Lost & Found
by Jae

~..~

It doesn't matter 'bout the car I drive or the ice around my neck

~..~

It wasn't the one he really wanted.

That one cost a lot more money and was platinum and had big diamonds and he was going to have it, one day, when he really made it, and that was one of the ways he'd tell. He couldn't afford it now. He did have some money, though. It was his, his mother said, money he earned, and she wouldn't use it for food or clothes or anything, even food or clothes just for him, because that was her responsibility. So the money was his, but it wasn't his like he could take out what he wanted and go and buy whatever. It was his like it was in an account with his name on it that he could only take money out of if his mom or dad signed for it and whenever he wanted something, they had to have a discussion which always ended up with them deciding that he had to wait for his birthday or Christmas. Which was kind of like the money not being his at all, if you asked him, but no one ever did.

It wasn't the one Justin really wanted, but he saw it, and he wanted it. Wanted wasn't the right word exactly, because this wasn't like wanting Air Jordans or a new bike, both of which he did want, a lot. But this was something more, and wanted wasn't really the right word, but he didn't know what the right one would be. But this would - he knew it would mean something, and he didn't care if that sounded stupid to anyone else, it made sense to him. And he didn't want to wait for his birthday, didn't want anyone else to buy it for him as a gift. He wanted to buy it himself, for himself, with his own money that he made himself. That was the only way it would mean something.

He asked his mom, even though he didn't hold out much hope. And at first she didn't really listen, just said the same things she always did about how the money was for college, how it wasn't for him to play with and fritter away. How it was for his future. But that was the thing, and he tried to explain it to her. Everything was for his future, everything he had and everything he did, like the singing lessons, which he loved, but they were an investment, they would pay for themselves in the long run. That was what people always told him. He knew this wasn't an investment, not that way. This wouldn't pay for itself. But the voice coach and the acting lessons and the audition clothes, those were like preparing for a future that everyone told him he'd have if he worked hard enough, wanted it badly enough. This, though, would be something different. Buying this wasn't preparing for something that would happen, probably, sometime in the future. It was like saying that something was happening. Now. It was like believing in it.

Justin felt a little funny saying that, like maybe he was shallow or like he loved things, stuff, too much. He was pretty sure that Jesus and Gandhi and all those people who were really good didn't need a necklace to help them believe in things. Even a really nice necklace. But it just seemed like his whole life he'd been working for things and waiting for things and wanting things, and sometimes it was hard for him to remember that those things were coming, that he wouldn't always be working and waiting and wanting. He'd had MMC, sure, and that had seemed like a huge deal, that had seemed like forever until it ended and then it hadn't seemed like forever at all. Sometimes when he thought about it now it seemed kind of like a false start instead of like the first step that he knew it was, that his mom, that everybody told him it was. It was hard for him to remember sometimes, to believe, when he was in the middle of working and waiting and wanting, when it felt like there was nothing but working and waiting and wanting and wouldn't ever be anything else. This would be something he could touch and when he did, he'd know he'd had something once and was going to have more but he still had something now. Even if it wasn't the one he really wanted, it would be something to hold on to.

And even if it wasn't the one he really wanted, he still wanted it.

His mother just looked at him for a while after he told her, and he thought that he probably hadn't made much sense and she wouldn't get it anyway and there was no way she'd let him buy it. But then she said, slowly, "This isn't going to happen every day, mind. This isn't going to become a habit," and he'd caught his breath and nodded and nodded and he hadn't realized how much he truly wanted it until it looked like he might be getting it.

"This is a one time only thing," his mother said, and Justin wanted to throw his arms around her and hug her hard, but that seemed too babyish, too not serious for the situation. He was taking it seriously and he wanted her to know he was, wanted her to know she was right to let him. So he just said, carefully, nodding again, "Right. Right. Just this one time."

"I'll have to talk to your father," she said, and even though usually when she said that it mean no way, not in this lifetime, this time he knew it meant yes. So he just nodded again, and then went up to his room and lay down on his bed and grinned and grinned at the ceiling.

He was right - it did mean yes. On Saturday morning his mother took him to the bank and made him fill out the little slip and go up to the window himself. Justin was the youngest person in the bank except for a couple of babies there with their moms. He was the youngest person making a transaction, and he bet that he was taking out the most money of anybody there. Everyone else there looked a little tired, a little worn down. Somehow their money seemed grimy and dingy, used and re-used tens and twenties, but the bills he got were crisp and new. He counted out the money the teller gave him twice, even though there were people in line behind him, and then put it back into the little paper envelope she'd given him. He could tell that his mother wanted to count it herself, but she didn't ask and he folded the envelope carefully and put it in his pocket and kept his hand clasped over it all the way to the mall.

