing bear wallpaper in my room, it was the same curly-haired woman and another man. Their anxious eyes searched me as I slumped back on the bed. Oh, right. I totally forgot. I was in the hospital, getting treated and recovering from what had just happened in my life. That same problem that had torn a big chunk of the happiness I felt in my heart, and had left a big, lonely hole there. A dark hole where I seem to be falling into, arms flailing.


Fresh tears pricked my eyes. “Now, now it's going to be okay. Doctor Martin is right here to see you and make sure you're alright. Don't worry, don't worry sweetie, Kat, we've got it all in control.” Linda, as I later found out the curly woman was called, paused and added, “I'm, um, sorry about the other day... for scaring and upsetting you like that. But you're fine now, yes? Another nurse will come in to take care of you after. And by the way, your dad was just in, but I guess he just missed you.” Oh, so it was one of my parents. Not mum though. Linda turned and was about to leave. “Wait!” I grabbed her arm, “Just a moment, I need to know something. Is, is my little sister and my mum okay?” My voice wobbled. I felt a pang of guilt as I hadn't thought about how they might be feeling. Or what if they might be dead? I violently shook that thought out of my head.

“Ah, your sister is pretty much fine, nothing major. Maybe a few bruises and scrapes and things.” Linda's frown lines deepened. “And your mum is in another ward, just right down the corridor. I'm afraid her injuries are not that simple, a bit more complicated. The doctors are still doing tests and are trying to locate the problem. I'm sure it won't be too bad, um... but yeah, just stay relaxed and it'll work out. Your mum is alive and breathing!”

I'm not fooled. How could I relax? Whenever adults say it's a bit more 'complicated', it doesn't mean it's anything good. Something has happened to my mum. I just know it. I took a deep breath and turned away from them. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted to be normal. Be me. I wish I could reverse the clock, right before we went on the long car trip back home from the singing competition I’d won. That day I had had no idea whatsoever that anything would happen. I had won a singing competition! That was going to be featured in the newspaper! I just wish I had a magical wand, so I could just twinkle some sparkly dust on the situation and 'poof' it would all disappear. I wish I lived in a world where there was no sadness or crying, anger or disappointment. Did any other girl in Australia ever feel like this? I wish nothing bad ever happened. Ever.
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Linda left the room; I probably wouldn't see her again. Doctor Martin smiled down at me. He checked me over and gave me some medicine. He also put on these tabs to monitor my lungs and heart. He said I could go in a few days, and so could my sister Angie.

But my mum had to stay here longer, and we would be allowed to visit her anytime. After that, the days and nights went by. In between those times, some physiotherapists, doctors and nurses came to visit me. Even one reporter for a newspaper came to see and interview me. When I got the strength, I sometimes watched T.V with the other kids, sitting up on our beds and having trays of food on our laps. On my last day, my dad came to see me. He rushed in and gave me a big hug. “Oh, Kat! I was so worried! Thank God your okay; your my brave little girl.” he squeezed me and kissed the top of my head. “Kat, I was really anxious to see you, Angie and your mum. Especially when I heard about it. I was so scared, I wouldn't sleep. It made it worse for me when I saw it on the news!”

“The news? Were we on the news? Oh my gosh wow!” I exclaimed. “I might become famous!” I then noticed the wrinkles in my dad's cheeks and the dark circles on his eyes. His tired grey eyes looked into mine. He gave a small smile. “Maybe you will Kat, we never know. That car accident did get all of you in a fix. And especially since you did win that singing competition a few weeks ago, which was featured in the newspaper. So a small portion of people will know about you.” Dad continued on, “Life may not be the same again for all of us. But I do want to warn you. If you ever do become ultra-famous,” Dad ruffled my hair playfully and continued, “the starlet life on the catwalk and paparazzi is not as glam as you think.” He wasn't kidding. How could all that not be absolutely glamorous? Of course it is. It's practically every girl's dream. Thousands of screaming fans, latest clothes and shoes, lots of money, mansions, hottest on the catwalk, paparazzi, popular movies, TV, glossy magazines, concerts.... my dad must be crazy to think that. I shook my head.

I shakily swung my legs over the side of the bed. I haven't tried walking since the car accident. My legs wobbled and I gripped dad's shirt sleeve. “Whoa, I feel so weird.” I managed a little laugh. I did a few rounds of the hospital room. Even so, I still felt a bit unstable. But then again, I really wanted to see Mum and Angie. “Come on, Dad. Let’s go!”

“Go where, Kat?” he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Obviously he had other ideas. “To see Mum and Angie, of course! I wonder how they're doing.” I struggled hard against the urge to grip onto dad's shirt again. I wanted to prove myself strong enough. “Are you sure Kat? Do you really need to see Mum and Angie?” Dad patted my shoulder. “How about you rest a bit more, you look a bit shaken.” I convinced him I really did want to. I tried an exit to the doorway but ended up on the floor. I gave up and let dad help me. I grinned and dad grinned back as we left the children's ward. Some patients stared at us and some smiled. As we were walking through the corridor I spotted a big notice board. On it were pictures and writing. Mothers with newborn quadruplets, cancer and brain tumour survivors, NDE. Our family would probably go on there.

