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"THAT'S A LOT OF WAX on your board — put too much wax, it's gonna be slippery."
JJ Maybank's upper lip curled up as annoyance flashed across his face like a wildfire, and he glared harsh daggers in his best friends direction, Pope Heyward. The brunette boy had been messing around with several different tools that had been stretched across a wide table — Big John's old work table, specifically.
The Pogue crew had been outside for a good portion of the morning, Kie was having the fun of her life while retuning the strings of her ukulele. She was sinking into a plastic chair along with the rest in the back garage. JJ was hovering over his surfboard like a overprotective father, too deeply interested in the object to be paying attention to such conversations.
JJ tauntingly tilted his head off to the side, swiftly stopping his movements of the wax block in his hands, "Are you telling me how to wax my board?"
"Just saying, that's a lot of wax," Pope aimlessly replied, shrugging his shoulders as he played around with a few metal nails resting in a glass jar.
A plagued JJ whipped his head around his shoulder once more, and another ghost of a scowl covered his face as he stared at his friend.
"C'mon, loosen up, J," Kie scoffed at noticing just how easy it was to get JJ's gears all stuck in a deep trap. "Your panties all in a twist because of Lynn?"
JJ puffed out his chest rather dramatically, "Shut up."
"She's been gone for literally a day, you're so dramatic," Kie exclaimed, rolling her eyes rather playfully but her tone seemed nothing but venomous. Neither of the two boys could quite tell if she was simply joking as she insisted, or if she was actually inflicted.
"I said shut the fuck up, Kie," JJ snapped harshly, and both of the remaining Pogues eyes went wide with shock as his sudden growl took them off guard. Kie's lips sealed back together, like a zipper. "Haven't any of you two heard from her?"
"I'm sure Lynn's okay," Pope reassured, a slight bob of his head for confirmation.
"Are we, though?" JJ jerked his head back in the direction of Pope, for what seemed like the fifth time this mere minute. "I think she's...I think she's mad at me. Look, everything's so fucked up right now — I just gotta know my girls okay."
What appeared like it was a car horn echoing out in the distance gathered all their attention from the previous conversation. The teenagers all glanced at each other with unbelievable expressions, astonishment flickering on their faces as the horn seemed all too familiar — too familiar because it belonged to a beat up old VW van that was supposed to be somewhere in a police lockup.