His mom told him to go in, that she'd pick him up outside Macy's. It wasn't their usual mall, the one she took him to when he needed socks and where he went to the movies with his friends. This was a newer one, a nicer one that they only went to when his mom was buying a gift for her mom or when he needed a shirt for a really big audition. His mom always returned those shirts if he didn't get the part, which usually made him kind of embarrassed to walk by the store. But today Justin held his head high.

The money in his pocket weighed on him and he looked around kind of suspiciously, although the worst thing he'd ever seen happen in this mall was when one of the bigger kids who hung out there pushed another kid into the fountain, and the security guards broke that up right away. The jewelry store wasn't far from where he came in, but even though he walked faster than usual and didn't stop to window shop, it took forever to get there. He thought it looked weird to keep his hand tucked over his pocket, so he let his arms drop to his sides and his fists bounce against his thighs as he walked. He couldn't help checking every thirty seconds or so, just to make sure the money was still there. It was.

Finally he made it to the jewelry store. When he walked through the door, he saw that they'd changed the displays on the counters and he suddenly worried that the necklace was gone, that someone else had bought it. He'd never thought of that before. He'd worried that he wouldn't be allowed to buy it, but it had never occurred to him that someone else might beat him to it. He sighed in relief when he caught sight of it behind the counter. He put one hand over it, on top of the glass, and the other hand in his pocket, on top of his money.

There were two clerks in the store. One was hovering over two girls, seniors probably, who were looking at a bunch of silver bracelets. The other was doing something in the back. She had looked up when he walked in but then went back to whatever it was she was doing. He waited patiently, rocking on his heels a little. Finally the lady finished and walked over to him slowly.

"Can I help you, honey?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I want that," and he pointed.

He felt her look him over, taking in his baggy jeans, his faded T-shirt, the baseball cap he'd thrown on because he hadn't wanted to waste time screwing around with his hair that morning. "That's one of our best pieces," she said. "I think it might be a little out of your price range."

"Please," he said, "can I see it?"

She took it out of the case, holding it so that it caught the light. He put his hand out for it. He had never held it before. He hadn't wanted to hold it unless he could take it home with him. He closed his hand over it briefly, then put it on, reaching up behind his neck to fasten the clasp. "I can help you with that," the lady said, but he wanted to do it himself.

"I want it," Justin said.

When he counted out the money the lady said, "That's a lot of money for a boy your age. Did you have a birthday?"

"No," he said, the chain a thin new weight over his collarbone and his throat. "No, I earned it."

"Good for you," she said, and smiled at him before she wrote out the receipt.

His mother smiled at him too when he got in the car. "It's beautiful," she said, and reached out and lifted the pendant to look at it. When she let go of it, it fell with a soft thud against his chest. It felt like it belonged there. Justin closed his hand around it. His mom reached out and tucked a curl back under his hat. "Beautiful," she said again.

It was. It was gold, real gold, the chain and the pendant both, and it had diamonds, small diamonds, and not a lot of them, but they were there. The pendant was a music note. It wasn't very big, about as long as his thumb, but it shone and shone against his old T-shirt. It was beautiful, and it was his, all his, he had bought it himself with money he'd earned himself. It was his past, because that was how he earned the money to buy it, and even his future, because one day he'd have more, much more, but mostly it was now, because now he had this, and any time he forgot what he was working for, doubted he'd get what he was waiting for, felt weary of what he wanted, all he had to do was reach up and touch it and he would remember. He would believe. It was a lot to put on a necklace, maybe, but it was a really nice necklace.

Which was why it was so awful when he lost it.

They were still in the record company offices when he realized it was gone. He put his hand up to his chest and closed it over nothing, and the first thing he did without even thinking about it was call for his mom. There must have been something in his voice, because she came running over right away and all the guys followed.

"Are you sure you wore it today?" That was the first thing she asked, and it was stupid, stupid, because he wore it every single day. He never took it off except once in a while for something special. He lent it to Lance one day, for luck, when he wanted to ask some girl out. She'd said no, but Justin didn't take it personally. Lance didn't look too upset about it. He'd offered it to Joey, too, but Joey had laughed and said that it wouldn't be fair to add good luck on top of the Fatone charm. JC already had a necklace for luck, of course, and he'd never offered it to Chris. Chris didn't need it. Chris was confident without any help, and he always walked up to whoever he wanted and asked for whatever he wanted and if they said no, he'd just walk back and shrug and say, "Her loss." And not in a kind of bitter way like JC did sometimes, but like it was just the truth. Which it was. Anybody who didn't want to know Chris, it was their loss.

