Katoomba, Bondi, Nowra. There were trains coming in from everywhere but Kempsey!
"Are you sure he was coming from Kempsey?"
"Where else would he come from?"
"Kempsey's a long way, I reckon he probably would have had to change trains somewhere,"
"He told me he'd get into Central at 6:50pm on the Kempsey train. I'm not traipsing all over Central station to find the train he forgot to say he'd be changing onto," At least Kellie had been considerate enough to tell her she was getting a train from Ballarat to Melbourne, then catching the National Rail train straight to Sydney. Brodie had picked her up that morning (8:30am on the dot), and they'd been window shopping all day; in ten hours they'd graduated from acquaintances to friends. There was nothing quite like wandering around the streets of Sydney. Except at night. Good thing she'd left her Holden in the station car-park (‘Please God let it still be there'), her house wasn't that far.
"Calm down Brodie, you're stressing again," Kellie's answer to everything was laughter, she obviously loved it, "What's the most likely train he'd be on?"
"I . . . don't know . . . maybe Newcastle?"
"And when's that get in?" at least they had computerised timetables at Central, most of the rest of the state still worked on ‘the next train arrives at' plastic clocks.
"6:48pm," she smiled, "Call me crazy Kell, but you know I think that just might be the one,"
"Nah, you're crazy. He'll be on the one from Adelaide, I know it,"
"Is there even one coming from Adelaide?"
"Probably not. Which platform?"
"Two,"
"Then shouldn't we go?"
"Well considering we don't have tickets, they're not exactly going to let us through, are they?"
"You never know,"
"This is Sydney. Trust me, I know,"

Dylan had sent her a photo two days ago, she'd printed it off that afternoon and stashed it in the folder she'd dug up specifically for the trip (and the years old sheet music still in there had found a new home under her bed). She'd personally expected dreads and hemp, at the very least bare feet or paisley, something that shouted ‘poet' or ‘uni student'. Instead she'd found herself looking at someone who could have been anyone, lounging at home with a beer in one hand, James Joyce's ‘A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man' in the other, an acoustic guitar at his feet and the ghost of a smile on his face. The only thing she could say was that he looked like a blues fan, and only Heaven knew why she thought that. Maybe it was the overly long hair, but wasn't that normally linked with the alternative scene? Who was it that had told her at university everyone dressed to make a statement, it was just the expected thing. Well, the only statement Dylan made, if he made one at all, was that he thought the whole institution was a load of garbage, and he wasn't going to bother with it. A good philosophy to have.
"How are we gonna know this guy anyway? You said you had a photo didn't you?"
"Yeah,"
"Can I see?" reluctantly, Brodie pulled it from her bag. In ten hours, Kellie had already proven that she was one of those people who could always bring a smile to the lips, but she was also a manhunter to rival the Great White shark. Or maybe not, Kell at least was a connoisseur, she liked to sip before she drank; she'd subsequently picked up then dropped three hopefuls that afternoon. "Mmm, me likes," laughter. Bad sign.
"Kell, there's thousands of guys around here. Why bother with one you haven't even met?"
"Yet," she grinned, "I didn't think you were the type to kiss posters before you go to sleep each night, that's something I'd do. Don't tell me you've taken a fancy to him Brodie?"
"Oh please! Give me credit for a few more brain-cells than that,"
"I could take that as an insult you know,"
"But you won't because you know I didn't mean it that way,"
"Yeah, I know, but still, I don't know why you're so worried,"
"Because if you offload him as quickly as you did those other three, it's not going to make for a very friendly trip, and I've worked too hard on this to let you and Dylan spoil it,"
"Okay, okay, jeez," she sounded just a little peeved, but Kellie could never keep a smile off her lips for long. "If I can't have Dylan, what do you reckon my chances are with Zac?"
"You'd better be joking!"
Her shocked look was only half feigned, was there anything Ms. Gaskin held sacred? She and Deyana would get along well. Really well. Deyana with her plain-speaking and Kellie with her irreverent laughter, Brodie could easily picture them chuckling together at a Small Scale Social Rebels meeting.
"Yeah I am," chuckling, "Sort of," they still hadn't known each other long enough for Brodie to be sure if she was. Better not to think about it, the mental pictures weren't exactly comforting, nor were they exactly legal (not for at least another year anyway).
The slow rattle of an approaching train distracted them both.
"Is that it?"
"Probably,"
"Can you see him?"
"The train hasn't even stopped yet!"
"Well?"
"Give me that," with a grin, Brodie snatched the picture back. Even though she knew the stupidity was just a front to get a laugh, being with Kellie made her feel smart. That was probably the intention. What with her almost white hair, Kell pulled it off easily.

