Free The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl by Melissa Keil

’, no doubt as his eyes land on the shiny BMW parked in front of the house.
    I take another floaty step forward.
    And there he is.
    He’s unloading a rucksack from the car, a pile of bags at his feet. I catch a glimpse of a woman with a neat auburn bob disappearing into the house. Daniel’s mum was always pretty set in her ways; dunno why I’m surprised she has the same hairstyle almost a decade after I saw her last.
    Grady glances over his shoulder at me. Then he faces forward and clears his throat.
    Daniel turns, gold aviators glinting in the sun. He gives us a look that’s part exasperated, part benign resignation. He blows his hair off his face with a puff.
    ‘Hey, look, we’ve been on the road since hell-time this morning, and I’ve just stepped out of the car – and I really need to pee – happy to sign some autographs, but give us a minute, would you?’ And though his voice is a few shades deeper than the last time I spoke to him, and though the only words I’ve heard it speak recently are cheesy lines, I would know that voice – languid, but with laughter bubbling behind it – anywhere.
    Grady’s Vans scuff at the gravel. ‘No, we’re not here for an autograph. Um, sorry to bother you, but … do you know who I am?’
    Daniel looks at him blankly. And then, ever so slowly, he takes off his sunglasses. He blinks at Grady like he’s trying to focus a mirage.
    ‘No. Freaking. Way,’ he whispers. He steps tentatively towards him. ‘Domenic? It’s you? You’re … still here?’ Daniel swallows. The tips of his ears turn fiery scarlet. My brain may have short-circuited, but I’m failing to grasp why his expression suggests he’s just been pantsed by the Ghost of Christmas Past.
    And then he seems to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in, and he covers the space between us in a few theatrical bounds. ‘Hey!’ he yelps, grabbing Grady in one of those boy hugs that’s all back-slap and no below-the-chest contact. ‘I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re still here – I thought for sure your mum would have moved on ages ago.’ He clasps his hands around Grady’s arms, and he beams at him with his blinding Indigo smile. ‘Jesus, Grady – you got tall , man. What the hell happened?’
    Grady grins, giving his arms a thump back. ‘Puberty. Still convinced this place might be built on a radioactive alien crash-site. Nice to see you again, too, Dan. You … look good, dude. I mean, we’ve seen you on TV, but, yeah. You … changed. Nice hair.’ Grady clears his throat again. ‘Well done on that.’
    But Daniel doesn’t appear to be listening. His brow is furrowed, his familiar too-blue eyes zeroed in on me, and suddenly I’m ten years old again, watching as he waves goodbye through the back window of his parents’ car, a Spider-man PEZ dispenser in my hand and a medley of Mum’s sad-arse Lisa Loeb music in my heart.
    ‘That – is not possible,’ Daniel says quietly, his frowny forehead trained on me. ‘Sarah Jane … Alba ?’
    Eddie drapes one arm firmly around my shoulders. It’s like being hit across the back with a piece of two-by-four, but it also momentarily clears the brain-freeze. I wiggle out from his grip. ‘Heya, Daniel. It’s me. Jeez. It’s … been a while.’
    ‘Hey … yourself,’ he says as his arms – nice, nice muscly arms – envelop me in a giant hug. My arms snake around him too, but it feels a little like I’m hugging an apparition. All I can think is that the surrealness of the potential apocalypse has got nothing on this. I hug him back, noting hazily through his T-shirt abs that are most definitely not CGI, and half-expecting Indigo’s fish-lipped love interest to appear from off-screen and punch me in the face.
    Daniel pulls away and holds me at arm’s length. He looks me up and down, his eyebrows climbing skywards. I’m wearing my favourite cherry-red sailor dress and black Chucks, an outfit that even on an ordinary day turns