Disaster Island

Chapter 1- Rock Music

"Turn it off!" I yell, my voice being drowned out by the loud music my dad is listening to. Can I not even get a simple two hours of sleep in this house? He's always favourited his weird entertainment over me, blasting it at full volume until the house feels like it's shaking and my ears are bleeding. You could probably hear it from a mile off.

I pick myself up off my bed and storm through into the living room, my hands turning to fists and the familiar angry expression covering my face.
"Turn it off!" I repeat, this time turning the stupid music off so I could be heard.

My fathers body spins to face me, his grubby white shirt covered in whatever drink he previously had and a clear orange pill bottle in his hand.
"I was listenin' to that ya little shit!" He shouts, his accent coming through.
"I'm trying to sleep!" I snap back. His face turns livid.

Why do I even bother talking to him that when he acts like this? Why can't he just apologise and move on? Good things don't happen to people around here unless you're a rich Kook living on Figure 8 and being favourited by the corrupt officers of Kildare County.

"If ya want sleep then do it outside!" My dads voice sounds, spitting in my face and cutting my thoughts off.

His wish is my command.

Sleeping outside has become a regular thing for me recently and although it sounds weird, it's quite a nice change. We have a two toned hammock tied to two trees in the yard and it's quite comfortable once you find the right position. During the summer it's more relaxing because of the heat, although sometimes it becomes too hot to sleep. When it becomes too cold to be outside I usually stay at John B's house or go to Heywards.

I shift my body over towards the fridge, grabbing one of the last cold beers from the top shelf and shuffle out into the garden, my eyes opening widely as the music resumes from inside.
"Dickhead." I murmur as I slam the door shut and throw myself into the hammock, laying back into a half sitting position. I look down at my cargo pockets and pull out my lighter.

For some weird reason that even I don't know, I feel some kind of comfort in just flicking it open and closing it again. I guess growing up with a guy like Luke you find a sense of security in things you'd never expect to find it in. Sunglasses with scratches all over the paint, bracelets made from rope and beads and random old action figures you find washed up on the beach.

I flick open the rust worn lighter and close it once the flame had gone out. A small vibrating sensation is coming from my left pocket. Dropping the lighter as I pull out my phone, I stare at the screen for a second or two before unlocking it. John B. I feel my whole personality light up as I unlock my screen and go into our messages.

"Urgent meeting at Chateau."

The Chateau is his old house by the marsh that his dad owns but the name is the only fancy part about it. Nothing like those rich houses on the mainland. Takeaway boxes are scattered everywhere, dirty clothes are piling up and the occasional homework assignments are crumpled under the couch. Even the rats by the water hate coming close in case they come in contact with a pair of dirty underwear or a mouldy piece of bread from whenever we had our last food fight.

I switch off the blinding light coming from my cellphone and shove it deep into my pockets, putting the lighter in the other. Giving way, the hammock sends me off the side as I lean over the edge to look at the shadows from the lights. I land on the floor in a heap. Damn it.

I push myself up off the floor and stand up, my arms and legs left sticky from whatever I had just fallen in. I check my belongings in my pockets, making sure they aren't wet also and I start heading away from the house, towards the roadside that leads to the Chateau.

Don't get me wrong, The Pogues are great and all but sometimes I wished I lived like a Kook. Rich, having a brand new car for any day of the week. I guess my theory about wishing is true, nothing good happens no matter how hard you hope for it.

Once I reach the road, out of site from my house, I begin the muscle aching walk to JB's house. If I wasn't so tired this would be a way less painful journey but i'd had only twenty minutes sleep before I got woken up. I search for something to fiddle with, I pick up a rock from the floor and toss it around in my hands.

Buzz Buzz
Buzz Buzz
Buzz Buzz

My phone falls floor and switches itself on again as the call continues, revealing an incoming call from Pope. A green phone button comes into view and I swipe it, putting it onto speaker so I could hear it.

"Hey JJ!" Pope voice sounds.
"Hey Pope." I answer.
"Where are you? We're all waiting for you." He continues.
"Sorry I got held back a bit, i'm only a couple of roads away."

In the background, some voices can be heard.
"John B? Kie?" I question.
"They're arguing about who's going to be driving the Twinkie." Pope replies, I can practically visualise him rolling his eyes at the thought.

Buzz Buzz

The Samsung logo pops up and my screen goes dark, showing my reflection. I must've forgotten to charge it earlier before leaving the house. Fuck sake. Why?!