So many people with dark hair. Even standing on the seats it was hard to tell one brunette from the next.
"Kell, forget the hair, just look for a guitar. He said he was bringing one,"
"What's he bringing a guitar for?"
"So he can busk in the street and try to refill his bank account,"
"Good luck to him,"
"Nice to know you care,"
"Come on, you know I'm only joking,"
"Yeah I know, but still,"
"It's one of my biggest faults, I admit it, but I don't believe in worrying about things I can't change,"
"So you'd rather do nothing? Just sit back, hanging for Fate to come knock on your door and tell you everything's okay," Brodie shook her head. It was a friendly disagreement, but she still felt sorry for Kell; she'd waited for Fate to bring Hanson to her for how many years? Fate only takes people so far; as the old adage went, God helps those who help themselves.
"Hey, it's not my fault it's been drilled into me that whatever's going to happen will happen,"
"Drilled into you? Or did you choose it? It's a lot easier to blame Fate than to blame yourself,"
"My Mum's real big on the whole preordained destiny thing. She could argue with you for hours, but my life philosophy comes in handy here," she giggled, "I can never change what you think, so why should I worry about it?"
"I'll agree with you there,"
"Excuse me?" carried away, neither had noticed the Newcastle trainload had all but disappeared, "I'm guessing you're Brodie?" the figure from the photo stood in front of them, grinning in amusement, his dark hair pulled back and a guitar case slung over one shoulder. In worn jeans and a flannel overshirt a size too big, he still looked like anybody.
"And you'd be guessing right. Hi," a tattered suitcase was dropped to shake her outstretched hand.
"I'm Dylan,"
"Yeah, I figured," silence and smiles.
"Do you always stand on seats?"
"Uh, no," chuckling, she jumped down, feeling like a real idiot. Eighteen-year-olds were legally considered adults, right? And here she was, standing on a public bench, pretending to argue with a friend, generally acting like she was oh, about four. Still he didn't seem to mind. Things were a lot more laid back where he came from; Kempsey wasn't all that far from Byron Bay, the New Age capital of Australia. "Sorry, I. . . ."
"Sorry for what?" surprisingly, he wasn't teasing her, he honestly wanted to know.
"For making a fool of myself. Can I ask a stupid question?"
"Sure,"
"Can we start again please?"
He had a sweet laugh, open and sincere.
"If you want,"
"Okay. Hi Dylan, how are you? I'm Brodie Palin, and you should know me since we've been talking online for the last couple of weeks, getting this trip together. This is Kellie Gaskin –"
"Hi,"
"– she came in from Ballarat this morning, and we've pretty much gotten to know each other. Misty Irwin is coming from Rockhampton, we're meeting her at the airport. We'll be staying at my house tonight, then my parents'll be dropping us off at the airport tomorrow. I hope you don't mind, they insisted. Hopefully, my car's still in the carpark out the side, so we can get going. Do you need a hand with your bags?" with that little number, she'd probably have a shot at the Guiness record for the world's fastest speaker.
"No, that's okay. Nice speech,"
"Thanks,"
"Brodie, can we get going? I'm sorry, my shoes are killing me," it wasn't hard to imagine what was running through Kellie's mind, especially considering the sly grin she was sending in her friend's direction. Brodie just rolled her eyes, pointedly.
"Can't you take them off?"
"Yeah, but I don't want to,"
"Well, quit complaining then,"
"I can complain if I want,"
"Not in my ears,"
"Do you two always argue like this?" poor Dylan was trying his best not to grin. Failing miserably, but trying.
"It's Kell's way of making me smile. She thinks I stress too much,"
"You do!"
"Okay then," he wasn't having much luck keeping laughter at bay. But then, Brodie was having trouble keeping a smile off her otherwise innocent expression; she'd never acted so stupidly in all her life. They must have been a sight to Dylan, who was used to the work-minded Ankhesamen Brodie. He might not personally think they were acting like a pair of dimwits, but boy, she felt like one. Kellie didn't seem too troubled though.
"It is okay to laugh Dylan, we don't mind," so he did.
"You two are crazy,"
"Oh no, I'm not normally. Only when Kell's around. It's okay, I'm not going to crash my car or anything,"
"You're not a road rager?"
"Hell no, I'm a nervous wreck at anything over 80 k's an hour," sad, but true. She'd had her full license for almost a year, and nobody yet had been able to get her on the freeways. Some people might like speeding down the M1 at 120km's an hour, but Brodie Palin was definitely not one of them.
"Over 80?"