The nurse at the desk smiled at us as she saw us approach. She opened a door on the right. “Is it the mother, Gina McKenzy, room 113 bed 2, your looking for?” There was a benefit for being in this position, I thought to myself. I stepped into the room. A strong, strange smell hit me. It made me feel like sneezing and coughing at the same time.

I saw a bed drawn around with curtains. All was silent. Dad stopped me when I reached out to pull aside the curtain. “Now, Kat, you have to take it slowly. There's something I have to tell you first,” he spoke softly. “Your mother has amnesia, so sh-she might not remember us.” Bang. The word amnesia hit me like an ice block. He put his hand on my shoulder to steady me. I felt a bruise swelling up in my heart. I couldn't take it nay more. Suddenly I didn't feel good at all. The floor started swimming underneath me and the room dipped sideways. Dad shattered in a million pieces and fuzzed. My head felt like it had grown as big as a mango.

The last thing I felt was numbness as I collapsed to the floor. I had fainted.

When I came to, I was back in my disinfectant-smelling hospital room in the children's ward, lying in my gruesome bed. My head hurt a lot. I didn't feel any better. But what hurt more was the red piece of flesh inside of me, something that used to be called my heart. All it was now was a ragged and stripped particle, dangling by the thin strings of the hope left inside of me. Just one more thing could snip those last strings, and that would be that. I felt so miserable. Life was so unfair. I didn't feel like caring for anything. I just wanted God to take me away; there was no point in carrying on.

My mum had amnesia, she doesn't remember me. She doesn't know me anymore. I just look like a stranger called Kat, with straight blonde hair and a band of freckles across my nose. A daughter she never remembered she had. I was just a reminisce that she didn't bother looking back to. I closed my eyes and prayed silently. Even so I just knew I couldn't let go of the hope.

Without hope it would be nearly impossible to live. Hope is the air that our spirits breathe. Without it our spirits suffocate. Could I go on if I were to know that mum would never get her memory back? No, I do not think I could. But I will live each day, clinging onto hope. I will get my act together. I will believe. I have chosen to see mum. I love her. I love Angie. I love dad. I love the life I have been given, despite all the bad things that have happened.

Things will get better, I'm sure of it. Somehow. Will they? Won't they?

Dad came to see me. I could see he was worried. I gave him a big smile. “Dad, dad, its ok. I'm better now. I'm ready to see mum, honestly. But let’s see Angie too.” We went to another part of the children's ward, to the room where the little injured kids were. Angie was seven. I saw her lying in a big cot.

She smiled her sweet smile when she saw me. I smiled back. Dad held her tight. “Oh my little girl! How are you feeling? Daddy’s here to see you! Are you okay?” I rushed over and gave her a big hug. “Angie, I'm so happy to see you! How are you doing? Did the doctor say you could go too?” She giggled softly when I gave her a tickle.

“Yes, the doctor said I'm gowin home towday. Kitty I miss you too!” It was so great to hear her call me Kitty again in her cute, little girly voice. I sat down beside her and stroked her hair. “Angie, I missed you a lot. It's not fun without your Barbie dolls, is it? We'll both go home today and we can play together forever and you can do my hair, okay?”

Angie nodded and blue her eyes shined. But then her face wilted. “What about mummy, Kitty? Is she coming too? I want mummy!”

I rocked her back and forth. “It's okay, little Angie, mummy is fine. She will come too, but not today. Mummy is going to stay here a little longer, just so she can become extra healthy. She'll feel really well when she comes back though, Angie. Do you want her to feel really good so she can play with us, and make chocolate cookies?” I knew things wouldn't be the same, now that mum had amnesia. But it was still too early for Angie to know. “Oh okay Kitty.” Angie snuggled up to me and closed her eyes. She fell asleep on my shoulder. I gently tucked her in and dad and I left.  

  Two months later, I found myself at Dad's house. Chewing busily on some bacon strips we got from the supermarket. They were pretty dry, and Angie was struggling to finish one. I gave the rest to Budget, my dad's new shepherd dog. The black and white hound gobbled it up straightaway.

I sauntered over to a pile of post. I browsed through the catalogues and magazines. Nothing interesting. But at the bottom of the pile, something caught my eye. I picked up the Trinity Star Weekly newspaper. I looked at the big picture of a girl. The heading, “Survivor of Crash and Winning Singer!” jumped up at me. I looked more carefully at the picture. A beautiful, young girl of about fourteen looked back at me. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Freckles. A bruise on her forehead. I dropped the newspaper as though it was a hot potato. That girl was me. Me. Was I really everywhere? On the news and the front page of the newspaper? Newspapers, I corrected myself. I looked at another newspaper. Same picture. Except the newspaper I first found had two pictures. One of a close up on my face and another of me singing my heart out at the singing competition. I began reading the article.

My new Iphone beeped. Yet another call was coming in. I'd already lost count of the number of calls and offers I'd received today, yet alone the past two months I'd endured. Some calls were just plain weird. They were weird because some random girl would ring up and say something like, “Hi, Kat! Are you alright? Oh do you remember me? It’s me, Kerry? Remember?” I didn’t know any Kerry’s or Chloe’s, as far as I knew. I traced my finger down the page and found my mobile phone number printed there. I had become quite well known. Angie and mum did too, but I guess I was the better choice because Angie was pretty little, and mum had amnesia so she couldn't remember much.