Finding Abby

11

"Things are changing pretty quick, huh?" Finn glances at me.

"Well, Finnigan," I smile at him, "in ten years, you'll have a business degree and you'll be wearing business suits and doing gazillion dollar deals from your yacht."

"That's the dream," he grins. "And you'll be there to look after me, right? You can massage my hands when my thumb gets sore from texting zeros. Ka-ching! Ka-ching!"

"You better piff that fantasy off," I chuckle.

"You really should reconsider your career options." The next song comes on with an avalanche of bass notes and Finn turns the volume up. "Silent Moth."

"So good," I exhale, picking up the cassette cover. "My dad must've loved them. Three Silent Moth songs and two of Ben's band. I wonder if one of The Disappointed songs is the one Silent Moth covered?" I read the song list to Finn and he shakes his head.

"Dunno."

"Imagine having your song recorded by a massive band."

"Wonder if Ben gets royalties."

"How much would he get?"

"No idea," Finn shrugs. "I'm pretty stoked to hear The Disappointed actually," he says as the cattle-truck veers away from us into a petrol station. "Your dad must've really liked Ben's band to put them on a mixtape for your mum."

Finn presses the accelerator and we speed up. I wind the window down again. The road is empty around us and we're free. The fresh air and wide open spaces mean I can clear my head for a bit.

"My dad and Ben must've been good friends." I say, rubbing my thumb over the wristband.

"If I had friends in a band," Finn grins at me, "I'd feel compelled to like them even if they were shit."

I turn to him. "What? You think The Disappointed might be a dud?"

Finn glances in the rear-view mirror and back at me with curled lips forming that cheeky smile he does sometimes. "Nah but imagine if Alex and Zee were in a band and it was a dud. I'd have to pretend to listen to their album and want to go to their shows—"

I laugh. "You could tell them you weren't into it. They'd understand."

Finn shakes his head and taps his thumbs on the steering wheel in time to the heavy beat. "I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"I don't wanna be the one to crush someone's dreams."

"But you might be doing them a favour—"

"Not my favour to do," Finn grins. "And, who knows, other people might like them." He nods his head as the song escalates into a heavy guitar-riff. "I'm too nice, I guess."

I stare at his profile – short nose and broad cheekbones and easy smile. He's right. He is nice. More than nice. He's beyond nice. I want him to always be too nice because that's what makes Finn, Finn.

"What are you expecting to find at the end of the road? At that address?" Finn asks, giving me a quick look when I don't say anything. I can tell he's clocked me gazing at him, so I shift my eyes down to the tape cover; run my finger across the message my dad left for my mum inside it.

I know what I want to find, but I don't know if I can say it aloud. I'm too worried that what I find will be the opposite of what I want.

I don't answer him.

After a while, Finn sucks his bottom lip in. "We'll stop for petrol in Colac, yeah?" He looks at me with big eyes and comical raised eyebrows. "If we don't get lost."