That was part of why he didn't offer it to Chris, but only part. Secretly Justin kind of liked the idea of Chris wearing it, just for a day, just once in a while, seeing it glint and catch the light against Chris' collarbone the way he'd seen it so many times against his own. But somehow Justin didn't think Chris would understand the necklace. Chris thought that you should believe in yourself, that you should be strong and proud and know that if you hung in there, you'd get what you wanted. Chris might not understand needing something to remind you, something to hold onto. Chris never seemed to need anything to hold onto.

Justin did, though, and that was another reason why his mom's question was stupid, because even if he hadn't worn it every day, of course he would have worn it today. They had done a showcase that morning and he hated them. They were called showcases, but they weren't like the showcases he was used to doing, the kind he liked to do, where there were a lot of people watching and even if they didn't know him in the beginning by the end they were smiling back at him and standing up and clapping and even screaming if they were girls, which they usually were. This was an industry showcase, a private industry showcase, and that meant a conference room in an office building where the table had been pushed back against the wall so they'd have room to dance, and a bunch of people, mostly men, sitting around in suits. It was really important, everyone told him that and he knew, but it was really hard, because it wasn't really like performing, at least not like performing should be. There was no one there for him to grab on to, no one he could watch and see when they got it, when they got him. There was no one there for him to smile at, just a lot of people to smile for. Most of the people were only half paying attention anyway while they shuffled papers and talked on the phone and wandered in and out of the room. And the few people that did pay attention paid a little too much attention. They always made him want to break the choreography and look around to make sure his mom was still standing in the corner.

Everyone got nervous at the showcases, the private ones, even his mom, even Lou, even Chris. Everyone smiled a little too hard and talked a little too loudly, except for Lance, who stopped talking altogether and just kind of melted into Joey's side. Justin wished sometimes that he could do that too, just disappear behind Chris or JC, but he never could. He grinned until his mouth hurt and said, "Yes, sir," and "No, ma'am," and let Lou steer him around the room and shook hands and let people put their hands on his shoulder and his arm and didn't look away from them to make sure his mom was still there. He would reach up and close his hand around his necklace instead, just to remind himself.

"Where was the last place you remember having it?" JC asked. Justin had still had it right after they sang, he remembered touching it, and when they got changed too. They undressed in another conference room, and Joey had thrown his jacket over the window in the door. "They don't get this kind of show unless they pay for it," he'd said.

"Oh, you know they've got video cameras in here," Chris had said, and Lance had made a noise, kind of a squeak, before JC said, "He's just kidding." Chris had laughed, and Justin had laughed too, hard enough that he'd gotten tangled up in his shirt, and he'd had to untangle himself and his necklace too. He'd still had it then.

They headed back to the room where they'd changed, all of them, and looked through it, but they didn't find anything. Joey took JC and Lance to check the hallway to the lobby, and Chris got down on his hands and knees and went over the whole room again. Justin's mom made him take off his shirt and shake it out carefully, then check his pockets and his bag, even though he swore he hadn't taken the necklace off.

Nobody found it.

"Come on," Chris said, and grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the office where they'd done the showcase. There were still people in there, Lou was still in there, and they weren't supposed to go in. Lou would be pissed, and besides, Justin knew he'd had it when they left. "Look pitiful," Chris said before he knocked. "Yeah, like that," Chris whispered, although Justin hadn't even tried yet.

Chris explained and one of the men said, "Sure, come on in and take a look around," and everybody moved back in their chairs and glanced around and another man asked Justin to tell them what it looked like. Everybody was really nice about it, everybody but Lou, and Chris and Justin searched all over the room and even under the table, but they didn't find it, of course, because Justin remembered having it after he left the room, but still, he had kind of hoped. But of course they didn't find it.

One of the men made everybody at the table empty out their pockets, which was a joke, and Justin tried to smile but he didn't think he did such a great job because Lou frowned at him. Everybody else looked really sorry for him, though, when he left, so he didn't think he ruined anything.

Chris led him back to the lobby. JC had made everybody open up their bags and check them just in case it had fallen in one of them while they were changing, but it hadn't. They looked all over the lobby, and the receptionist came out from behind her desk and helped them, still wearing her headset. Justin pretended he was checking behind the couch cushions really carefully, but he really just wanted the chance to hide his face and breathe and tell himself, it's lost, it's gone, over and over until he got used to it, so when somebody, his mom or Chris or JC, had to tell him he'd be able to look okay, he'd be able to take it.

"The trash cans!" the receptionist said, and Justin looked up. She took off with Joey to check the room where they emptied out the trash cans, and Justin put his head back down and thought, it's lost, it's gone, no one's going to find it, but it didn't help.

Joey and the receptionist came back empty-handed, and Justin had known they would but he still made a little disappointed noise when Joey said, "Sorry, kiddo." Everybody kept looking, but he knew they knew it was lost, it was gone. Nobody wanted to be the first to stop looking, though. Nobody wanted to be the one who had to tell him. He checked behind the couch cushions again, really carefully.

