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viii. Somebody's Always Watching
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Blair Cameron had been the center of attention of the Outer Banks ever since she was a little kid. Ever since Georgia Rutherford dumped her under the threshold of Ward Cameron's door, without even so much as a note.
She had Sarah, of course, but her softness made her quite uninteresting to many people throughout the county. She was just a girl, whereas Blair was not. She was just like her father, the prima-donna, she'd scream her lungs off in the middle of the street because the neighbor stole her stuffed animal, then laugh when he was getting scolded by his parents. People often thought Rafe was the black sheep of the family, but that was mostly because they were too engrossed in worshipping the ground his little sister walked on to realize that she had been the manipulator all along.
Sure, now, he smelled of cocaine and she didn't. She had impulsive control (though just barely), but he barely even knew the definition of the word. She knew how to hide her feelings all too well, like an actress whose frown won her an Oscar nomination and the hearts of the public. But Blair guessed that she always had the latter prize.
And it felt like someone was always watching her, wether it was Rafe glaring holes into her back as she jumped into her car and drove away to the other side of the island, still bitter about her bashing him for beating up her friend . . . or JJ Maybank's soft and tired gaze fixated on her back as she crouched besides Kiara, behind the port, hands clutching a powdery-chalk and the rugged tether of the R.O.V. they so responsibly borrowed.
"All right, JJ," John B called for his best friend, standing behind the dusty monitor. "Pin it here," he told the blonde who was steering Heyward's boat. The map was in his hands, a little crumbled.
"Roger that!" JJ nodded obediently. "X marks the spot."
"All right, ladies and gentlemen, to going full Kook."
They were in the middle of nowhere, looking for an old shipwreck charged with gold. Blair hadn't spoken it yet, but she felt that something was indescribably off. Like tingles all across her spine, setting her flesh on fire. Cold. She wanted to jerk forward and puke into the water that stirred her guts violently, unstable, but she'd calm down every time she'd catch John B's eye and he'd smile softly, transferring some of his never-wavering faith to the frightened girl.
Because that was all she was, after all. A frightened girl, center of attention which meant everybody could see it. They could read her like an open deck of cards, with odd ease. And she put them on her table, fanned out, though she knew she'd regret it later. But, instead, she focused on the drone and the tether both her and Kiara were holding, looking down at the angry water as though she was waiting for the gold to resurface all by itself. JJ was steering, Pope was behind the monitor, too.
