The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl (28 page)

‘Ed, you’re gonna have plenty more chances to witness your dad’s nad-breaking,’ Pete says with a grin. ‘I saw him on YouTube. What was he wearing? A mankini?’

Caroline throws her cup at Pete’s head. ‘Dude! Inappropriate! Don’t talk about your friends’ dad’s junk.’

I curl my fingers through Grady’s and pull his arms more tightly around me. He buries his face in my hair, silent laughter rumbling through him.

‘Okay enough!’ I yelp. ‘I love you guys, so don’t take this personally, but seriously? You all need to kind of – get lost now.’

Caroline rolls her eyes. Eddie gives Pete a punch in the arm. But they’re all grinning like idiots.

Caroline grabs Tia by the elbow and Petey by the back of his T-shirt. ‘We’ll be at the Junction when you’re ready to find us. Happy new year, guys,’ she says with a wink as she drags a still-smiling Tia away by the arm.

Eddie looks at us for a moment longer, and then he gives us his two-fingered wave. ‘World didn’t end, in case you were wondering,’ he calls over his shoulder, as I turn around, and Grady’s lips meet mine, and the rest of the universe just melts away.

I have no idea what time zone the Rapture was supposed to be in. It’s possible that somewhere in the world, a bunch of Amazonian tribespeople or French goat herders are staring at a boiling sky and feeling pretty stupid for bothering to do their laundry or whatnot today. But I doubt it. Somehow – despite the shenanigans of the past two weeks – I think everyone always suspected that we were going to be just fine.

We arrive home to find that all of our plastic flamingos have disappeared, and some random dude is passed out on my banana lounge, wrapped like a ham with our glowing paper lanterns, pornographic Sharpie doodles covering his face.

Honestly? At this point, I’m mostly just over the amateur graffiti porn.

Grady and I find ourselves on my green couch, in a tangle of arms and legs and kisses and stories, and fits of giggles that keep engulfing us out of the blue. At some point while our lips are smooshed together, I open my eyes to find that his are wide open too, and he’s looking at me like he’s not entirely convinced I’m real. Once, in the middle of a particularly awesome kiss, he pinches me lightly on the arm, and he shakes his head incredulously. ‘Just checking,’ he says with a grin.

Grady was right about one thing. It’s weird, but not weird. If anything, it’s just a bit perplexing – like, this plate of delicious apple strudel has been staring us in the face, and we’ve been choosing the quinoa or something. Grady cracks up laughing when I tell him this, even though I thought it was a pretty decent metaphor. I suppose it’s like so many things; the angst about doing way more terrifying than the actual leap.

The sun rises. The birds do their thing. Cleo and Angie stumble into the kitchen, where Grady and I have dragged ourselves for breakfast. I am perched on a counter, and Grady is standing in front of me. We’re smooching beside a frypan of burning pancakes and so, I think, have reasonable grounds for taking several seconds to realise that our mums are in the doorway. Most normal parents would probably have the decency to act embarrassed or something, but
nooo
– our mothers shriek as if they’ve discovered the ghost of Kurt Cobain hiding in the Garabaldis’ basement. Mum gets all misty-eyed, and Cleo envelops Grady in a hug with congratulatory back-slaps that make his sheepish face turn the colour of a strawberry tart.

Apart from all that? New Year’s Day proves to be pretty uneventful.

Eventually, when the sun has risen on the weary crowds, Grady decides he needs to go home to change, and I decide that spending the night in the same clothes is probably not a habit I should adopt as a signature statement.

An hour or so later, I’m waiting on Albany’s verandah for him to come back. I’ve laid out a plate of yesterday’s food, but my appetite has evaporated. After some deliberation, I’d texted Daniel. I know that his family have decided to leave today. But however stubborn my boys may be, I’m not letting Daniel go anywhere without at least trying to patch things up between us first.

I’m sitting half-asleep on our stairs, doodling sketches on my black Chucks, when I see it. Across the road at the Wasileskis’ service station – that shiny bald head, and a flash of a Fu Manchu.

‘Oi!’ I yell, bolting across the litter-strewn road. ‘Original Ned – Alvin Smith!’