Finally Lou found them and said they had to leave, and everybody stopped what they were doing and looked everywhere except at Justin. He sat up and then stood up and took a deep breath. "It's lost," he said, "it's gone," and still nobody looked at him or moved. "It's okay," he said, and he didn't know if anybody looked at him because he looked at the floor.

"We've got to get moving," Lou said, and everybody started to. The receptionist wrote down his name and address and phone number, at the hotel and at home, and promised she'd call if anybody found it. She said she bet that it'd turn up, and that people at the company were really honest, and called him sweetie. She was really nice, so he said thank you and smiled at her, but he thought from the look on her face that maybe he hadn't done such a great job of that either.

Lou hustled them all downstairs and wanted to make them take the subway, but Chris and JC huddled with his mom and then all three of them demanded a cab and Lou must have known they wouldn't give in because he waved one over and put them in it. Justin kind of wished they'd taken the subway, because that would have been loud and big and distracting and maybe he would have gotten separated a little from the others, he might have had to stand by himself near a window with only strangers around him for the whole ride. But at least he got to sit next to the window in the cab, with his mother between him and the other guys, and it wasn't big but it was loud and distracting, at least a little, because Lance had to sit on Joey's lap in the front seat and the cab driver swore. Then the cab pulled out and no one talked and it wasn't loud and distracting anymore, and he leaned his head against the window and he only jumped a little when his mom put her hand on his leg.

At the hotel he was sharing a room with his mom, of course, of course, and it wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't been because all the guys followed him up and then stood around awkwardly while he sat on the bed and his mom unpacked their stuff, touching his shoulder or his hair every time she passed him. He wished somebody would ask him how he could be so careless, why he hadn't paid attention to what he was doing, because then at least he could get mad and yell. But everyone was being really nice to him. Finally his mom said, "Maybe you should leave us alone now," and "It'll look a little brighter in the morning," and "Y'all are very sweet boys." Then she shut the door.

She turned and looked at him and said, "Oh, honey," and he got up and grabbed his pajamas and put them on, even though it wasn't even six o'clock. He curled up in the bed and shoved his head into the pillow. She sat down next to him and put her hand on his back, and he curled up tighter and her hand fell off onto the mattress. "I know it seems like the end of the world now," she said, and he shook his head hard without lifting it up, because that wasn't how it felt, he wasn't a baby, he knew it wasn't the end of the world. It felt like the end of something, though.

His mom sighed and got up and after a while he heard the shower running in the bathroom. He stayed curled up on the bed. He knew he wasn't going to fall asleep, maybe not all night, but he couldn't think of anything else to do.

There was a knock on the door. The shower was still going, so his mom probably didn't even hear it. He tried to ignore it, but it came again and again and so he got up and opened the door.

"Oh," Lance said, looking at his pajamas. "You're not - you don't want to go out? Because we thought maybe we would go now," and Justin had forgotten until now, but that was just one more awful thing in an awful day. Because Joey had friends in the city and they were going to meet them and go to real New York places and he had promised to only go places that Justin and Lance could go, and now Justin didn't want to go at all.

"No," he said nastily, "no, I don't want to go out right now," and Lance looked at him and swallowed and said, "Oh, okay then. I just - okay," and Justin felt really bad, because Lance sometimes still felt like he was still the new kid, like they were all better friends with each other than with him, he had told Justin that once and Justin had promised not to tell even though they all knew Lance felt that way sometimes. So Justin said in his regular voice, "I just want to go to bed. I'm kind of tired."

"Are you sure - do you want me to stay here with you? Or I could ask Chris, or we all could," and Justin felt even worse, because Lance was always so nice.

"No, you should go, I'm just going to sleep," and Lance smiled at him and Justin had to shut the door kind of fast, but he thought Lance would probably understand.

He got back into bed and curled up again. He heard his mom get out of the shower, so he pretended to be asleep, but he could never fool her. She took a deep breath, and he could tell she was getting ready to say something, and he hoped it would be something like how could you be so stupid, how could you waste all that money, but she said, "Justin," and he could tell from the way she said it that it wasn't going to be anything like that. He ran for the bathroom and turned on the shower and got in so she could pretend he wasn't crying, it was just the sound of the water, and he could too.

He took a really long shower and then got back into bed. His mom asked him if he wanted dinner, but didn't say anything when he shook his head. She left him alone after that, but later that night when she turned on the TV she watched shows he liked and he knew she didn't. He thought he should get up and sit with her because that would make her feel better, but he thought maybe this one night it would be all right if he didn't. Tomorrow, he told himself, tomorrow he would make her feel better, he would make himself feel better, but not tonight. Tomorrow he'd feel better. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, because he really wanted to feel better soon and the sooner he went to sleep, the sooner it would be tomorrow.

