The closer he and Joey get to the beach, the more Neo is regretting ever agreeing to this.

In fact, Neo had basically forgotten about the stupid beach party until Joey burst in to the living room, already in his favorite muscle tee and shorts, and stared at a pajama-clad Neo. "Oh, come on," Joey said. "You're not wearing that, are you?"

So, after scrambling—reluctantly so—out of his pajamas and into a very touristy Hawaiian shirt he owned, he clambered into Uncle Duke's pick-up, which Joey had received special permission to drive tonight. Now, Neo rolls his window down, watching the dark, undulating mass that is the sea and letting the night breeze tousle his curls. Up ahead, at the base of the mountain, he can see a blur of orange-white, as well as the tangle of shadows around it. The music is loud enough to hear even from this distance.

Neo is really regretting this now.

"Remember," Joey is saying, half-yelling over the alt song blasting from the radio. "You are my wingman. If Abigail tries to talk to me, you just sweep in there and you—"

"Joey," Neo says, glancing at him over his shoulder. Joey's eyes are on the road, yellow streetlights reflected in green irises. "Do you know what a wingman is?"

"Sure I do."

"I don't think you do. Because wingmen help you pick up chicks, not the other way around."

Joey opens his mouth, starting to protest, but he falters. "I—fine. So what does that make you? My un-wingman?"

It's so stupid Neo has no choice but to laugh. The blur of orange-white resolves itself into a bonfire, a flicker at the edge of the dark, as they pull into the gravel parking lot. "I think the technical term for it is buffer, but sure. Your un-wingman."

Joey puts the car into park, yanking the keys from the ignition. "Neo," he says, turning to face him for a moment, one eyebrow congenially lifted towards the strap of his backwards ball cap. "Thanks again."

Neo blinks, moved and frightened by the sincerity in his older cousin's voice. He punches Joey in the shoulder, then turns away kicking the passenger side door open. "Don't be weird. I haven't done anything."

"You're here," Joey says as the car doors thud shut, their voices now caught up in a gentle cacophony of other teenagers'. "That's something."

Neo rolls his eyes, facing the beach. He's struck by a familiar, strange sensation, like something fantastic is about to happen, and even if it doesn't, this night will always be immortalized within his memory anyway. The air, it seems, hums with youthful energy, the sort of recklessness he lives for.

Maybe, he thinks as Joey claps him on the shoulder, dragging him towards the sand—maybe this wasn't so bad of an idea.

The moon sits high in the sky above them, a milky white orb against a pepper of stars, reflected in the sea like a trembling black mirror. For a while, Neo is not sure where to look, let alone go. A crowd of kids sit around the bonfire, wrapped in each other's arms and each other's jackets, cans of beer sweating in their hands. Others sit by the rocks, tossing their heads back in laughter, girls with long, slim legs and boys with pretty smiles. The latest radio hits blare through a portable speaker, the air laced with the earthy scent of weed.

Joey leads Neo towards the fire, and Neo loiters awkwardly by the cooler while Joey greets his basketball friends, all swift, practiced handshakes, flashing a smile so bright it makes his eyes disappear. Peals of laughter surround Neo, and he just sighs, wading through the piles of ice until he recovers a can of beer. One isn't enough to wreck him, he thinks, and it's not like he's doing any driving.

Neo's barely got the can open before Joey grabs him, dragging him towards the throng of his friends. Joey gives the usual introduction: "This is my cousin, the one I said was staying with me for the summer? His name's Neo."

The results are mixed, too: "Neo. Sounds cool as hell. Nice to meet you!" or "Neo? You from The Matrix, or something?"

None of Joey's friends are particularly memorable; Neo forgets their names minutes after he's told. Several minutes later, when the guys are reminiscing about a game of seven minutes in heaven that went hilariously wrong a few months back and the beer in Neo's hand is starting to hit him, a small, female voice interrupts the merriment: "Joey?"

Standing just behind Neo and Joey is a girl, brown-skinned and big-eyed, dark hair cut short around her chin and hands in the pockets of her denim shorts. Neo raises an eyebrow, confused, until he notices how Joey is looking at her—as if the earth itself has stopped spinning.

"Abigail!" Joey says, his voice timorous. "I didn't...I didn't know you were coming."

"I wasn't planning to," Abigail says, raking her hair behind her ear. "I was just...I don't know. I thought I might see you, so I—"

Screw Neo's dignity; he doesn't have much of it left anyway.

Dramatically, he keels over, one arm braced over his stomach, the other on Joey's shoulder. "Oh, I think I'm gonna be sick. Joey, didn't you say you had water?"