He turns around, already grimacing. ‘I have no statement,’ he says hurriedly.

‘You’re seriously just going to sneak out?’ I say breathlessly. ‘It’s not like a fart in a lift, Ned! You can’t just skulk away and pretend it wasn’t you!’

He looks frantically down the road, but the few people wandering around seem lost in a haze of their own hangovers. ‘What do you want from me?’ he whines.

Up close, Original Ned is a good few inches shorter than me. I plant my hands on my hips and frown down at him. ‘How about, like, an explanation? Come on, man! What in the actual hell?’

He fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket and honks his nose. He glances past Albany’s and the circus that is the Palmers’ farm. And then he sighs.

‘They were going to cancel my show,’ he says quietly. ‘I thought maybe I’d get a couple more fans … I never expected any of this.’

‘Ned. Really. This whole thing … was just your big plan to boost ratings?’

He shrugs. ‘Something like that.’

‘
Dude
! Your show sits between the midnight prayer hour and home videos of Lebanese weddings. Did you ever think of just – I dunno – getting a real job?’

He gives me a sheepish smile. ‘But it worked, didn’t it? Maybe a smidge better than I expected, but … I just got tired of being small. You know? Honestly, I didn’t think more than a few people would pay attention. I never understood that whole Twitter business.’

Ned looks at me uncertainly. I’m not sure I can make sense of my warring instincts – to give his shiny head a sympathy pat, or to punch the Fu Manchu right off his fake-tanned face.

‘Is that it? Can I leave now?’ he says wearily.

I cross my arms. ‘No. One last question, Alvin. Why
here
? Did you just spin around and point at a map?’

‘Ah. Not exactly …’ And then he straightens, like the weight of the world has lifted from his shoulders. ‘I sold a house once in Merindale Creek. Did you know I used to work in real estate? Crap job, boring as hell, but I remember passing through this town. It was … nice. Friendly, and peaceful.’ He nods his head at Albany’s. ‘Dunno if you’ve eaten there, but they make a really fabulous apple strudel. I always wanted to come back for one of those.’

I stare at him. ‘Apple. Fecking. Strudel,’ I say. And then I burst out laughing.

Original Ned smooths down his moustache. ‘Well. Sorry ’bout all this. You know, I didn’t even know my show was on YouTube. One of the work experience kids must have put it up there. But I’m thinking I’ll look at a web series or something next. Who knew the internet was where it’s all happening, hey?’

I’m still laughing when he saunters to his caravan and chugs away down Main Street, a cloud of confetti and party-popper streamers swirling merrily in his wake.

•

It’s strangely mild this morning. A breeze whispers through the trees, and for the first time in weeks, my skin doesn’t feel like it’s melting. From Albany’s verandah, the wandering people seemed chilled, too. I think I can finally appreciate the vibe here; this communal feeling of having survived something major. Even if that major-something was remarkably idiotic.

None of which explains the nerviness that churns through my belly when Daniel’s manager’s car pulls up in front of Albany’s.

Daniel walks languidly towards the bakery and peers through the verandah railings. ‘Sarah Jane. Happy new year.’ He takes the stairs and leans back against a table. ‘I’d give you a kiss, but not sure my ego can hack being shot down again.’ He looks at me through his eyelashes, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. I can’t for the life of me decipher his expression. ‘So. Guess this is goodbye. Again,’ he says.

I leap down from my table. ‘You’re leaving right now?’

He glances briefly at the plate of food. ‘Yeah. I’ve got a photo shoot lined up tomorrow. Some “isn’t it great we didn’t die in a fiery asteroid explosion” thing for a website. It’s lame. But publicity, right?’

‘Sure,’ I reply vaguely. ‘Anything for your fans.’

He rocks back on his heels. ‘Listen, Alba, there’s something I need to say, and you’re probably not gonna want to hear me, but I think it’s important that you do –’

Grady takes the stairs two at a time and lands beside me with a thud. His familiar smell of soap and shampoo and the fleeting, loaded smile he flicks in my direction temporarily renders me all fuzzy and unfocused. ‘Hey,’ he says faintly at Daniel.