Justin woke up in the middle of the night cold and hungry and he didn't know where he was. He reached for his necklace and his hand closed on nothing and he remembered.

When he woke up again, it was tomorrow but he didn't feel better. Still, he remembered his promise and decided to make himself. He ate the breakfast his mom had ordered, even though they didn't have any good cereal, and he didn't feel better but he smiled anyway. He got dressed because they had to meet Lou early for some thing, some kind of showcase type thing where they didn't sing and dance but just smiled and smiled. He hated that worse than the private industry showcases, but he didn't let himself think about that because he was making himself feel better.

There was a knock on the door and his mom let Chris in. "Can Justin come out to play?" Chris said, grinning at Justin, and Justin grinned back because he was making himself feel better.

"Is it time already?" his mom said. "Is Lou here?"

"No," Chris said, "no, that's been cancelled."

"Cancelled?"

"Cancelled," Chris said. "JC's got food poisoning."

Justin felt really bad, because JC must be really sick. Usually they worked no matter how sick they were, because Lou said it would be letting the others down otherwise. His mom said, "Oh, no," and "That poor boy," and "What did he eat?" and "I should go see him."

Chris just grinned lazily and said again, "JC's got food poisoning," but this time he hooked his fingers and made little quote signs when he said food poisoning.

Justin felt really confused, because the only thing worse than being too sick to work was faking sick. Everybody got mad at that, not just Lou, and Chris and JC usually got the maddest.

"Y'all are sweet boys," his mom said.

"So can I borrow Justin for the day?" Chris said.

His mom nodded and she was smiling and Chris grabbed his sleeve and pulled him out to the elevators and they went downstairs and walked through the lobby.

"Where's everybody else?" he said.

"C's playing sick and Joey and Lance are playing like they're taking care of him."

"Oh," he said.

"So it's just you and me. You mind?" Chris said, but he smiled like he knew the answer and Justin smiled back and he wasn't even making himself feel better.

They walked down the street and Chris stopped at a crappy little beige Toyota and got in. "Whose car is this?" Justin said.

"I talked one of Joey's cousins into letting me borrow it. And Joey's cousins, in case you were wondering, all look pretty much exactly how you'd expect Joey's cousins to look, so if we total this piece of shit or dent it or if you even spill a soda, we're going to have to go on the lam or else I'll be sleeping with the fishes."

Chris drove like he knew where he was going. They drove for a while and Justin thought they probably left the city but he wasn't sure and the signs were kind of confusing. He didn't know where they were going and he thought about asking but he didn't really care so he didn't. He rolled his window down halfway even though it was kind of cold and put his feet up on the dashboard, kind of carefully because of Joey's scary cousin, and even though he wasn't making himself he felt a little better.

"See if you can find something," Chris said and waved toward the radio and Justin bent down and punched the buttons. The radio kind of sucked, and he kept changing the station trying to find a good song.

"Hey," Chris said, and put his hand over Justin's. "Leave that," and Justin sat back even though he didn't know the song and he wasn't sure it sounded like a good one. "I forgot that about the radio out here," Chris said, "how you can always find Springsteen. I miss that," and they listened to the song for a while. It was a pretty good one.

Chris sang along but Justin didn't know the words. "It's not that nursery mouth I came back for," Chris kind of growled and kind of yelled, and it was a really good song and when the chorus came around again Justin sang along too. "For you, for you, I came for you," because that was the only part he could figure out the words to.

"You like that song?" Chris said when it was over.

"I can't understand most of the words," he said.

"Nobody can," Chris said, and Justin laughed even though it wasn't really that funny. He was feeling a little better.

They kept driving, and Justin noticed that Chris kept looking over at him, quick sharp glances when he thought Justin wasn't looking, like Chris was checking on him, and he was feeling a little better, really he was almost feeling better, so he said, "I'm sorry that I was being kind of a baby about it," because he was sorry, and he was being kind of a baby.

He kind of hoped that maybe Chris would say, "Yeah, you big wuss," and punch him on the arm or mess his hair up and then Chris would laugh and then he'd laugh. But Chris just glanced at him again, and then looked back and watched the road and said, "Well, it's kind of rough. It was your - it was your thing," and Justin had to look out the window for a long time.

When he was done looking out the window, he caught Chris looking at him again, and he started to say, "I don't know why I'm -" and then he stopped, because that was a lie, he did know why and he bet Chris did too. His chest felt heavy with all the things he didn't want to say. "I'm being stupid," he said, because he was and he bet Chris knew that too.

