CASTAWAY ⚓ R.C, J.M

S E V E N T E E N

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R U N   R A B B I T

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The Routledge home was Pogue free and so an odd quiet and calmness spread throughout. This morning, John B had mentioned going to meet the others on the beach to surf and left with the briefest acknowledgement to the brunette girl. She had been sat shovelling cereal into her mouth rather dejectedly. Mr Routledge could tell something had happened.

"Harls?" John slipped into the seat opposite, nudging his glasses upward. She responded with a hum and pulled her eyes away from the soggy charms in her bowl. "Has something happened between you and John B?"

"No. Why?" The lie tasted acidic on Harley's tongue.

John's thick eyebrows sewed themselves together in a crinkled line. "It's a good thing you're an awful liar. It's like reading a novel that you're holding up for me in the largest font possible... bold with illustrations." He smiled. "So much easier than Bird."

"I'm not that obvious." Harley winced knowing that was a lie. She stared into her limp bowl of cereal, her hands clasped on the back of her head. She groaned in frustration. "That's something I need to work on."

"There's absolutely no reason you shouldn't wear your heart on your sleeve." 

Harley disagreed. "I'm not so much trying to be a closed book. I mean, I'm not in love with the idea of being a walking shell grafittied in emo aesthetics and fake deep quotes. As much as that may be a vibe, it's not really me. Maybe I should just work on retaining friends... or better yet a family."

Depressing, black laced word vomit had never looked so pitiful to John, it was like staring at a half beaten puppy or half dead cat. Harley was just going through a rough patch but based on the way John stared at her, you could tell he was worried for her sanity and the clear weirdness that was her generation.

Harley peeked up at the concerned man and saw that she needed to collect herself. If you could burst a vein from thinking too hard, John would have burst several trying to unpack all of the chaos that spilled from Harley.

"I'm sorry. That was weird..."

"Not at all. I like you very much the way you are. You don't need to hide your feelings unless you want me to take out a loan for you to go through therapy?"

"No. That's not necessary."

"Is this to do with your seizures. Are John B and the others treating you differently?"

Harley was quick to jump to their defence. She didn't want them in trouble for something so uncharacteristically mean. "No. It's nothing like that."

John sighed in relief. "Good. Because I taught that kid better and I'd hope he'd rub off on his friends. You are taking care of yourself, correct? No funny turns. No fits. Nothing I should be worried about..."

"All good on the western front," she repeated a line she'd heard in a show she'd watched with Pope.

"Then, would this have to do with Ward Cameron's kid? Rafe. I know the boys and Kiara don't like him and you've told me you've been hanging out with him and some kids from Figure Eight."

Unable to try and lie to John's face anymore, Harley slumped further and nodded. "Rafe and I are... dating and it's caused a clear cut divide. I've been cut out, like a tumor." Her metaphor sounded rather extreme and self-deprecating, but it got her point across and it was definitely how she felt. She felt like something toxic the Pogues needed to be rid off.