"Water?" Joey's face is fresh with confusion.

"Yeah! Back in your car. I think that might...uh...sober me up a little," Neo says, conscious of the several pairs of eyes now swiveled in his and Joey's direction. Sharply, he turns Joey towards the parking lot, and marches him off from Abigail. "Water! Yes. That'll do it."

They've barely reached the lot when Joey digs in his heels. "Neo," he hisses. "What are you doing?"

Neo double checks that the bonfire is far enough away from them before he straightens up, flicking Joey in the temple. "Saving your ass," he answers. "Is that not what you wanted me to do?"

"Well, I mean—" Joey lets out a harsh breath, tearing off his hat and pulling his fingers through his honey brown hair. His shoulders droop, defeated. "I thought that's what I wanted you to do. But then I saw her, and...Neo, you understand...it's just that I miss her and all..."

But Neo's attention has drifted elsewhere, towards a pastel punch buggy parked a couple cars away from them. A girl leans back against its hood, long curtain of inky hair swept back behind her ear, a joint smoldering in her fingers. She's short, curvy, a dress of gentle pink plaid hugging her ample form. What catches Neo's attention the most, however, is the half of a seashell around her neck: a clean, milky white.

Neo's heart has started to pound so loud he can hardly think.

It can't be.

But if it is?

"Neo?" It's Joey, waving his hand in front of Neo's face. "Hey. Earth to Neo. Are we done here? Can we go back now?"

"That girl," Neo says, dropping his voice to a whisper, barely audible under the hum of teenage voices. He leans closer to Joey. "Over there, at the punch buggy? You know who she is?"

Joey lifts his head, glancing in her direction for a brief moment before he dips it again. "That's Elsie," he says, and Neo can't tell if the hesitation in his voice is from confusion or discomfort. "Surprised she's here, actually. She keeps to herself most of the time."

"Elsie?" Neo repeats. It can't be, he thinks. It can't be, it can't be, it can't be. "Elsie who?"

"Kawamoto," Joey says, automatically. When he notices the white shock cross Neo's face, he adds, "God, Neo, what is it? You look sick."

Neo's legs are moving before he knows much what he's doing. He hears Joey calling after him, warning him, but it's a distant sound, as if Joey's thousands of feet away. He keeps moving forward. Partly for his own selfish need for knowledge. Partly for Kit, whose dismal smile Neo would do anything to brighten.

Everything feels so far away now: the beat of the music, the roar of the fire, all subtle undertones. Neo says, "Elsie?"

She takes a drag from her joint, then looks at him with round, downturned eyes so much like Kit's that it hurts. "Yeah?"

Neo stops. He'd been so enraptured in his mission that he hadn't thought at all what to say first. "I'm...Neo. Joey's cousin."

Elsie raises an eyebrow. "Joey Irvine?"

"Um. Yeah."

Elsie makes a face Neo doesn't know the meaning for, then drops her joint to the pavement, leaning back further against the car's hood. "Okay, Joey's cousin. What can I do for you?"

"I need..." Goddamit, Neo. Just say it. "I need to ask you something."

A sea salt-scented breeze blows by, tossing Elsie's hair away from her face. The seashell necklace winks again, taunting him. "If you want my number, you're going to have to work a lot harder than that."

Neo shakes his head. "No! That's not it. It's—about Kit."

The name hangs between them like a bitter miasma.

As Neo watches in horror, Elsie's face crumples into rage. "Who are you? What the hell do you know about my brother?"

My brother, Neo thinks. So it's true.

"He misses you," Neo stammers. "He misses you a lot and he's...he's really sad without you. I could take you to him, you know. He'd love to see you."

Elsie doesn't interrupt. She sits there as Neo speaks, her arms folded across her chest, a deadly upward quirk to her eyebrow. Neo expects surprise, the pleasant sort, to cross her face, so when her glossy pink lips curl back in a snarl, he doesn't know what to do.

"Fuck you," she snaps. "You think it's funny? You think it's funny to taunt me like this? Who sent you over here, anyway? Joey? One of his goons?"

Neo takes a startled step back. "No, I—"

"Fuck off!" Elsie shoves him with such force that he nearly loses his balance. "My brother's been dead for eight years. You, me, the whole word knows it. So leave me the fuck alone."

The car door slams shut, the engine revs, the tires squeal.

Neo barely hears it. When he sinks down to the ground, gravel gritting against his knees, he barely feels it.

The words echo again and again in his ears.

"Neo?"

Joey's voice, probably.

A low rumble of thunder echoes overhead, and soon the fire is out, the pavement black with rain.