Surf pounded softly at her ankles and the sun beat warmly against her back, but it did nothing to improve her mood. Hot sand squished between her toes and left deep footprints behind her in the sand. She stared intently at the boardwalk a little bit in front of her and hoisted her surfboard up a little so she'd have a better grip. For a whole day surfing in Oahu she was none the happier; her face was shadowed and her eyes looked to the ground, studying the various sandcastles and beach towels.

"'Leu!"

She heard her name and swung around to see who had called; bleached, white-blonde hair flipped out behind her in a wet and sloppy ponytail. She noticed one of her friends, Kei, still in the water and waving.

"'Leu! Come back in! Where ya goin'?"

She raised a hand to block the sun out of her eyes and smiled. She'd already been out surfing all day and she knew her brother wouldn't be happy. She waved back to him and, regretfully, told him she couldn't stay.

"Sorry, Kei! Kekipi's got work today, you know he's going to blow it already!"

Kei nodded and dove into the surf again, his carefree laugh disappearing among the chatter of the other beachgoers. Eleu's smile melted into her subconscious grimace, something she didn't even know she did. She watched as he swam off to join his other friends and then turned back and hurried up the rough wooden slabs that served as stairs to their little beach complex, Pauo'le, meaning Never Ending.

And it was true. Shack-like little shanties scattered the boardwalk, and her home was one among the many. But, home it was, and she set off, wet, dripping and barefoot across the endless black cement, her feet tingling slightly. It wasn't something she wasn't used to.

When she got to 4807a and b, her own modest, not half bad apartment building she stumbled up the outdoor concrete stairs and onto the small porch like platform on the second story, setting her sun dried surfboard on the rack made cleverly out of driftwood. She pushed a few wet, cropped bangs out of her eyes and shoved her key into the lock. It got stuck and she cursed, angrily slamming her weight against the door so that it'd open.

Through the blinds she saw Kekipi, the youngest and most easygoing of her two older brothers. He thumped down from the attic -- their second floor, as the one below was rented to someone else -- and opened the door with a small click.

"Whoa! Don't have a field day, I got you!"

He ruffled the hair on the top of her head and pulled her ponytail. "I got to go to work at that piece'o'hell drive-in. Ku'uaki's got somewhere to go to, so watch out for yourself while we're gone, okay?"

She nodded and waved him off, halfway inside the door. But he stopped halfway down the steps, only the top half of his body still in sight. "Oh, and watch out for Ku'uaki, okay? He's a little grumpy." She groaned and slammed her head against the doorframe.

"Still.?"

".But don't be too hard on yourself, you know he wouldn't KILL you, just injure you badly. Don't get on his nerves again, whatever you do. You know he's been real touchy lately." "Yeah, okay. Bye, love you."

She sighed and waved him out of sight again. Then, readjusting her brightly colored bikini, she walked inside, her eyes immediately having to adjust to the dark apartment. It was modest, sure, but it suited them all fine. Looking around for Ku'uaki, she ignored the spilled food, blankets folded sloppily on the couch, the broken shade on one of the windows. Even with three other guys, it was hers.

The third guy was, of course, her dad, Michael Donahue. He was a true, continental American, he'd grown up in New York with rich parents. But what had he run away for? A sloppy beach shack, three less than sophisticated kids? A drippy faucet? She knew the answer, and she told herself over and over that he still stayed for it. Her mother.

'Even though she's dead', she told herself as she looked around warily. There wasn't much to hide in, so she didn't know why her dad tried. She wiped her wet hands on her butt, rolling her nylon Nike shorts back down to cover her tan legs because she knew her brother would want her to. Unlike her father, he cared if she turned out to be something or not.

Her father, of course, was asleep on the sofa, clutching the beer bottle to his chest, as if it were the Bible of his life. And truly, it was. A stray shaft of sunlight came shining thorough the broken blinds, momentarily highlighting his rough, emotionally worn face, making him look 20 years wiser than the old drunkard he was. Her dad had never really been there. But she knew some day he'd wake up. Someday.

He'd come for her mother and he'd stayed for the beer. And the waves. Not the children.

Like many in Hawaii, she was not really Hawaiian, just the offspring of a tourist raptured by the local scenery. And now that the scenery for her father was the TV and the label on a beer bottle, there wasn't much left for any of them.

Despite it all, she'd made friends, taken up surfing, gotten a tan. Her life was finally beginning to make sense. Kekipi had gotten a job, so had Ku'uaki. There was income again. She did well in school -- most of the time -- and she was fairly happy. A promising surfer and a smart kid, alone in Oahu. What else in the world could matter? But she was so wrong.

"Ku'uaki?"

Emerging into their attic -- which was not much like an attic, actually -- she looked around her and her brothers' large bedroom for Ku'uaki. It was square, with beaten hardwood floors and a low ceiling sloped steeply towards the center. There was a small, dingy window on each of the four walls; pointing to all the directions of the compass. They were the kind right against the floor, where the walls were still vertical. Most attics in the complex weren't this nice, but they'd been fixing it up over time. Sure, there were air conditioning units in the corner, and part of it wasn't even floored, but it was still bright - though in a dim way -- and scattered with their teenage belongings.

"Ku'uaki? You there?"

He was there. He cast a look out the door of the small room they'd built, roughly the size and shape of a dressing room in a department store. Disgruntled, he was studying his appearance in the dingy, cracked mirror, tightening his tie and staring at himself. It was the mirror they'd found at the curb the day of the neighborhood's trash pickup. You could always find cool things then, among the stuff that nobody wanted anymore.

Ku'uaki was obviously not happy with the way he looked, for after staring in shame at his reflection, his hands dropped from the sharply done tie.

"Hey bud, you look good. Where you goin'?"

"None of your business, 'Leu." His reply echoed strangely and sharply from the inside of the bathroom. She almost thought she could hear his voice waver slightly, almost as if he were worried. But why would he be worried?

Her eyes narrowed with curiosity. "Why, what's happened?"

"You should've been home earlier. You have to look after Dad." She looked down at her feet. "I know, I know, but he won't die if we're not here."

She watched as Ku'uaki ran his hands under the weak water flow coming from the sink faucet. Then, the flow of water was abruptly stopped, and he snatched a paper towel from the roll on the shower rack. Drying his hands, he came out of the bathroom, his eyes red rimmed with worry and agitation.

"'Leu, I know this is hard for you to understand, not having lost someone you've deeply loved, at least not in the same way Dad did. But it's really hard for him. Sometimes he'd just rather be hung over than awake. And if he were to wake up without anyone here to shake him out of his misery. I don't know what would happen. But I don't want to find out."

Eleu nodded. "Sure. I guess I know what you mean. But I feel like we're. how to say this. babysitting him. Like we're trying to avoid the unavoidable. Maybe we should wake him up and let him do what he wants to do. Let him learn to be a father again."

Ku'uaki sighed and sat down on Kekipi's trunk. He shredded the paper towel, trying to think of a way to respond. "He can never really be a father again, 'Leu, not in the way you want him to be. We've gotten along so far, we'll just have to keep on going."

"But you're doing so much for us, Ku'uaki! Can you handle this? You've got a life, too, you don't have to sacrifice it for us."

"If it's the only way to help, then that is all I am going to do." The trunk groaned as he stood. "I have to go to the rent office and talk to Mr. Elough about some things. I'll probably be back by dinner."