Kook King

The Easy Way Out

It's still not easy, the days dragging on, blending one right into another. It's been... three days? Four days now? I've barely left my room, I called in sick for work everyday, and my parents are so worried about me, they ungrounded me. Not only that, they offered to take me to go look at cars.

I told them no, I'm not interested. How could I be? How could I be focused on anything right now? How could they expect that from me? All I can think about is Rafe. Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. And that kook bitch. I still don't know who it was or what she looks like, but I haven't stopped wondering if I've seen her. Maybe at a party that Rafe took me to? Did she say hi to me? Did she compliment my skirt that one time?

By the afternoon, four days after I left Rafe's, I can't think of it anymore. I know I need a distraction. And of course, I know exactly where to find one.

My dad at least fixed my bike tire so now it's no longer flat. I hop on it and ride over to that familiar trashed front yard with the red motorcycle glistening under the sun in the gravel. I walk right up the stairs, the same way I've done with Rafe so many times, and I knock on the door because, well, I'm not with Rafe this time.

No answer.

I knock again then try the doorknob. It's unlocked. I push the creaky door open and peer inside. "Barry?"

Nothing.

I step inside, carefully and quietly, almost as if I'm prepared for a ton of alarms and booby traps to star going off. But it's dead silent. "Barry?" I try again. I peer into his room in case he's sleeping, but it's empty. The bathroom door is open so he's not in there. Huh. He must be out with someone since his bike is here.

I sneak into his room and around his bed. I know that Barry keeps his stash here, and I find it exactly where I knew I would. The sound of pills in plastic bottles rattle loudly like a maraca. I pull one out and read the label. It will at least give me a good, long nap, which is what I need.

I sit on the couch, which I've never done before. I've always taken a seat in Rafe's lap, in the big armchair right there. He'd either keep his hands tight on my hips or I would sit with my legs draped over him and watch him sort out his coke.

My heart feels like it's being ripped right open. Ouch. I tear my eyes away from the chair and open the bottle. I dump some pills in my palm then throw them back. One alone may cause drowsiness, so three should certainly knock me out for a while. I sit there under Barry's wobbly fan and stare into nothing until the heavy tiredness takes over me. Once again, I'm drifting off like I'm sinking into warm water, slowly.

***

THIRD PERSON POV

John B, JJ, Pope, Kiara, and Sarah all pull up in front of Barry's and dump their bikes on the front lawn. "Alright, Pope, you be look out, the rest of us will go in and try to find her," says John B, one of JJ's best friends. He's also a pogue living by himself in The Cut because his father went off to sea and never came home. They've been best friends since forever, screwing around at The Wreck, damaging boats at The Sham, and causing trouble every year at Midsommers while JJ is supposed to be working.

JJ has tried contacting Y/N for days now, but she hasn't answered. When he came around to check on her last week, her mom said she'd been grounded for running away and doesn't have any technology. Then, just a few days ago, he saw that she had read the messages he sent her. Still no answer. He figured it's Rafe, probably not allowing her to talk to JJ, or maybe she just is too afraid to because she knows Rafe will get angry.

Now, they're at Barry's, Rafe's drug dealer and one of his only few friends. JJ brought along a few of his friends; John B, Pope, and Kiara, who invited Sarah, Rafe's sister. For some reason, Kiara thought Sarah would be a good person to help look for Y/N since she's Rafe's sister. Last time JJ checked, though, Sarah and Rafe don't really get along so he doesn't think she'll really be that much help. "And what if she's not in any of the places we think she might be?" Sarah asks, tugging at her high-waisted denim shorts.