𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 12.

━  𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐁 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 for his red cup on the ground, bringing the rim up to his lips.

We were sitting side by side on the fallen palm tree, facing the water and the setting sun. The top of my shoulder brushed against the side of his arm, as I placed my hands on the tree to hold up, and while he tilted his head back to swallow the liquid— his SnapBack hat almost falling off into the sand.

There was no one close to us. Everyone else stood and talked amongst one another, some dancing, some not, some girls wearing bathing suits and others wearing sundresses, each with a red cup in hand. The music playing was low, but still audible, over the people talking and shouting. It was not what I had expected.

"So," John B broke the silence that was about to consume us, after swallowing his sip, "What do you wanna know first," he asked, unsurprisingly casual.

I looked at him, slightly turning my body. "I have a question," I stated, my eyes softly narrowing.

He placed his cup on the space beside him, "Shoot."

"What's it like living on your own?" I asked, trying my best to stay kind. I'd been thinking about him since Caroline mentioned he lost both of his parents. But the second the words fell past my lips, I regretted saying them.

He looked down at his hands. "Straight shooter," a small laugh. "Who told you that?" He then asked, with a normal tone.

"My grandma knew your parents a while ago," I said, keeping my eyes on his side profile. "Sorry, I should've worded that better— that was rude,"

"Nah, it's okay," he let out a small laugh, genuine. "But you asked about me?" A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, while he turned his head, making eye contact.

"I wanted to know," I replied, keeping my composure, "If that's what you're implying."

"Didn't know you were such a fan of me," he smiled, cockily.

"If we keep running into each other like this, I'm gonna have to know eventually, don't you think?" I smiled back innocently at him.

"I'm not homeless," he let out another small laugh, "For starters. What else do you know about me, Cherry Cola?"

"The basics," I shrugged, annoyed at the nickname he wouldn't drop.

"And what's that?" The small smile still lay over his lips.

"Oh, you know," I hummed casually, dangling my feet back and forth. "Your family stuff."

"What'd you ask for," he laughed out loud, "My whole life report,"

I felt a smile trickle up to my lips, and I laughed too, but looked down at my feet. "My grandma likes to talk, John B. She kept going,"

"So, I'm assuming you know everything about me now," he placed his hands on the trunk beside his legs, almost touching mine, and leaned forward.

"I don't know everything about you," I corrected, putting a finger up.

"So, it's my turn to learn everything about you." he continued.

I felt my stomach tighten, not used to ever talking about myself to someone else.

"There's not much to know," I formed my lips into a tight-lined smile, shrugging my shoulders upwards. "I'm not that interesting."

"Sure you are," he nudged his shoulder with mine, causing me to slightly tilt to the side. "Where you from, again?"

"New York," I said, not making eye contact. "Born and raised," I gave him a cheeky smile, finding it funny.

"So, then what brings you to the island," he laughed too, keeping his eyes on me. "Quite the change in scenery."

"My dad was born here, I think," my fingers interlocked with one another. "And I'm spending the next year here," I told him, my voice sort of going quiet at the last part.

"Oh," he mused, sounding a bit surprised, "And why's that?"

My palms began to sweat as I thought of a response. "Work— my parents work and stuff," was all I could say, only half-lying. "They're going away for their job."

"Interesting," he popped out his bottom lip and nodded a few times, and a feeling of relief washed over me when he didn't ask what their profession was. "So you'll be spending a year here, going to school and everything?"

I nodded, a small frown on my lips.

"What's so bad about that," he laughed, looking at me as I looked to the ground. "You don't like school?" He was laughing.

"I was homeschooled," I told, sort of quietly, "back in New York."

"Homeschooled," he said to himself, as if needing clarification. "That's kinda cool,"

"Not really," I laughed, looking up to him.

"You got any friends back in New York?" he question.

"Why do you ask," I joked.

He shrugged, "I dunno, you're just easy to talk to, a girl like you must have friends, you know."

"No," I laughed to myself. "Not really."

It went quiet for a few moments.

"So, uh," he fake-coughed. "I think this is where you tell me your age. Or I'm just gonna keep assuming you're sixteen."

A smile broke out on my lips. "I am sixteen."

"That's a relief," He smiled, wiping his forehead. "Thank god I wasn't galavanting around with a thirteen year old stranger," he used the same word I'd said earlier, saying it with a weird tone to mock me jokingly.

"I don't look thirteen," My mouth fell open, and I turned my body to face him.

"Sure," He looked at me as if I were dumb.

"Just because I'm not six foot tall doesn't mean I can't be sixteen," I defended myself jokingly, referring to his height.

"If that helps you sleep at night," he shrugged, laughing at me comfortably. "So, how come I've never seen you around, you've never visited your grandparents?"

"No, not really." I told him, honestly.

"Why not?" he narrowed his brows.

"My parents just never really told me about them, I don't know why." I said, shrugging again.

"Hm," he hummed, seeming like he was done asking the family questions. "So, what else should I know about you, city girl?"

"How about we play a game," I announced, as I placed my hands on the space behind me and leant back. "Like— I'll tell you one thing about me, and then you'll tell me one thing about you."