"No," Chris said, "no," and he stopped and sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. "No, it's just, it's the beginning, you know?" He looked at the road while he was talking so Justin looked at him. "It's hard on all of us. Beginnings are hard. They last a really long time, and even if they don't really last a long time they feel like it, and sometimes they're exciting but mostly you're just tense because you don't know what's gonna happen next and worried because - well, worried, and strung out on hope and exhausted from working and waiting and - well, they're just hard. On everybody. But they end, eventually, they always do, that's the thing about beginnings. And then it's the middle, and that's always easier. I promise," he said.

"I know," Justin said, even though he didn't, not really, but he didn't think Chris knew that. "Beginnings are the hardest part."

"No," Chris said, "no, they're not. But they're hard."

Chris still wasn't looking at him, so Justin said, "I just wonder sometimes if maybe this isn't -" and he stopped, because usually when one of them said something like that or even came close the others all stopped him. But Chris didn't look over at him, didn't even flinch, so Justin said, "If maybe this isn't the beginning. If maybe it's the middle," and usually here all the other guys would be talking over him, joking and laughing, voices fluttering panicked around him like heavy-winged birds. "Or not even the middle maybe, if maybe it's -" and Chris still didn't say anything, still didn't stop him so Justin stopped himself and looked out the window. He traced the edge of the door with his finger. "I just wonder," he said softly.

"No," Chris said, and his voice wasn't brittle with fear or heavy with the automatic comfort Justin's mom offered. His voice was light and high and it was Chris' and it was the same as it always had been and he said, "No, this just feels like a beginning to me, you know?"

"Yeah," Justin said, and he wasn't sure he did know but he wasn't sure he didn't, and his chest felt light with relief and something else. "Yeah," he said, and Chris looked over at him and smiled. He smiled back.

They pulled off the highway along a long winding ramp that dumped them onto a wide two-lane road. There were stoplights about every two blocks, even though they passed maybe three other cars. Wooden houses lined the road on both sides, small one-stories and two-stories with wooden stairs and balconies built around them, but they all looked strangely deserted. The sky was gray and the air smelled like the ocean.

There was a McDonald's on the side of the road, but it was empty, too, one bored-looking kid leaning on his elbows and looking at them through the dingy windows. They went through the drive-through and then ate in the parking lot. Justin opened his door to throw a fry to a battered-looking seagull who gave a surprised squawk, almost like he was saying thank you, and tottered a few steps closer. Justin threw him another fry, and then another, and then three more seagulls swooped down, and then four more, and suddenly there were more than he could count. He threw his box of fries out into the middle of the parking lot and slammed his door shut.

"Good job there," Chris said. He was laughing. Justin laughed too, even though he was pretty sure Chris was laughing at him. They watched the birds fight over the fries, squawking and clucking and pecking and smacking each other with their wings, and Justin was still laughing a little, although it was kind of horrifying too. And then the gulls finished the fries and milled around the torn-up red box for a moment, nudging it and tearing it with their beaks. Then one bird started hopping toward the car, and a few others followed, and then the rest, a freaky little army of dirty white and black birds, bobbing up and down gracelessly on their feet. Justin stopped laughing.

"Okay, I've seen this movie," Chris said. He leaned on the horn, and the birds flew up a few feet in a frantic rustle, then settled back down on the ground and headed for the car again. Chris threw his door open and jumped at the gulls, stomping his feet and waving his arms and yelling. Justin laughed until he cried, falling against the car door helplessly. The gulls scattered, circling low over the parking lot and shrieking, then took off. They faded into the sky in sharp beautiful curves of black and white.

"What're you laughing at?" Chris said when he got into the car.

"Nothing," Justin said, scrubbing his wrist against his eyes.

"Damn straight," Chris said.

They turned off onto a side road, and Justin could see the boardwalk and dunes and a tiny bit of gray sea. He kicked his feet a little against the dashboard as they drove closer. It didn't look anything like home, the sand darker and rougher-looking than he was used to, the ocean duller and choppier, but it felt familiar, just a little bit. Chris glanced over at him and smiled.

Chris pulled off into the dirt at the edge of the dead end. They walked up the weathered steps to the boardwalk and then down onto the beach. Justin started running when they hit the sand. He didn't know why, really, he just felt like running and so he did, down to where the sand was wet and packed hard and then along the shoreline, and he heard Chris running behind him and he slowed down just a little bit and Chris tackled him and threw him down onto the beach.

He lay with his head on the sand, his face turned away from Chris toward the ocean. Chris rolled off Justin but Justin didn't move, just lay where he had fallen and looked at the water. He had been laughing when Chris tackled him but he wasn't anymore. The sand was dishwater dull and the ocean and the sky were gray. He lay there and looked. He didn't want to get up.

Chris said, "Justin," and it was Chris' voice and it sounded the same as it always had but just a little different, kind of, there was maybe something in it, a note that sounded a little thicker than usual maybe, almost sympathetic, and Justin didn't know what Chris was going to say but he didn't want to hear it, didn't want to hear anything, so he sat up and took his shoes and socks off.

