Trix digs her surfboard into the sand and wrings the saltwater from her hair, as a vaguely familiar voice addresses her. She looks up to see Casey approaching, reminding her of the day before last. It already feels like an age ago.

"You're keen!" Casey remarks. "It's not even eight AM yet. Someone's feeling better!"

"Yeah, so where were you, Lazy Bones? I would've relished a repeat of last time."

"Well, how about now?" Casey suggests, "Come on, give me a chance to get you back, it's only fair – or is that what you're scared of?"

"Game on, Braxton," she declares, grabbing her surfboard, and races toward the water, Casey a step behind.

Later on, they are enjoying breakfast outside the Diner, when Heath rocks up.

"Oi, Case – Oh, g'day, Trix. Whatcha doin' with this boofhead?"

Heath clouts the back of Casey's head, playfully, and he grimaces.

"Shouldn't you be at the gym, Heath?" questions Casey, slightly irritated.

"Nah, me shift's not 'til this arvo. I was just gonna ask you the same thing, but since you're doin' nothin', how about you kids come for a surf with me? Hey, Trix, if you're lucky, I'll maybe even teach ya a thing or two."

"Way ahead of you, Heathcliff," Trix says, holding up a tangle of her damp seaweed-like hair.

"She's pretty good – for a girl," Casey admits, which earns him a kick under the table.

"Ow! Sorry, bro, looks like you're gonna have to play on your own today," Casey teases, earning him another slap to the back of the skull.

"Hey, watch it! I'm delicate!" He protests, laughing at the same time. "My shift's in ten minutes, anyway, Heath."

"Heath, love, here's your roll."

Irene appears behind him, presenting the breakfast item of choice – to Trix's distaste.

"Egg and bacon?" Trix asks, weakly, although she already knows the answer, as she flees to the toilets.

The smell had been making her gag since they arrived, even though she persuaded Casey that they should sit outside, who had been kind enough to keep her company. As much as she hated charity, she had to admit, she needed a friend even more.

Trix finishes retching and attempts to stand, when hands help her to her feet. She jerks away, her elbow hitting the cubicle door, and swears, loudly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," Ricky assures, taking a step back, both hands in the air. The girl wipes her mouth with a sleeve, self-consciously, bracing a forearm against one of the cubicle walls.

"I did ask if you were okay but, you couldn't hear me over the... the noise," Ricky utters the last word more softly, fearing it will set her off again. This is a new top.

"Oh," is all the girl says, looking pale, with a faint tinge of green to her freckled complexion.

"I would say heavy night but, considering your age, I hope not," Ricky observes, in an attempt to lighten the mood, but her concern is evident in her furrowed brow.

"Well, you know what teenagers are like," the girl answers, driving herself towards the sinks at speed. Ricky follows, arms outstretched, prepared to catch her if necessary, like a mother watching her child take its first steps.

"Hey, it's not a race," Ricky says, as reassuringly as she can.

"Isn't it?" the girl quips.

She grips the edge of the sink so tightly, her knuckles look as though they might pierce the skin. Ricky turns the tap and the girl gratefully splashes her own face with water.

"Are things tough at home, or...?" Ricky inquires.

"Understatement of the century."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't help you with that, but I can walk you home – or drive? Where do you live? I'm Ricky, by the way."

"What is it with this town?" The girl wonders to herself, out loud. Ricky laughs.

"It's just a small town, that's the way they work," Ricky offers by way of explanation. "We like to look out for each other, hoping the other person will do the same for us when we need help."

"Do you think you'll be needing help anytime soon?"

"That's not why I'm doing this."

"No, it's because you care, right? About someone you don't even know – but, let me guess, you see yourself in me, don't you? Well, if you knew me, you wouldn't want to help me, not one little bit."

"How about I get to know you and judge for myself?"

"Excuse me."

She heads for the door.

"Well, how about we start with names? You know mine, now tell me yours."

She swings the door open.

"I don't need help."

"Of course you do, kid, just look at you–"

Ricky reaches out to try again.

"–Wait, just tell me your name."

"Taylor."

The door closes behind her.