"Okay," he dragged out the word, sort of curiously, and turned his head to me. "You go first." he nodded his chin in my direction.

"My favourite colour is yellow," I told, while dangling my feet again. "Now, you"

"I own a boat," he shrugged.

"That's not fair," I stopped, "Something I don't already know."

"What don't you know," he laughed to himself, thinking. "Um— I like to surf, a lot."

"Okay," I accepted it, nodding my head one time, "My middle name is Leslie."

"My middle name is Booker," a small grin plastered over his lips, stealing my idea.

"Booker?" My eyebrows narrowed. "Sounds like Hooker."

"That's what the 'B' stands for," he continued, ignoring what I said. "In John B."

"Interesting," I nodded again. "Uh, I've never been to the beach."

"You're at the beach right now," he turned to me with a stupid look.

"No, idiot," I rolled my eyes, "before this," I looked out at the water and the waves crashing in.

"I thought you were rich," he said, with a curious tone, "Don't rich people take vacations and shit?"

"You think I'm rich?" I responded quickly, turning to look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Pope was talking about it the other day, kinda got me on the assumption now too. That gold band around your wrist looks pretty heavy," he pointed to the bracelet I was wearing.

"I've never been outside of New York City," I said, ignoring the comment and looking away to the water.

"Really?" He exclaimed, slightly surprised. "How come?"

"Just never really had the chance to," my shoulders shrugged, lying.

"So this is your first time at the beach," he said, almost for clarification again.

"Yep," I popped out my bottom lip, nodding slowly.

"Fascinating," He said, nodding as well.

"Enough about me," I spoke calmly, "I wanna know about the island,"

"Oh, right," he sat up straighter.

"What's with all the Pogues and Figure Eight stuff," I asked, remembering what Caroline had said about Figure Eight being the rich part of the island.

I then turned my body fully to face him, as he slouched and looked forward. I stared at his side profile for a moment, at his  jawline, the tinniest of facial freckles scattered all over his skin, and at the small curls of chestnut brown hair that fell out from underneath his dirty pink hat. I didn't like to admit that he looked even better close up.

"Alright. So the Outer Banks," he started, glancing to me for only a second, our eyes clinking, "Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs, or two houses." He looked out at the water. "Two tribes, on one island."

"So now you guys are tribes?" I lowered my eyes at him.

"Figure Eight," he continued, ignoring me, "is the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks," he said it with a bit of an attitude, and with a hint of hatred.

"Pause," I put my hand up. "Explain what a Kook is, include details."

"Rich people, basically," he rolled his eyes. "You know all those pretty beach houses you can sometimes see over the treetops?" Looking to me, I thought about the ginormous houses I'd taken the time to look at. "They live in those."

"Okay," I nodded slowly, trying to understand.

"You see that girl over there," John B extended his arm out and pointed towards the distance.

I followed where he was aiming to, my eyes landed on that girl, the really pretty blonde who had approached me on the beach.

"That's Sarah Cameron," he announced, "Kook princess. Her dad owns about half the island. I work on his boat." both of us stared at the girl, as the familiar boy approached her. "That's her not-so-pleasant boyfriend, Topper. Topper actually thinks Pogues were bred to mow lawns." John B rolled his eyes.

I nodded, pretending like I didn't already know their names. "Go on," I looked back to John B, realizing that I had been right about the girl being rich. I didn't realize she was princess of the island, as he'd said it.

"And then this is the south side, or, The Cut," he referred to where we were, "home of the working class, who make a living bussing tables, washing yachts, running charters..." he rambled, and then paused, "natural habitat of the Pogues. Me and my friends."

"Define the term 'Pogue'."

"Pogues— Pogies, the throwaway fish?" He looked at me with his eyebrows narrowed. "Lowest member of the food chain?"

"Sure," I pretended to understand the reference he was making.

"Yeah, so the downside to Pogue life is that we're ignored and neglected." He used his foot to shove away pieces of sticks laying in the sand. "The upside of Pogue life, is that we're ignored and neglected." He smiled brightly, "which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want."

"Sounds fun," I hummed. My leg folded up and I placed my foot on the tree trunk, causing my arm to automatically drape over it.

"It is," he grinned, a happy look on his face.

"So, like," I spoke, trailing off slightly. "Where do I fit into all this?"

"What do you mean," his eyebrows only softly furrowed down.

"Am I a 'Pogue'?" I spoke the word weirdly, uncomfortably. "Or whatever."

"Well," he turned himself towards me, and looked down to my body, "You look like a Kook, could definitely pass as one," he tilted his head to the side, as if weighing the options. "But I'd say you're a Pogue. Since you live on the Cut and all."

"Understandable," I nodded once, and delicately pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "I just— don't wanna be called one, if that's okay."

"Sure, Cherry Cola," He smiled, his straight rows of teeth showing. I felt like telling him off again for the stupid nickname, but this time I held back. "So, tell me what the city life is like," he leaned his head back, genuinely seeming interested.

"Honestly," I laughed, looking away and out towards the water. "Very boring compared to this."

"Ah, so you like the island," he nodded slowly, in admiration.