"What are you doing?" Chris said. He was sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest, leaning back on his hands.

"I'm gonna go in the water," Justin said.

"It's way too cold, J."

"I'm just going to wade."

"It's gonna be freezing."

"I don't care," Justin said, although he knew Chris was probably right, because Chris was always right, but he didn't care, he just wanted to and he would.

He rolled his jeans up and walked down to the water. The wet sand was chilly against his bare feet, and then a wave rolled up and washed over his toes and he swore and danced back because it was really fucking freezing, and he heard Chris laughing and he walked back down to the water with his teeth set.

It was just as cold the second time, and it didn't really get better as he stood there. He didn't really get used to it, because how could you get used to something that fucking cold, but eventually his feet got kind of numb and he just stood there with his teeth chattering and his arms wrapped around himself, staring out at the line where the gray water met the gray sky.

The wind kicked up and the waves started to slap a little at his calves, and that felt even colder for some reason, so he backed up a step or two and started walking along the beach, just at the point where the waves started running back into the ocean. There was a slick black line of rocks stretching along one edge of the beach, and he walked toward them with the waves licking at his feet, which were almost numb but not quite, so that each wave sent a sharp icy spark of pain through him.

Halfway to the rocks he thought he heard someone walking behind him and he turned around, but Chris was still sitting on the beach where Justin had left him, not even looking at Justin but staring out at the water. Justin turned around and kept walking, gritting his teeth and venturing further into the waves, until he was up to his knees and the cuffs of his jeans were wet and his lip curled and he hissed with the cold.

The rocks were wet and slick and he almost fell twice before he got a decent handhold and pulled himself up so he was kneeling on the closest one. They were tall, the rocks, and wide and rough, some parts jutting out sharply and other parts almost flat, scored with thin black lines dotted with bright green moss. Justin pushed himself up so he was standing and started walking.

The rocks were slippery and his feet were almost numb and he had to concentrate to keep his balance. In some places the rocks met and he could walk over almost easily, but in some places water pooled between them and he had to stretch and jump to get over. He slipped once but he was in the middle of the rocks and all he did was scratch his leg. He looked back over his shoulder but Chris was still sitting there, watching the water. Justin kept walking.

The rocks got slipperier as he went farther out, waves washing over his feet in icy bursts of pain, and the gaps between the rocks got larger. He had to choose his way carefully, and he had to turn back and go a different way more than once when the rocks gaped too widely for him to even think of crossing. He was out farther than he knew he should be, out farther than was safe, and he didn't look back at the shore because he knew he didn't want to know how far away he was. He could swim, but the ocean was freezing and rough and he should have turned back, but he was so close to the end and he kept going.

The last rock was small and tilted, a little lower than the rest, and he had to steady himself with one hand when he stepped down. He was standing in water now up to his ankles, and the waves that crashed against him came up to his knees and even higher once, and he had to reach back and brace himself again. He stood back up slowly, carefully, and looked out.

It wasn't quiet out there, because the waves smacked against the rocks over and over again, a loud wet sound, but it felt quiet somehow. He felt quiet. It wasn't a good kind of quiet exactly, but he wanted to feel it. He thought maybe he needed to. He had lost something, and maybe it was something nobody else would understand, maybe it was something stupid and small but it had been his and he had wanted it and he had had it and now he didn't have it anymore, and no matter what anybody else said that was a loss. That was loss.

When he looked straight ahead all he could see was gray and gray, the ocean and the sky, and a bright flicker of white every now and then where the waves foamed. The waves were choppy around him and the rock was uneven and he had to think about how he was standing to stay upright. His legs were burning and prickling with cold but he guessed he'd get used to it soon. Soon he wouldn't feel it anymore. Justin stood still and looked at the gray and the gray and thought about keeping his footing and waited to not feel anything.

He stood there a long time, but he still felt kind of quiet and really cold and he had waited a long time and Chris was waiting for him on the shore and suddenly he didn't want to wait anymore.

Justin turned his back on the gray and the gray and the quiet. He gasped, actually gasped when he saw how far he was from the shore. The rocks looked sharper and scarier than they had before, and maybe the wind had picked up or something, because the waves washed over them repeatedly, angrily, and his legs weren't quite numb but he wasn't sure they'd carry him back. He bent down carefully, one hand still clutching the rock, and put his other hand down in the water, but even before his fingers touched the surface he knew it was useless. He could swim a long way in warm calm water but he knew that in this ocean he wouldn't make it to the shore.

