The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl (10 page)

Daniel is leaning casually against the wall of old road signs as a guy in a suit natters in his ear. A bevy of girls hover in his vicinity. Debra DeLuca is gazing at him all starry-eyed: the same Deb DeLuca who once refused to sit next to Daniel in music class cos she said he took up too much space on the recorder bench.

I snort. ‘Desperate much? You’d think people would have more important things to be distracted by. Like, you know – the end of the world and all that?’

Caroline sips at her beer. ‘Maybe they’re thinking we’d better pair up now, in case the future turns out to be some nightmare where we, like, have to wear matching bonnets and share husbands.’ She nudges Tia. ‘Fancy being a sister-wife?’

Tia grimaces. ‘Gross. Anyway, what’s wrong with not wanting Daniel to think we’re small-town? Have you seen what they’re saying about us on the news?

‘Yeah,’ I say with a sigh. ‘Pity they keep interviewing the Alberts. We’re not
all
toothless doofuses who can’t spell
apocalypse
.’

I sweep my gaze over the Junction, trying to see it through outside eyes. The bow-legged table where the six of us eat dinner every Thai Thursday, the pissy-looking stuffed ducks mounted on the walls. The handful of lost-looking locals between the strangers, scowling or gaping at our visitors. I’m not embarrassed. Though, I am kinda wishing Mr Grey wore something other than his beer-gut-hugging Led Zeppelin T-shirt and eighties-awful acid-wash jeans.

Pete is squished in his DJ booth, his eyes scanning the crowds. I can’t help but notice that Tia’s face lights up when Pete catches her eye. He waves her over, and she disappears with barely a backward glance.

Eddie is huddled beside Pete. Poor Ed’s eyes are kinda terrified as they roam over the unfamiliar girls jammed into the pub. I give him a wave, and he gives me a wave back before grabbing Tia and placing her bodily in front of him.

Caroline sighs as her gaze follows Tia. ‘Well. Suppose that’s the last we’ll see of her.’ She drains her beer. ‘And on that note, I need another drink.’

Caroline pushes towards the bar, squishing in beside a stool where Grady is perched. He’s wearing one of the two good shirts he owns, a chequered blue-and-orange thing that stretches across his broad shoulders. A girl in a trilby is sitting on his other side. She keeps sneaking glances at him, but Grady is deep in conversations with Mr Grey and doesn’t seem to be paying attention. He’d get pissy with me for saying it, but in his good jeans and boots, Grady looks every inch the country boy. Even though I’m staring at his back, I can guess the moment trilby-girl catches his cute little-boy smile, cos she shuffles her stool closer and gives his hand a nudge. I’m just about to bound over when a Hugo-Boss-scented arm envelops me in a side hug.

‘Alba!’ Daniel says. ‘Thank God you’re here. My manager was just going through the plan for the next few days. Who knew it was possible to sleep with your eyes open?’ His eyes glide over me, and he whistles. ‘Girl, you look incredible. What the hell happened to the kid who used to sneak Smarties into PE?’

‘Same goes for you, Daniel.’ I give him a once-over, his black T-shirt and jeans managing to be both casual and super-classy. ‘You know you’re living every little kid’s fantasy? Only thing that’d make you more of a Cinderella cliché is if you tell me you’ve been training at wizard school for the past eight years.’

His eyes narrow mischievously. ‘Not sure if I should be offended or blushy, Alba.’

We stare at each other for a weird beat before I grab his hand and tug him through the crowds to a table near the Christmas tree. When we were little, Daniel had this way of bouncing into a room and instantly owning it. Now, as we squish into the small table, he’s looking at me like he’s not sure what to say, and I feel suddenly, strangely shy. I focus on his blue eyes, the only part of his face that hasn’t been touched by the superhero morphage.

‘So … you’re famous,’ I say with a nervous laugh.

Daniel smiles. ‘Don’t get weird on me.
Gum Trees
isn’t exactly the dream. It’s one step above doing ads for haemorrhoid cream.’

‘Oh, but hey – you get to snog Aimee Smith? That’s gotta be a big job perk?’

He snorts. ‘Please. She’s got the personality of wet laundry, and besides, she hates my guts. You know, she purposely eats tuna sandwiches before we have to do our kissing scenes? Every single time. It’s like pashing the fish that John West rejected.’

I fall into a bout of snort-giggles. ‘Aw, but I thought she’d be just your type? The fifth runner-up in
Next Top Model
, and the guy voted “number thirteen sexiest TV star you’ve never heard of” in that uni student web poll? It’s like Romeo and Juliet. But, you know, with more fake tan.’

