𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 10.

━  𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀.

"𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐁𝐔𝐆."

Daryl was footed at my bedroom window, pulling up the blinds, to let the sun pour through the room and lit up surroundings with a strong and capable heat. I was buried under the blankets and pillows, despite the warmth that now radiated off the walls, cast with a resplendent glow, and my eyes peeled open slowly. Daryl sent a cheeky smile, on his way out the door, leaving it wide open.

I'd never been waken up at home back in New York. My parents were never present to get me out of bed, always preoccupied doing something rather important, that I wasn't allowed to hear of. I was lacking the usual annoyance of an alarm clock to get me up, because the very one on the bedside table that Caroline had given me, wasn't useful due to the the power outage.

So, I reached for my phone beside the old digital clock, bringing it near. It turned on within seconds, letting me check the time to see that it was past noon, again. Then suddenly, as soon as the phone had lit up, it had been turned off. I felt my stomach drop when it wouldn't turn back on after multiple clicks of the finger, meaning that it was dead, for however long.

Sliding myself out of the comfortable bed covers, feet landing on the chilled hardwood ground, I cut a glance to myself in the full-length mirror beside the window. Soon before trudging along out into the hallway, and facing the kitchen.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Caroline mused, happily, as she whisked a batch of fluffy pancakes onto a plate. She was wearing a white blouse with small green flowers around the collar, and light brown cargo pants. "Did you have a good sleep?" She asked, kindly focusing on placing the food.

It felt odd to get such questions in the morning, foreign to me. A normal day back in New York would consist of waking up and walking through the silent penthouse apartment by myself, my parents either gone out somewhere or in their offices, hidden away.

I couldn't help but smile at Caroline, who gave off nothing but good energy. "Great, thank you for asking," I laughed slightly, at my formality, "Sorry for sleeping in so much. The alarm clock doesn't work," I said, while leaning my side against the cold fridge.

"Oh, that's alright," Caroline laughed and waved her hand in the air nonchalantly, "You're a teenager."

I laughed lightly in return, before pulling open the fridge door. It was nice to feel so comfortable in their home, and act like it was mine too. A hand reached in for the carton of milk, grabbing it, and bringing it out.

"I made you some pancakes," she said, while picking up the pan she'd used and placing it into the small sink. "That Anne lady said they were your favourite."

"Thank you," I smiled at how much Caroline remembered about me, from what mom's assistant had told her before my arrival. My stomach warmed up.

She picked up the plate of pancakes, and brought it over to the round table, placing it beside a small container of fruit. I reached up for the cupboard, grabbed a plastic blue one and brought it down to the countertop, closing the door with my other hand. Milk was poured into the cup, before the carton was replaced in back the fridge.

Caroline was sitting in her usual spot at the table, a thin newspaper between her hands. I walked over to the chair beside her, sliding myself onto the comfortable cushion, with my cup in hand. About three large pancakes rested on top of one another, on the white plate in front of me. I internally smiled, feeling my stomach rumble, before reaching for the fork and knife already placed beside me on the table.

"Thank you for making this," I spoke to Caroline, as I swallowed a delicious bite. "You didn't have to prepare the whole thing for me," I laughed lightly.

"I wanted it to be like home," she looked over the newspaper covering her face, smiling.

"Home?" I laughed, curious.

"You know," she placed the newspaper down, laughing along, "How it'd be at your place back in New York," she picked up a mug sitting beside her, taking a sip of something, "With your fancy servants and stuff."

"Caroline," I placed my fork down, trying to keep laughter in, "Who said I had servants," I spoke the word with an odd tone, never really using it before for myself.

"But your parents—"

"They're never really home, I make meals for myself," I told her, calmly.

"Well that explains how you made the pasta last night," she laughed out loud, her chest heaving in and out, "My gosh, I feel so stupid, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I laughed, taking another bite.

"Now I guess you can make breakfast for us, hm?" She chuckled, hitting my arm lightly.

