𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

THIRTY-SIX| ms. limbrey and her tea

THE Pogues were back on the road the minute they were all awake. 

A orange and pink sunrise painted the sky as Heyward's truck drove down the crowded Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge. The mellow glow of the sun reflected off of Eden's skin as she stared out the window, her eyes caught in the beauty the sun was providing them after a night full of mishaps and arguments—almost as if it was showing there was something bright within their near future.

Eden had been the first awake that morning, and after capturing the first glimpses of the sunrise in silence, she woke up her other friends to get a move on. The least they could do was show up to the Limbrey meeting as soon as possible after utterly diminishing the invitation time—better late than never, right? 

From beside her, JJ looked out the window too, lost in thought, "Wonder where John B. and Sarah are right now."

Eden takes her friends question to mind; What were her two friends doing? Over the past week, she hasn't truly thought about what her best friend and his girlfriend could be doing; what they have been doing. After all, while Eden was trapped in grief, they were trapped in the Bahamas. 

"Sarah probably has the hottest sun highlights in her hair, and John B. is probably sun burnt." Eden muses, picturing her friends surviving in the Nassau heat—the Routledge already complained enough about how hot it was in the OBX at times, she's sure the Cameron's heard it all by now. "I'm sure he's missing the Chateau fan, that only sometimes works, but it's better than the shitty ass humidity he's living in there."

"We should surprise him with a new fan as like a welcome home present or something." JJ chuckles. Eden couldn't count the amount of times the fan has broken down in the middle of summer, or the middle of sleepovers—sleeping up against JJ and John B. who are practically human heaters is not fun in the middle of July without any air circulation, if you were curious.

Pope sighs from the drivers seat, "I don't know how many more times I can show up at the Chateau to fix that fan at 3:00 a.m so I'm totally down for it. We just have to see this Limbrey person first." 

"Let's hope she doesn't mind our late show." Kie mutters. She's more upbeat than the previous night, but it's still clear everything her mother said is still at the front of her mind.

Eden shrugs, "We're the Pogues—we're late to everything. I mean, John B. always shows up late to Halloween at his own house somehow."  She thinks back to the countless times the Pogues have had to wait out Trick or Treating—or just walking around the Cut in their random group costume ideas—because the Routledge is still buying a piece of his costume at the Dollar Tree.

"He's always fashionably late, there's a difference." JJ defends.

"As if you would know anything about being fashionably late, J." the Bexley crosses, "You wear a t-shirt, cargo shorts and a hat everyday it's not that hard to make decisions when it comes to your fashion."

"I'm sure they'll understand our car problems...." Pope brings the conversation back, eyes on the road as he taps his finger against the steering wheel. "This person is the one last chance we have at clearing John B.'s name; at catching Shoupe's attention. I need to know what they know and why I was the one who was sent the letter out of the four of us."

JJ comments, "I couldn't tell you the last time I was sent a letter."

"Pretty sure me and John B. used to write letters to each other when we were in elementary school. Just for fun." Eden recalls, thinking back to when she and the Routledge would send letters back and forth—she'd trade in her neat calligraphy for John's slanted letters every week. "Couldn't tell you why though because we saw each other every day."