He started to haul himself back up, but the waves were coming a little more quickly now, and it took him two tries and he almost fell once but he made it and crouched cautiously on the rocks, trying to catch his breath and trying not to think about how far away the beach was. He caught his breath but he still huddled there. Finally he stood up slowly and started walking, because he had to. There was no other way to get back.

He walked carefully, watching the rocks below him and thinking about where he was stepping and nothing else, and the waves washed over his feet and crashed into his legs and he'd thought they couldn't get any colder, but apparently they could, and they did, but he kept walking. He had to. He kept walking, looking down at the rocks right below him and at his feet moving over them, hissing and gasping at the cold, and then the black beneath him gave way to dull beige and he leapt down into the sand.

He walked back across the beach to Chris. Chris was still sitting and leaning on his hands, but he wasn't looking out over the water anymore. He was facing the boardwalk. Justin stood in front of him, looking down at him. Chris looked up at him and smiled. "You're back," he said.

"I'm back," Justin said, and he was. He sat down next to Chris, turning away from the ocean. He wondered if Chris would say something about how far out he'd gone, how long he'd stayed, or if he would tell Chris how he'd almost fallen, how it wasn't quiet but felt quiet out there. Chris didn't say anything, though, and he didn't either, and he thought that maybe he'd brought some of the gray and the gray and the quiet back with him because he didn't want to say anything.

They sat in the sand for a while and didn't say anything, and Justin was shivering so he put his shoes and socks back on. He was still shivering, and Chris took off his jacket and handed it to him. If Chris had said anything Justin would have given it back and frozen, but Chris didn't say a word, just shrugged it off and draped it over Justin's arm, so Justin put it on and zipped it up and shoved his hands in the pockets. It was warm.

Justin didn't know who got up first but one of them did because they were on their feet and walking to the boardwalk. It was strangely deserted, the stores and restaurants shuttered with clean white boards. "Off-season," Chris said. They walked by the closed-up amusement park, the merry-go-round horses frozen in place, the bumper cars herded together in a corner of the track. A steel rail jutted out over the boardwalk, part of the roller coaster, stark and silver against the gray sky. As they walked under it, Chris jumped up and touched it lightly. Justin leapt, too, and held on for a moment, the steel slim and cool in his hand. Then he let go.

There was an ice cream shop still open and Chris bought them both cones. It was strange eating ice cream when it was so cold out, when he was so cold already. It tasted the same but just a little different, not quite as sharp as in the summer, the chill not as much of a shock in his mouth. They leaned against the railing while they ate and watched the tide come in. It rolled up right under the boardwalk and Justin stood and looked down through the gaps in the weathered boards at the gray water rushing below.

At the end of the boardwalk there was a big white building. They went toward it and Chris bumped into Justin while they walked, the same way he always did because Chris couldn't walk a straight line to save his life, and it felt the same as it always had but just a little different. Everything felt the same as it always had but just a little different. They walked into the white building and it was huge inside, and deserted, too, but music blared from speakers in the ceiling, some song that sounded familiar but whose words he didn't know, and a girl with long black hair and black eyeliner leaned against a counter and sung along in a soft tuneless voice. He drifted through the store, looking idly at posters and beach towels and swimsuits and paperbacks, all of them so brightly colored they hurt his eyes. He was getting warm so he unzipped Chris' jacket. He watched Chris walk over to the girl at the counter and say something to her, and he watched her answer. Their voices weren't loud, especially with the music playing, but Justin walked further away.

There was a display with some cheap jewelry and he looked down at it. A basket held a bunch of necklaces, rawhide cords knotted at one end with smooth polished circles of stone hanging from them, the stone as black and slick as the rocks outside. Justin untangled one from the rest and held it up, letting it dangle from his fingers and watching as the black disc swung around and around.

Chris reached out and caught the stone in his fist, stilling its progress. The cord shivered for a moment and then stilled too. "You want it?" Chris said.

Justin looked at it, thinking. He could see the tag hanging from the cord and it was only fifteen dollars, but they weren't making any money and Chris had even less than everybody else because he sent what he could to his mom, and the car was borrowed but there was gas and there was lunch and then the ice cream.

Chris let go of the necklace and let his hand drop to his side. "I know it's not like - I know it's not," he said. "I know." s Justin watched the black stone sway in smaller and smaller circles. "I want it," he said.

Chris pulled on the edge of the cord and Justin felt it slip through his fingers. Chris walked over to the counter and Justin watched as he talked to the girl again and took his wallet out.

Chris walked back over and Justin bent down a little so that Chris could slip the necklace over his head and Chris did and Justin felt a thin familiar weight, a light steady pressure tracing over his collarbone and throat the same as it always had but just a little different. Chris reached out and lifted the stone and looked at it, then closed his hand over it briefly. When he let go of it, the stone fell with a soft thud against Justin's chest. It was warm from Chris' fingers.

It felt like a beginning.