"I lived at the top of the highest building, on the busiest street, for sixteen years," I said, beginning to pick at my shoelaces. "Never really thought I'd see something like this." I stared at the waves, "It's beautiful."

"That's why they call it Paradise On Earth," he laughed soothingly.

"I'd rather be here than the city," I added, feeling odd at how comfortable I was talking with him.

"Right now, here with me?" He laughed, his tone of voice curious.

"No," I laughed too, pushing another strand of hair behind my ear, "At the beach." I said, quietly.

"A little hurt by that, Cherry Cola." he pretended to be offended.

I laughed, looking down at my shoes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see  John B looking at me. He stared at my side profile, my eyes twinkling as I gazed at the water.

"You're pretty cool, Charlotte," he said, his voice sounding different, and using my name this time. It was much softer, and he spoke the words in a low volume. "At first I thought you were stubborn and a bit of a bitch, but you're not so bad anymore."

I looked over to him, rolling my eyes jokingly, "I've just been waiting my whole life to hear a surfer boy say that about me." I said, with a humorous tone of sarcasm.

"You're a fast thinker too," he smiled childishly. "Probably would've gotten caught by the cops if you didn't jump out that window yesterday."

"I have my moments," I shrugged my shoulders as if proud of myself. "And— thank you," I said, lowering my voice a bit, "For letting me go with you and your friends. I sort of invaded your mission, but you still let me come." I put up bunny ears with my fingers when saying 'mission'.

"Eh," he waved his hand in the air casually, "No big deal. They like you, anyways." he smiled at me, the usual, charming grin.

"So, does this mean we're cool now," I asked, shifting my pointed-finger between the two of us. "That we're not... you know, strangers anymore?"

"I guess so," he shrugged casually.

"Not strangers?"

"No, we're cool." he smiled.

"Cool." I smiled back.

The conversation slid to an end, and both of us looked out into the distance and away from one another. The sun was down, I barely even noticed, and the sky was slowly going dark, the smallest of stars starting to show their light. Multiple people still danced and talked along the beach, with their cups in hand. I grabbed the metal water bottle lying on the ground beside my foot, and twisted open the lid, taking a sip of the cold water.

After a few long moments of enjoying the wind in my hair, John B suddenly stood up. I looked up to him, seeing a slightly alarmed look over his facial features. He didn't say anything as he quickly walked away, causing my eyebrows to narrow. For a second, I stayed put and watched him head towards what looked to be Jj, standing in front of Sarah Cameron and her boyfriend.

I stood up from sitting down, grabbed the metal water bottle, and foolishly chose to follow where he had went. When I made it around a small crowd of people, I came faced with a conflict quickly brewing up. John B and Jj stood in front of Sarah and her boyfriend, talking loudly. Jj was trying to offer Sarah a red cup, but before he could give it to her, Topper had hit the cup away, causing all the liquid to spill over Jj.

John B quickly stopped what was about to turn into a fight, pulling his friend away from Topper. But when Topper screamed out something inaudible, John B had turned himself around, and charged for him. Pope came out of nowhere and held Jj back, saying, "we're supposed to be incognito", which made my eyebrows narrow. I widened my eyes at how the mood on the beach had shifted from calm to dangerous in the matter of seconds.

My hand instantly flew over my mouth when John B took a punch to the side of his face, which sent him rolling over on the ground in the water. The crowd of teenagers "ooh'd" in unison, as Topper kicked the side of John B's body. He screamed something at John B laying in the water, and then the crowd began to shout "fight!" repeatedly, hurting my eardrums. I then found myself standing along the front rim of everybody, behind Kiara and Jj, my hands beginning to shake.

I'd seen people fight on the streets of New York many times, but not in this way. These were teenagers, my age. I had just came out of a conversation with one of them, and he was now in the middle of a brawl.

The boys punched and wrestled with each other for many moments, all while the people shouted. Jj was rooting for his friend, cheering him on loudly, while Sarah ran her hands over her hair stressfully, a worried look on her face. As moments passed, the fight became more intense and I thought about running home. The boys took turns shoving one another in and out of the water, throwing punches non-stop.

I felt my stomach drop to the floor when John B was then held underwater, Topper's hand forcing his head. Sarah screamed for her boyfriend to stop, while the boy grasped for air, and his friends looked at one another with beyond-concerned looks. Jj looked like he'd had enough, and marched up to the two boys, reaching a hand in his pocket.

Then, I heard the safety click of a gun over the rushing waves.

The people began to run away in all different directions behind me, someone screaming, "He has a gun!". The spoken gun was pointed to the back of Topper's head, and the boy quickly let go of John B.

"Kie— can you check your psycho friend please!" Sarah shouted.

"We're good— okay, we're good!" Topper screamed at Jj behind him, before getting shoved to the ground.

That was all I saw before turning around and running away with the crowd of teenagers. My heart was beating faster than lighting as I ran away, my hair flying in front of my face, the water bottle still in my hand, and my feet moving frantically. Jj's voice yelled words in a blur loudly, but I couldn't hear what it was as I got pushed through the teenagers.

But, what I could hear, was a gunshot.

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