I smiled, not wanting to laugh because of the food in my mouth. She returned to reading her newspaper, and everything went calm. As I ate, I looked out at the water from the window in front of me, watching the small waves ride up against the grass and docks. Caroline had the radio playing softly from the living room, but this time, only playing music. She was humming along with the tune.

Just when I'd finished eating, the plate completely empty, Daryl was stepping up the porch. His hands were covered in a dark grey colour, along with some of his shirt.

"That stupid truck has got to go," he complained, while letting the screen door close behind him. He walked over to the sink, turned it on with his dirtied hands, and put them under the running water.

"Keep tinkering with it and it'll break down eventually, Daryl," Caroline rolled her eyes, staring at the words on her paper.

I stood up with my plate in hand, and treaded over to the sink where he was. He moved aside and let me place it in, before continuing to wash the dirt from his fingers.

"We've gotta go down to the motel, right now, Carol," he said, using her nickname. He didn't sound alarmed, like there was something bad, but he definitely meant something by it.

"Alright," she let out a loud sigh, placing her newspaper down on the table, before standing up. "Would you like to come with, Charlotte?" She looked to me.

I was standing behind the chair that I'd previously sat in, my arms perched on it's top rim. "No, it's okay. You guys go ahead," I smiled at her, sweetly.

The sound of the running tap water stopped, and Daryl appeared in my peripheral vision, a red towel wiping his arms off. "You sure, bug?" He asked, eyebrows only softly narrowed.

"Yeah, of course," I smiled calmly at both of them, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'll stay here."

"Maybe you could take a ride into town later," Caroline suggested, while sliding on her shoes. "Take that bike for a ride. There's money in the cabinet if you wanna get food or somethin'," she looked to me with her usual kind eyes.

"Just ask anyone if you get lost, remember," Daryl placed the towel on the table beside Caroline's newspaper. "They'll tell ya how to get home." He smiled at me.

"Okay," I nodded once, smiling at both of them again.

"We'll be back in a few hours," Caroline stepped out of the house, holding the screen door open, "See ya, bug."

I watched both of them hop into the truck, which was parked in it's usual spot. The loud engine roared down the street, and I watched it until it was out of sight.

___

Once the boredom hit rock bottom, about two hours after they'd left, I figured it was time to leave the house. I'd spent the alone time reading from Caroline's boring book, organizing my closet and putting away anything with sheer, sparkles, or remotely expensive brands on it away in the empty cardboard box.

Despite my concerns and bad-luck from the last time I'd gone out, I grabbed the few dollars from the cupboard Caroline had told me about, and shoved the bills into my pocket. My white shoes were sitting beside the front door, with faint brown stains along the sides from the escapade the day before. I frowned.

Pushing open the screen door and letting it shut behind me with a small thud, I skipped over to the red bicycle leaning against a post on the porch. I walked it down the small steps, and over past the blue mailbox, before hopping on. The wheels were stiff, and I assumed it was from the dip it took in the water, the morning after the hurricane. There were leaves and sticks scattered inside the basket, my hands fumbling to remove them.

Soon enough, I was driving down a street I hadn't been on before. The water was visible at my right side, and I kept trying to glance over at it, to see the sun shining down. The small waves piled at the occasional docks I'd passed, a shiny glow casting over them from the hot sunlight. It was truly beautiful, and I couldn't help but stop at one point and gaze from the side of the road.

A week ago, I never would have thought that I'd be outside of New York City, on an island, watching the water.

I could have stayed for longer, but the street I was on had become quite busy. So, I sat back on the bicycle seat and drove in all different directions, having no perception of time or where I was, where to go, or how to get back home. But I no longer cared. My feet pedalled at a normal pace, and I drifted into neighbourhoods and out of them, drove past stores, and rode past many people still cleaning up from the hurricane.

Then, after a long while, I found myself faced with the nicer side of the island. The large beach houses were in sight over the tops of the trees, and a smile rose to meet my lips. I drove through the expensive neighbourhoods, wishing I was sitting on their balconies and staring out at the water, instead of on the side of the road. There seemed to be next-to-nothing damage done to their beautiful homes, and it seemed like their power was working just fine, causing my eyebrows to narrow.

