Page 74 of Good Losers (Lochkelvin Academy)

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Edinburgh is alive in a way I never knew a city could be. It heaves with people, each of them bustling around, heads ducked in confusion or pointing up at yet another pretty building. The minute space is crammed with old churches and large hotels, glossy department stores and galleries, plus a massive tree-lined park in the heart of the city, where pigeons seem to gather en masse.

I’m almost so distracted by the goings-on of the city that I nearly miss something — or someone — very important. Because when we round the corner of the main shopping precinct, passing busy horn-blaring trams and clueless pedestrians, the oddest sight meets my eyes.

Time seems to slow to a crawl, stretching elastically as we turn the corner, before speeding up again in a blur.

I crane my neck, trying to peer out the rear window.

It can’t have been, I think to myself with a frown.My eyes must be mistaking me. Itcan’tbe.

Finlay continues driving down a cobbled side street. No one else appears to notice that I’m performing wild gymnastics in my own mind.

But the more I stare at the figure on the street corner, the one shrinking in the rapidly growing distance, the more I realize I need to get out on the off-chance I’m right.

“Stop the car.”

Finlay meets my gaze, confusion clouding his bright green eyes, but he indicates obligingly and pulls over. Beside me, Luke lowers his dark brows, and I don’t even want to know what Rory’s face is doing as I unlock the car door and stumble out onto the sidewalk.

“Perhaps a realization that she deserves better than us,” I hear Luke remark calmly, his voice drifting toward me as I run down the street. Car doors slam behind me as they step out of the vehicle, and I glance back to see Rory and Finlay lounging against the side of the car as they stretch their legs, their eyes following me with interest.

“If she needed the loo, we’re only two minutes from the flat,” Rory grumbles.

I run and I run and I run to the street corner. And as he comes into view, my heart begins to thunder.

Because leaning against a stone wall, devouring an overstuffed baguette sandwich like it’s his sole mission in life, is Danny.

He doesn’t look like Danny. He doesn’t even dress like Danny. He’s wearing chinos and rugged tan work boots, a lightweight olive-green jacket tied haphazardly around his waist, plus several tasseled scarves draped around his neck. And beside his feet is a backpack large enough to carry a rolled-up tent and several large flasks.

He looks more like an intrepid explorer than a homely sci-fi geek.

“Danny?” I ask hesitantly, approaching him slowly, because maybe I’ve got this wrong. Maybe Danny has a doppelganger, or a twin I never knew about. He could be a tourist from the other side of the world. But I know the shape of his mouth, the wave of his soft brown hair, the precise constellation of freckles that appears on the bridge of his nose in sunlight.

He’s my Danny, I’m almost entirely sure of it.

It takes a moment for my voice to register. But when it does, he stops feasting on his sandwich and turns in my direction.

And then I know. Because no one else has eyes like him, those warm brown eyes that look like an actual puppy’s.

I launch myself into his arms and greet him with a bear hug.

“Jessa?” he mumbles into my hair, sounding stunned, and I hold him and hold him and squeeze him so tight that it hurtsme. He laughs slightly, hugging me back with the same amount of force. I’m pretty sure I feel a few ribs break in the process, but I find myself not particularly caring. “I can’t believe it. Is it really you?”

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, the same time he asks me the same question.

I gape at him. “What amIdoing here? You were supposed to be up north!” I stare at him, confused. “Are you on vacation?”

Danny gives a dark bark of laughter. “You think my dad ever takes vacations? You don’t take a vacation from serving the good Lord. No. No, I, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck, and this close up, I see pink sunburn on the tips of his ears. “Actually, I-I ran away.”

I blink at him. “You what?”

He shrugs, glancing to the side, holding his sandwich like a lifeline. Slices of jalapeno fall to his fingers as he begins to wave it around vehemently. “I ran. I couldn’t do it, Jessa. I couldn’t hold out. Eight weeks with him banging on about what a sinner I am? Icouldn’t. I just… I had to run. So I did. Hitchhiked wherever I could.” A giddy tour group passes between us, and Danny pauses, giving me an apologetic look. “Er, d’you mind?” he asks once the tour group leaves our vicinity, nodding down at his sandwich and scooping up a few of the wandering jalapeno slices. “I haven’t really eaten in alongwhile.”

With wide eyes, I shake my head. Danny resumes mauling his sandwich with impressive vigor, his eyes sliding shut with a sigh of satisfaction and his head slumping against the stone wall.

“D’you wanna…?” I stop, wondering how I’m ever going to explain the next bit. I glance back, and in the distance I see Rory leaning against the car with his arms folded, Finlay drumming on the roof and probably annoying Luke, who’s obstinately remained inside. The sun shines on them both.

Poor Luke, I think to myself. Still locked away and hidden from the world.

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