"My greatest fear after heights," of course she didn't mention going down escalators, her feelings for them came close to neurotic. Everyone has their own little phobia, spiders or lizards or rats, but for Pete's sake, who's terrified of going down escalators?
"I can sympathise with you there,"
"Do you get vertigo from standing on chairs?"
"I get vertigo going down steps!"
"Especially steel ones that you can see through?"
"Please, I get dizzy just thinking about it,"
"You think they might have a Vertigo Sufferers Anonymous?"
"Probably, they've got ones for everything else,"
"Hello? Yoohoo, over here. Kellie would like to go home," was Kellie not used to being ignored? Even if it wasn't deliberate?
"So would Brodie come to think of it. Are you sure you don't need a hand with those bags?"
"Positive," he looked to be handling it all, and Kellie's luggage was already back at the house.
"Okay then, let's go,"

Deyana was waiting when the dark green Barina pulled into the concrete driveway, in a surprisingly pretty residential suburb. Whoever cut the grass, clipped the hedges and pruned the trees had his work cut out for him.
"Jeez Bro, what took you so long!"
"Nice to see you too Dey," Brodie was in too good a mood to do anything but smile, "Instead of standing there, would you give us a hand with the bags,"
"Anything you say Princess Palin,"
"Shut-up," Eyeing her best-friend with what could almost be called suspicion, Deyana walked towards the car, pulling Brodie aside as she popped the boot open from a lever under the dashboard.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Fine why?"
"Just wondering," she turned, watching Brodie's guests unload the boot, "Who's the dish?"
"Who, Dylan?"
"No, the chic, the one making eyes at him,"
"That's Kellie," following her friend's gaze, Brodie muffled a laugh against her hand. Poor Kellie, the girl just couldn't help herself. "I'll do introductions in a sec, once we get everything inside. Give us a hand?"
"Which bag's the heaviest, I missed cadets this afternoon,"
"What for?" since when had Deyana ever missed cadets? She loved every second of it, reckoned it satisfied some primal masochistic instinct in her.
"I thought since it was your last day in the country for a while, we might hit the shops. You never came home, so I kept ringing, and by the time I gave up, cadets was over," the shrug said it all, "I thought I'd come over and keep your mother company for a while,"
"Dey, I'm sorry,"
"It's okay, really,"
"No it's not. I should have called you or something, you could have come with us,"
"Hey, who cares? You're here, I'm here, I brought pretzels and jelly babies, we can get a nice little food fight going,"
‘Idiot, idiot, idiot!' when was she going to learn that Brodie took almost everything to heart? That was probably half the reason why she was so happy, a month's worth of planning was coming together, her friends were in Sydney, everything was falling into place, she was caught up in the moment. Of course Bro'd start blaming herself because she, Deyana, had been too lazy to get up off her arse and call the night before. Idiot!
Grinning, Brodie grabbed a particularly large bag and heaved it at Deyana – who managed to catch it inches from the ground.
"Just so long as you take the wrap for the melted jelly-babies in the carpet next time Mum goes to vacuum,"
"Deal!" who was she to rain on her best-friend's good mood? If anything, it was contagious.

Mrs. Palin had outdone herself with dinner, she hadn't called for pizza. There was one thing she hated more than ironing, and that was cooking. Still, they had guests, the least she could do was try and throw something together.
The lasange that had come out of her oven looked sorrier than the kitchen, which looked like a tornado had gone through. She'd thrown it out, then begged her husband to bring an extra large frozen one home from the local pasta shop. The rest of the afternoon had been spent cleaning up the kitchen, and the house. Her baby girl had said two people were staying with them overnight, a girl from Ballarat, and a boy from Kempsey. And in all likelihood Deyana would be staying as well. That was okay, three people was good, she could handle three people. The girls could bunk down on the corner lounge, the boy could sleep in Daniel's room, Daniel would just have to find somewhere else to stay. Bluntly, Mrs. Palin had told him not to come home at all either today or tomorrow; she didn't want her guests to see him or his bad habits. Why was he still living with them anyway? For Heaven's sakes, he was twenty-three! Mr. Palin had arrived with the lasange in his hand and Deyana following up behind. Now she was a nice girl. Deyana was intelligent and witty, and she was excellent company. Why couldn't Brodie be more like her best-friend?

Introductions had been made, dinner had been eaten, Mr. and Mrs. Palin had retreated upstairs, and it was Kellie's turn in the shower. Dylan, Brodie and Deyana sat around an archaic coffeetable, cards in hand. The intimidating stares they threw across the table at each other pinched the silence, anticipating. It was Dey's turn.