‘Hey,’ Daniel replies. ‘So … come to kiss me goodbye, Grady? I’m flattered –’

‘I’m not here for you,’ Grady says evenly. ‘The only reason I’m here is because Alba asked. I think I’ve accepted the fact that you and I left anything we had in common behind us when we were ten, Daniel.’

Daniel sighs. He rubs his eyes tiredly. ‘So what, you want to have another go at me? Domenic, I know we’ve missed some years, but I’ve known you for a long time and I’ve never seen you that worked up. You even
bothered
analysing why?’ He shakes his head. ‘Besides, you need to work on your duck and weave. My manager had drunk half a bottle of Bundaberg, and he has a lazy eye, and he
still
managed to land one while you stood there like one of those hypnotised goats –’

‘Daniel, shut it! God, are you auditioning for the role of generic henchman? Once upon a time, you were actually a really decent guy!’ I reach over, unthinkingly, for Grady. He covers my hand with both of his and pulls my arm towards him. ‘Where did that boy go?’

Daniel’s eyes widen. They dart back and forth between Grady and me. And his face dissolves into a slow smile. But it’s not his condescending smile, or his smug smile. Daniel Gordon is looking at Grady and me, and his smile seems really, genuinely … warm. And, inexplicably, relieved.

‘Jes
us
! You two took your time. Thought I was going to have to put the moves on Grady next. I almost resorted to randomly taking my shirt off – always seems to work for Indigo.’

I gape at Daniel. He waggles an eyebrow at me. And the itchy thing that’s been irritating my brain since that night at the Junction becomes suddenly, patently clear.

‘Are you
serious
?’ I squeal. ‘This whole time …?’

Daniel giggles, an ancient, maniacal sound of his that I remember way too well. ‘Well, it’s true that I like brunettes. Okay, having a crack at kissing you was probably a rash move, but I was seriously running out of ideas.’

‘You were …
running out of ideas
? Daniel – you manipulative arsebag!’ I yell. ‘What would you have done if I’d kissed you back? What the hell made you think I wouldn’t? Hello – have you
seen
you?’

Grady makes a kind of snorting, grunting sound at my side.

The colour rises in Daniel’s face. ‘Yeah. I didn’t actually think that far ahead. Though, if you actually
did
wanna kiss me, Sarah, I probably wouldn’t have said no. I meant it when I said you have awesome lips, and, you know, I am a guy.’ He grins sheepishly at us. ‘Alba, you and I might have been tight once upon a time – but it was always supposed to be you and Grady. Everyone knew that.
I
knew you both knew that, somewhere in those stubborn-arse heads of yours. I’m just glad you guys finally figured it out too.’

‘I just … cannot believe you thought you could play us like that!’ I say, though I can’t help but laugh a little bit too.

Daniel bows, the cheese-eating grin back on his face. ‘Yeah, well, remember this performance when I’m accepting my first Oscar,’ he says with a wink. ‘And they say I’m a sucky actor. Honestly, what do they expect? You know the guy who plays my dad is stoned half the time? Try emoting to that.’

Grady is gaping, fish-like, in his direction. ‘Dude. Your manager punched me in the face,’ he bleats.

Daniel grimaces. ‘Yeah. Sorry ’bout that. But to be fair, you
were
planning on smashing my face in first. And, you know, he’s an arse, but he’s actually a pretty decent manager. Whaddya gonna do? It’s a weird business.’

‘But Daniel …
why
?’ I say.

Daniel smiles, but it’s far away, and tinged with sadness. ‘I really did miss you guys like crazy when I left. You have no idea. Try being plucked out of the only place you’ve ever called home and thrown into a city school with, like, a thousand people. And when you looked like I did back then …’ The tips of his ears turn pink. ‘I’ve got some great mates now. But I’ve never found friends like I had when I was a kid. I guess … it always made me happy to think that you two were still together.’ He chuckles. ‘And your friends were getting sick of your will-they-won’t-they antics. Not even a soap opera can stretch that storyline out for seventeen years. You should’ve heard the verbal tsunami they unleashed on me that first day in the grocery store. Why do you think I volunteered to give you both a prod? Have to say, it was the funnest job I’ve had in a while.’