Finding Abby

3

Minda and I hug as hard as we can at her front door. She promises to text me to let me know how her dada is doing. I promise to let her know about the mixtape and if I find out anything. Even though she's still here the gap between us already seems huge. I'm going to miss her so much.

I pull my backpack with the mixtape in it over my shoulders and haul my bike up from her driveway. Koroit is such a small town that we live only a short walk around the corner from each other but I like riding my bike so I can get everywhere without relying on anyone.

When I get closer to my house, I see Finn up ahead carrying the portable stereo. He's wearing a hoodie with long shorts and Converse and looks his usual casual calm self.

I call out to him and he waits for me to wheel my bike across the road.

Finn reminds me of one of those kids on the cover of a soap packet from the Fifties. He's got this sweet-natured, freckled face — round and relaxed — all outward and positive. Always smiling with his eyes sparkling and friendly like sunshine on a wave.

"What's the deal with the old technology?" he asks me, holding up the cassette player, his sandy curls like a halo around his face.

"I .. uh ...found a mixtape from the Nineties I want to listen to."

"A mixtape, huh? A journey through someone's deepest feelings." Finn steps in next to me and nudges his elbow softly into my arm. "Any good bands?"

"The Cure. Nirvana. Sonic Youth. Lots of nineties bands. Grunge stuff."

"Silent Moth?" Finn asks.

"A couple of songs, yeah," I say.

"My dad's obsessed with them."  I push a tinge of jealousy down when Finn says this. But I'm used to it. All my friends have a dad. Except me. I live for their dad stories.  "Got all their albums. Everything. Still wears the t-shirt from their 2002 tour. I could listen to it with you after we've been to the beach if you want—"

"No." My voice comes out too fast probably because it's enough for me that I even found the tape. Listening to it takes things to a totally new level. With Minda gone, I'm going to have to find the right time. Which is definitely not right now. And, even though I really like Finn, he's not the person I want to listen to it with.

"I mean, no, thanks," I say, stumbling over my words. "I'm not in a hurry to listen to it. I wanted to get the player so ... when I'm ... ready ... I can."

Luckily Finn's focus seems to still be on bands and music and not me because he says, "The grunge era." His gaze wanders away into the distance. "If I could I'd go back and live that era over any. No phones. No social media. Everyone was just" —he looks back at me and gives me a smile— "real."

I shift my eyes from his and concentrate on lifting my bike up onto the bluestone gutter as we head past the footy oval towards my house.

That's when I notice a car parked on the grassy nature strip out the front of my place I'm not familiar with. It's not like we get many visitors anyway, but this car's a standout.

"Is that a panel van?" Finn's voice is all breathy.

"No idea."

The van's lime green with polished chrome bumpers and wheel trims that gleam in the sun. It's sleek and rounded with a long bonnet and a gleaming covered part at the back. Written on the back is the word: 'Sandman' in funky, wavy letters underneath the tilt up door. A green and yellow flame design runs right down each side. Even though I'm not into cars, it looks pretty special.

"Shit, it's incredible," Finn gushes as his eyes slide across the schmick-looking vehicle. "An original Sandman."

"What's a Sandman?"