Daniel’s eyes widen. ‘Jesus. I see I’m gonna have to work hard to prove I’m not the walking himbo you seem to think I am, Alba.’ The Christmas lights bounce across his cheekbones. He’s smiling, but his eyes give him away. I remember that look – that same one he used to get whenever his mum gently suggested he go on a diet. It’s bluster, covering up a smidgen of hurt.

I shuffle my chair closer. ‘I’d never in a bazillion years call you a himbo, Daniel Gordon. Please. You are the person who gave me my first
Spawn
comic, remember? You are the person who tried for eight months to break the Guinness record for the world’s tallest mohawk – not sure if that counts as genius, but still.’

Daniel laughs. ‘A Japanese guy won that this year. It was over a metre high. Very cool.’

Pete’s music changes to some thuddy nineties REM thing, and a cheer erupts around the pub. The leapy crowds on the tiny dance floor double in a heartbeat.

Daniel drums his fingers on the table. ‘So you’re still drawing? I saw some of your stuff hanging in the grocery store. You have mad skills, Alba. Your friends at the store couldn’t stop gushing.’

‘Well, thanks. I’ve branched out a bit from my Wonder Woman obsession, but yeah. Still working on it.’

He looks back at me. ‘And you and Grady are still tight? That’s great.’

I glance at the bar but Grady and trilby-girl are nowhere to be seen. ‘Course we are. You sound surprised?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, not really, but I suppose I was just assuming –’

‘Gah, okay, I can guess what you were assuming. And no. No no no. That’s just … not the thing with us.’ I feel my face flush, and probably a good slab of my neck as well. ‘Everyone knows that. No-one even mentions it. Not since we were thirteen and our friends double-dared us to go on a Valentine’s date. D’you know what happened? Grady was so panicked he fell out of Merindale bus and broke his collarbone, and I drank two blue-heaven milkshakes at the hospital and yakked in Cleo’s car on the way home. It was weird and stupid and – no good can come from this conversation!’

He bursts out laughing. ‘No need to shout, Alba. Okay, fine – new subject.’ He hangs an elbow over the back of his chair. ‘So what’s your take on this? I mean, what sort of gods wait for us to finish school and
then
pull a Night of Eternal Darkness? You bummed the last city on Earth didn’t turn out to be Berlin or Vegas or someplace cool?’

I take a deep breath, my still-flaming face warring with my tingly hands. ‘Well, this crazy is annoying, for sure. But I was thinking maybe I’d stay put anyway, for a bit. I love working at the bakery so it’ll be cool to do that –’

Daniel baulks. ‘Really? You’re planning on staying
here
?’

I glare at him. ‘Man, don’t you start! I know you skipped out and never looked back, but not all of us think this place is a giant dump –’ ‘No, that’s not what I was going to say. I realised I probably sounded like a bit of an arse this morning, but I didn’t mean I wasn’t looking forward to coming back. I’d forgotten how much I missed the Valley.’

‘You did?’

‘Sure. I missed heaps of things.’ He shuffles closer and clears his throat. ‘Alba, I never got to tell you … I was really sorry to hear about your dad. But I was ten, and wasn’t big on emailing … and I’m a bit shit at that stuff. I didn’t know what to say.’

In the DJ booth, Pete is twirling haphazardly while Tia ducks around his arms and the CD cases they periodically send flying over the dance floor. Caroline is in front of them, beer glass in hand as she sways to the music. For a moment I think I see Tia and Caroline’s eyes locked in my direction, though when I blink again they’re focusing on nothing but the music.

‘It’s okay, Daniel,’ I murmur. ‘It was sucky for ages and then … I guess it sucked a bit less. What can I say? Life went on. Though I really wished you’d kept in touch.’ I catch his eyes, only to find that he is staring at me pensively. ‘I really missed you.’

‘Hey. I missed you too,’ he says quietly.

My eyes roam across the pub again. Involuntarily, they seek out Grady’s curls, but there are way too many people here and I can’t find him anywhere. I dunno why, but I feel strangely exposed.

I thump my hands on the table. ‘Ugh. This is getting maudlin. Quick – tell me something else about the wacky life of a celebrity. Do you have your own mini pig? I keep reading on the internet that they’re popular among your people?’

Daniel shakes his head. ‘Jesus, do you not remember Lucy Davidson’s birthday party? A certain Merindale petting zoo, and a certain crotch-biting incident? I can’t even watch
Babe
without breaking out in a sweat.’