After looking at the big houses, I found myself at an intersection, in the middle of a nicer part of town, that I'd never been in. It was a grave contrast between the opposite part of town I'd gone to, when I'd picked up Daryl's truck oil. People, who just looked rich, walked along the sidewalks and entered small boutiques and shops. There was no damage done to the small buildings by the hurricane, unless it had been cleaned up very quick.

I was standing on my feet, looking up at the traffic lights, like an idiot— to only realize, a few moments later, that they weren't working due to the power outage. Everything else in this part of town seemed to be working, except for the traffic lights, causing my eyes to roll. I didn't look both ways, due to the annoyance piling up inside of me, and I began to drive across the street.

Suddenly, a loud, ear-piercing car honk echoed throughout the street, loudly.

I looked to the side, so quickly I could've broken my own neck, to see a dark green Jeep stopped only inches away from me. So startled , I fell off the bike sideways, landing on the ground.

"Topper!" A high-pitched, feminine voice yelled out, from inside of the car.

As I laid on my side on the scorching hot concrete, I heard the rough slam of a door. My body immediately ached from the fall, flashes of pain ricocheting down my hip, and the bare side of my arm burned against the warm ground.

"I didn't hit her!" a lower voice called back, his door slamming too.

"Oh my gosh— are you okay?" The girl spoke, and I felt a small hand wrap around my arm. "Holy shit, are you okay!"

I opened my eyes, to see a teenage girl kneeling on the ground, hovering over me, her hands placing gently on my arms. A teenage boy stood over the two of us, looking down at me as well. Both of their faces held worried looks.

"I'm fine," Was all I could say, my voice coming out coarse. I strained my muscles to get up, the girl helping me.

My mind fogged with a gloomy cascade, sending my eyes wandering for something to catch. I blinked repeatedly, hoping for that in some way, it would stop my head from pounding.

"Are you sure?" The girl asked quickly, her voice frantic.

As I stood up, my mind boggling, I saw the boy reaching down for my bike. It was a bit farther from us, and he picked it up and walked it over to me.

"Do you need a drive home— we could drive you home," she was talking quickly, glancing to the boy.

I looked at her. She had big beautiful brown eyes and long eyelashes, place on a round face, with light brown hair, almost blonde, falling past her shoulders. She was wearing a light blue sundress, which already looked expensive, and two gold necklaces, one smaller with stars on it, and the other long with the letter "S" hanging. She was taller than me, and wore flat white sandals.

"No, I'm fine," I fully stood up on my feet, my head feeling heavy. The boy passed me my bike, and I forced a smile at him.

"Are you new here?" The girl asked suddenly, her voice now calmer, seeing that I could stand up. She let her hand fall from my arm, her eyebrows softly narrowed.

I didn't want to talk, my mind was racing. "Yeah," I said, almost whispering.

"I'm Sarah," she held out her hand, for a handshake. "That's Topper," she looked to the boy standing behind her.

I took it uncomfortably. "Charlotte," I told her, shaking her hand. I smiled awkwardly at the tall boy.

"Are you sure you don't need a ride home— where do you live?" She persisted, her words quick but undeniably kind. "Or do you wanna do to the hospital or—"

Just by the looks of her, I could tell that she took residence in one of those expensive beach houses, maybe with her own personal Yacht. I didn't want her and the boy to see my grandparents' house.

"Sarah," the boy groaned, trying to stay polite.

She turned her head and scowled at him, meaning for him to stop.

"No, really, it's okay," I forced another small smile to my lips, laughing awkwardly, before swinging my leg over the bike. "I've got to get home," I lied, simply wanting an excuse to leave.

"Okay," the girl smiled at me, and stepped back reluctantly, as I then began to pedal away, across the street.

My body ached, but it was bearable. I didn't cry though, as I biked away from the two teenagers that nearly killed me, having absolutely no idea where I was going.

༄

𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 !