The House Above the Sea

8.

The last time Neo saw an episode of Veggie Tales, he must have been eight years old, likely younger. Though the talking Christian vegetables had certainly entertained him then, they're a bit freakish to him now. He sits beside ten-month-old Olivia, peering at the screen, trying to figure out who thought it was a good idea to put eyes on an asparagus.

This isn't how Neo planned for this night to go, of course. When Uncle Duke and Aunt Vivian had announced they were going out with a few other couples from the neighborhood, Neo thought it'd be the perfect chance to nick the stereo from its dusty shelf in the garage and slip away to see Kit. As if she read his mind, however, Aunt Vivian had pointed at Joey and Neo both and said, "You two. Watch the baby."

So now he is here: on the couch beside Olivia, watching a cucumber and a tomato dance around and read Bible verses.

"How's work?"

It's Joey, returning from the kitchen with a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and two spoons. He hands one off to Neo, who says, "Work is good."

"God." There's a heavy thump as Joey collapses into the couch, digging in to the pint with such enthusiasm you'd think he hadn't eaten for three days."You sound like my dad."

"There are worse things to sound like."

"Yeah, but he's—him."

Neo doesn't know why he gets it, but he gets it. "Bernie, my boss, is cool," Neo tries again, taking a spoonful for himself. "She's from Sri Lanka. I have no idea where that is but it seems nice."

"Sri Lanka?" Joey says, voice slightly muffled by the ice cream in his mouth. "Isn't that the little dot below India? Like—you know, Sicily. The Sicily of India."

"Huh. Dunno. I'll have to ask her."

The googly-eyed vegetables on screen have started to sing. They do that often.

"Neo," Joey says, over Olivia's incoherent babbling—which Neo really thinks is her attempt at singing along.

It's something about the way Joey says it, like he has some sort of dire question, that makes the hairs on the back of Neo's neck stand up. Though his mind is racing far ahead of him, Neo stills himself, silently irking an eyebrow and folding another spoonful of the cold dessert onto his tongue.

Joey takes the hint. "I know you don't really know anyone here, like from the school or anything? But there's this party they're having on the beach this weekend—"

"Who's they?"

"One of the guys from the team."

Neo sighs. "You're asking me to go to this, aren't you?"

Olivia has noticed the ice cream; she turns in her brother's direction, whining at him, hands already grasping at the spoon.

Joey indulges her, resting the spoon in her mouth while she nibbles at it first with her minuscule teeth—the sharp pucker of her little face afterwards proves she noted this as a mistake—then licks at it bit by bit. "I'd rather not go alone," Joey says. "That is true."

"You won't be alone. Won't the guys from the team be there?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Oh, no," Neo says. He knows that look on Joey's face: the slight downward slope of his mouth, the two neat wrinkles of skin between his brows, the pinch of pink across his nose. He'd seen it before. The two of them were much younger then, and Neo was visiting and Joey told him he had a crush on this tourist he'd met in town. Of course it had not ended well; these things rarely do. "No, not that look. You're seriously dragging me into your lady problems? Joey."