I laugh, and he laughs back, and just like that, I’m filled with that cosmic, universal rightness again. His boomy laugh is
exactly
the same. I relax into my wonky chair, surrounded by a cosy blanket of all my stories.

Daniel glances at the DJ booth. He smooths back his hair with both hands, but the shiny strands stubbornly fall back into his eyes. When he looks at me again, there’s something odd about his demeanour. Something sort of … calculating. Last time that look was aimed at me, little Daniel was trying to badger me into sneaking on the bus, fuelled by rumours of the opening of a Merindale Wendys.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘Well I was just wondering … why does everyone here still call you Alba?’

‘I … dunno. No-one calls me Sarah. Well, Grady when he’s pissy, but –’

‘But a nickname’s only cute when you’re a kid.’ He swings back on the rear legs of his chair. ‘And,
Sarah
, you haven’t been a little girl in a really long time.’

I narrow my eyes. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He considers me for a moment. ‘Well for starters, you wear a lot of make-up, don’t you? I mean, someone who dresses like you obviously doesn’t want people to think of them as a kid. Right?’

I draw myself up to my full height. ‘Daniel, this may surprise you, but I don’t care what people think. I like how I dress. I like my name. Is that okay with you?’

The music changes to some croony Johnny Cash song. Daniel’s eyes widen. He leans down so his lips are beside my ear. ‘All I meant was, I’m surprised you think you belong here. You aren’t a small-town girl at heart. I knew that about you when we were six, and I wasn’t the most perceptive kid in the world. I always thought you were awesome, and cool, but I’m finding you really … fascinating now. Is that okay?’

Maybe I am a tad dense, but it takes me a full five seconds to figure out that Daniel Gordon – who once ate a tub of neapolitan ice-cream on a Grady-inspired dare and then yakked in my sock drawer, and who used to have sleepovers at my house in
Toy Story
jammies – is actually attempting to
flirt
with me.

I blink away the mental flash of a golden six-pack. I shove my chair backwards and punch him in the arm. ‘Daniel, was that a
line
?’ I say with a laugh. I gesture to the contingent of girls who are still staring at his back. ‘You already have a fan club. Doesn’t Indigo have a thing for blondes?’

He grins. ‘Yeah. But I’ve always preferred brunettes.’

I roll my eyes, but thankfully I’m saved having to respond because I catch a hint of blue from the corner of my eye, and I turn around to see that Grady is right beside me.

Grady slips into a chair. ‘Hey guys,’ he says lightly, folding his legs under the table. ‘So … see you found the Junction, Dan. If this is the last pub at the end of the universe, then we are in serious trouble, right?’

Daniel shrugs. ‘I dunno. I sort of like the fact that nothing has changed since I left. And this place has character.’ He taps Grady’s arm and points to Mr Grey, who is currently trying, unsuccessfully, to start a conga line near the door.

‘Character?’ Grady says with a grin. ‘Right. And that character would be a hobo in a questionable trench coat shouting obscenities on the street?’

I toss a coaster at Grady’s head. ‘Domenic here already has one foot out of Eden Valley’s door, Daniel. Check your car, cos you might have yourself a stowaway.’

Daniel drapes an arm over the back of my chair. ‘Grady, man, you haven’t changed a bit,’ he says with a smile. ‘You were always tripping over your own feet to run forwards. Dude, can I give you some advice? Chill out. Look around. The rest of the world isn’t going anyplace.’ He bursts out laughing. ‘Well, you know – theoretically.’

To an outside observer, Grady’s face would be expressionless, but I know that look of his – what I have dubbed his baby-lawyer face. I can tell he’s sifting through the responses in his head, carefully picking his words before he lets himself speak.

‘Sage advice.’ Grady says eventually. ‘But trust
me
, one week of listening to the guys at the post office talk about the price of cheese, and you’ll be hoofing it out of here.’

He smiles. ‘And I remember you had big plans of your own, once upon a time. I think they had something to do with building the world’s biggest Lego fort, but still. You can’t tell me that you’re not hanging to get back to your real life?’

Daniel blows his hair out of his eyes. ‘Maybe not. I don’t have to be on set for another month – maybe I’ll stick around. Assuming we’re not attacked by Dark Elves or killer tomatoes or something.’ He tugs lightly at the end of my hair in that familiar, naughty way he used to do when we were little. ‘Whaddya think, Sarah? I promise I will be on my best behaviour. Not a single mini pig shall cross your eyeballs.’