"Brodie," the smug grin belied her question, "Got any fives?"
"Go fish," the innocent expression belied her dancing eyes. She had two cards left, and more pairs than both her opponents combined. "My turn. Dylan. Let's see . . . do you have any . . . hmmm . . . any jacks?"
"Bitch," he muttered, good-naturedly, as he passed her the card. "Um, Dey, an ace?"
"Sorry, Go fish,"
"Damn," sighing, Dylan slid another card into his already overflowing hand and got a pair, but still, he had too big a hand and not enough pairs to win. Normally he was so good at card-playing, a master at Patience, both one and two handed, Euchre, Poker, Five Hundred, anything. Looked like it'd be back to Card Kindergarten with him when he got home, what kind of master was one who lost - very convincingly - three straight games of Go Fish?
"How many cards is that now?" although, he had to admit, Brodie was good at what she did, both playing Go Fish and never letting him forget he was losing. She also let him know it was all in good fun, which the rules of card-playing stated anyway.
"As opposed to your one Bro? Too many,"
"Hey, I told you, never play against a master,"
"A master cheat," gesturing pointedly to the fourteen pairs Brodie had on the table, Dey grinned. If Brodie was a cheat, then she was pretty good at covering it up.
"You wound me with your words, Mistress Sour Grapes,"
"I'll give you more than that in a second! Death by paper cuts,"
"Ladies please, no catfights. We wouldn't want Kellie to miss out,"
"True, true. Dey, your go,"
"Dylan, got an eight?"
"Go fish," the suppressed giggle told them it was all over.
"Oh shit, Brodie's got the look. You've got an eight?" her laugh was all the answer they needed, "Shit! Bro, that's four games straight you've beaten us!"
"What can I say? Master,"
"Master in the little leagues maybe,"
"And please tell us King Richard, what you'd class as major league?"
"Five Hundred,"
Brodie shook her head, "We don't have a Five Hundred deck, and before you even ask, strip Poker is out of the question,"
"You have a sick mind Palin,"
"Yeah, I wonder. Euchre?"
"Uh. . . ."
"We can always play checkers you know. Brodie and I still have a challenge to the death to finish," grinning, Dey silently counted the seconds it took for him to cave. She didn't get past one.
"Okay, Euchre it is,"

Kellie as it turned out wasn't a huge fan of cards, she was asleep within half-an-hour of rejoining humanity. What was worse, she'd bagged the best side of the corner lounge. The heater was running flat-out, but Brodie had still grabbed the quilt off her bed. Another one of the late cold snaps, a bane of August and September. Deyana had nodded off on her best-friend's shoulder, midway through the last game of checkers.
"Please tell me again why we're deliberately trying to stay awake," Dylan rested his arms on the table, and his chin on his arms. His brown eyes looked darker with exhaustion.
"Dad said the longer we can stay awake, the less jetlag we'll get. Think of it like New Year's Eve,"
"I doubt staying up later on New Year's means you'll have less of a hangover when you finally wake up," she was too tired to do anything but smile weakly. "Your move,"
"Yeah I know," how was she supposed to concentrate on checkers when she was too focused on fighting off sleep. Yawning softly, she moved the first piece that came to hand.
"Anyway, on New Year's you only have to stay up till midnight. It's 2:35 and it's not New Year's,"
"In other words, you want to sleep,"
"Yeah,"
"Me too," neither moved. "Would you give me a hand getting Dey onto the lounge?"
"Sure," and they both forced their already dozing legs to move, and somehow manoeuvred Sleeping Beauty up onto the empty side of the lounge.
"Bro?"
"Mmm?"
"Where's my room?"
"It's down the hall, second door on the left,"
"Where's that?" she sighed, not in frustration, just exhaustion. So tired.
"Here, I'll show you," dragging aching sleep-deprived feet behind her, Brodie forced herself to keep moving. She knew Dylan was behind her, she could hear his shallow yawns every few steps. Not exactly a nocturnal person, unlike most uni students she knew, who preferred to sleep through the day and do any work (i.e. party) at night.
Daniel's room wasn't the pigsty she expected to see, but that barely registered with senses that all shouted in unison the magic words of sleep and dreams.
"Here,"
"Thanks," he'd already collapsed on the mattress, she'd already half-closed the door when he thought to call out, "Good night," it was nothing, an automatic reaction, but it still brought the shadow of a smile to her lips.
"Night," the door closed, and dignity aside, she allowed herself to stumble back to her room. The sheets she managed to throw back before she tumbled into them, wrapping the warmth around her, and slipping into oblivion.