Deep Water [OuterBanks]

29: charleston

The hallways of Kildare High were only mildly congested when Alana stepped out of her third period class, her fingers clutching the straps of the teal backpack that had been slung lazily over her shoulder. Commonplace chatter and schoolyard gossip unfolded synchronically around her, followed by a few wandering eyes from the kids that were still speculating if she and the rest of the Pogue's had been accomplices to Peterkin's murder. Knowing that John B was alive and well did aid in her ability to keep her emotions under wraps; however it didn't mediate the fact that they had no proof to exonerate the Routledge boy, which in a sense was almost as worse as him being dead.

With a leisurely step, Alana's converse carried her into the library at the end of the hallway. It was small compared to most school libraries, and the computers were fairly outdated; although generally speaking the room served it's purpose. The sixteen year old hastily spotted her friends near the back of the room, the trio loitering at one of the two-person computer desks. "What took you so long?" Pope asked as she reached him and the others, the librarian—with glasses high on the bridge of her nose sending him a pointed look that prompted him to lower his voice.

Alana shrugged off her backpack before adjusting the hemline of her black cropped tank in which she'd coupled fashionably with a pair of fitted khaki cargo pants. "Shakespearian dialogue gives me a brain aneurysm, so I took a nap last period. I just saw your text like, two minutes ago." She mentioned, willing to argue that she always slept best whenever her head was flush with a wooden tabletop, or she had one leg tossed over JJ. "What's that?" Her cerulean eyes traveled down to the envelope in Pope's hands as she sat down in the chair alongside Kiara.

"Some guy from the scholarship committee gave it to me during class." The Heyward boy replied, running his thumb over the wax seal that had been stamped with a rather familiar wheat symbol. "Read it." Pope withdrew a neatly folded letter from the envelope before handing it off to JJ who was sitting down on the edge of the desk beside Alana.

"Out loud." Kiara urged once noticing the blonde Pogue was simply staring convolutedly at the elegant penmanship covering the vintage stationery.

"I can't read cursive." JJ admitted, glancing over at the brunette who in return just plucked the letter from his restless fingers, fixating her own gaze on the tiny, nuanced words.

"Dear Mr. Heyward, I am reaching out because I have material evidence that can exonerate John B. Routledge." Kiara read aloud as Pope slowly and absentmindedly paced the length of the computer desk. "It is of vital importance that you come and meet with me in person, at my offices at twenty-seven King Street, Charleston at eight p.m. sharp, tonight." Her eyebrows drew inward with incredulity seeing as South Carolina was far from a simple trip across the mainland. "Please come alone. Regards, C. Limbrey."

A sarcastic breath fled Alana's lungs. "Because that's not ominous." She voiced while playing with the rings on JJ's fingers; the action becoming so habitual at this point that she rarely ever picked at her nail polish anymore.