— 𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 —
𝗔𝗡 𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡
A NON-COMPREHENSIVE LIST of everything you need to know about the Outer Banks of North Carolina as told by Piper Olivia Maybank.
" The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. Basically, The Great Gatsby on steroids. The quintessential American tropes are all there: fantasy versus reality, the American Dream and the corruption thereof, greed, wealth. Figure Eight, the rich side of the island, is the home of the Kooks, the two-housers, the yacht party attendees. But, just like good ol' F. Scottie's prolific story, there are the Buchanans and the Gatsbys of the island, the old money and the new money strife — not that their little peeves and rivalries make much sense to the poor side. The Outer Banks Gatsbys are the Camerons. Ward Cameron — the patriarch of this insufferable family of five — was born on the poor side, the south side, and made his family's wealth with his bare hands. He's a realty royal now. Which pisses off the symbolic Buchanans of the Outer Banks, the Abernathys. The Abernathys are ridiculous. They own the most property of anyone in the entirety of the county. If the Camerons are realty royals, the Abernathys are marina monarchs. They probably play anti-homeless architecture Pictionary for family game night. The Abnerathys claim they are descendants from the fucking Rockefellers or something, but no one has ever proved that claim. Long story short, the Abernathys — which, I should probably mention consist of Harry and Inez as patriarch and matriarch, and two teenage girls named Edith and Willa — fucking hate the Camerons. Almost as much as the Pogues do.
" Speaking of Pogues, we're the Pogues. The poor, working-class derelicts that live on the south side of the island also known as the Cut. We make wages — you can't really call it a living considering I know some folks who should've retired at least a decade ago but are working minimum wage just to skirt the poverty line — busing tables, cleaning yachts, shining shoes, running charters. I, in particular, tutor Willa Abernathy in just about everything, and, when I'm not tutoring for a paycheck, I'm doing or cleaning something for that wretched family for a paycheck. I couldn't tell you if Willa Abernathy has a brain in her head or not, but she's the same age as JJ, my little brother, and she is mortifyingly in love with our best friend Pope Heyward. It's less than ideal, almost unfortunate, but it is what it is. Being a Pogue means there's a lot of 'it is what it is'.
" The Cut is crawling with Pogues. It's not over-populated, per se, we're just an active group of people. Everyone's always out and about swimming, surfing, fishing, working, whatever. The best thing about our side of the island, I think, is that every inch looks lived in and loved. There's new graffiti around every day, leaving you wondering who had done it; there's the popping of oil in a fryer whenever you walk through the neighborhoods and the murmurs of camaraderie between friends as they feast on fish they caught, they cleaned, and they fried; there's cars and trucks with new dents and boats in yards with fresh coats of paint.
" But, of the many Pogues, if you're gonna be following me, you only need to know five to start, to expositionalize the Outer Banks in your mind. Starting with my younger brother JJ.
" He's only a year younger, sixteen, but he's been slinging us around to his friends' houses since he met John B. Routledge in the third grade. JJ is as local as they come. If the Abernathys are an American dynasty, the Maybanks are an Outer Banks dynasty. He's got his life situated like our father — not that JJ is anything like our father in any way besides the following list — fishing, drinking, smuggling, and making a living off the water. He's a salt-lifer if I've ever seen one, and I've dated too many surfers. Mild kleptomaniac, but I try to keep him in check and safe. What else is a big sister for?
