Troubled Water » Outer Banks [JJ Maybank] BOOK TWO

I: Drift

drift
verb. be carried slowly by a current of air or water.

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August 7, 2020

where r u
Not Delivered

August 8, 2020

r u ok?
Not Delivered

August 9, 2020

why arent my texts going thru
Not Delivered

August 10, 2020

can u just tell me if ur alive
Not Delivered

August 11, 2020

i miss u
Not Delivered

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There was something distinctly different about the saltwater off the coast of Charleston from that of the Outer Banks, but Lee couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. It just felt thicker, harder to move through. Like dragging a finger through mud. It clung to her hair no matter how many times she shampooed it, it stung in papercuts no matter how cold the tap water she ran over it. It stained her clothes irreparably. The saltwater in Charleston ran like blood.

Lee blinked to attention in her biology class as the teacher, Mrs. Scheffrahn tapped a marker on the whiteboard. At her new school, most juniors were enrolled in AP Biology. After a week in that class, though, Lee had realized how poorly Kildare High School was preparing her for college, and she'd switched into regular biology. It was naive to think that moving to a new city could make her an honors student overnight. She went back to doodling flowers on the edges of her notebook page as Mrs. Scheffrahn continued her lecture on basic cell structure.

Since Lee had moved to Charleston with her mom a month prior, it had been hard to concentrate on much of anything. Every student raising their hand to answer questions was Pope. Every teenager at the thrift store was Kiara. Every boat in the harbor carried John B and Sarah. Every dirt bike was ridden by JJ. Her past life haunted each of her waking hours and invaded all of her dreams.

Maybe the plus side of moving was that Lee's mom was receiving treatment at Hollings Cancer Center and things were looking up. There was a bounce in Laura's step since they'd moved, a dimple in her smile. Things Lee hadn't seen in her mother since her dad died.

So Lee was really happy for her mom—really. She was really glad that they'd moved. And when she sat silently at lunch despite being surrounded by people, or when she scraped by in classes she used to love, or when she stared off the edge of a dock and didn't even think about jumping in, she was glad that they'd moved. Really.

But sometimes she wondered why she felt so lonely in such a big city. She wondered if her mom could see the bags beneath her eyes, the slump in her step, the hunch in her shoulders. It felt like she was grayscale in a world full of color. She missed feeling radiant.

Lee's phone buzzed in her back pocket and she reached down to glance at the text.

Shoupe wants you to testify.

The number wasn't saved in her phone, but Lee knew who it was.

I can't, she typed out in reply before tucking her phone back in her pocket.

The phone buzzed again and Lee huffed, wanting to ignore it. She worked hard everyday to construct a mental wall between her life here in Charleston and her life in the Outer Banks. The murder of Sheriff Peterkin was on the other side of the wall.