SAIL | BOOK I (Rafe Cameron)

8.

The morning brought relief: John B. was alive and well. Sarah broke the news to us via text, and I couldn't help but wonder how she had gotten our numbers. It made me uneasy to think of her having that kind of access.

It was already noon, and I had overslept far beyond my usual wake-up time. JJ was still sprawled out on the couch, blissfully unaware of the world around him; if left to his own devices, he could sleep all day.

I glanced at my phone, noting the barrage of missed notifications. Sixteen missed calls and thirty-four messages from my parents. A surge of frustration coursed through me as I raked my fingers through my hair, feeling the tension building. I wasn't ready to face the fallout from last night's chaos. I took a deep breath, trying to steel myself for whatever conversation awaited me.

"I'm headed home," I said, shaking JJ's shoulder. He stirred, grabbing my hand and pulling me back onto the pull-out couch.

"Hey!" I laughed as I landed next to him. His eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, but he managed a smile.

"John B's okay," I told him, watching relief wash over his face.

"Thank fuck," he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair.

I jumped out of the bed for the second time that day, starting to gather my things in preparation for the inevitable.

"Are you scared to go home?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"No," I replied, drawing out my words and giving him a side glance. "I'm a big girl," I added with a laugh.

"Show 'em who's boss, like woo—ahhh!" he said, striking a karate pose.

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll work," I replied, nodding with mock seriousness, trying to stifle a grin.

The walk home felt endless, but strangely, I didn't mind. My heart raced as I rounded the corner onto my street. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath, bracing myself as I turned into the driveway. But nothing could have prepared me for the scene unfolding in front of my house.

My mom stood in the doorway, flinging my clothes and random belongings into the front yard. My eyes widened in shock as I quickened my pace down the driveway.

"Mom!" I shouted, raising my hands in confusion.

"You—" She cut me off, her finger jabbing in my direction as she stormed toward me. "You are no longer welcome in this house!" she shouted. "You defy us, you don't listen, and you certainly don't appreciate us or what we do for you," she said, gesturing angrily at the house. "Take your things," she motioned to my belongings scattered across the grass, "and get out!"

"Mom—" My voice cracked, but the words caught in my throat.

"I don't want to hear it, Josephine," she snapped, as if she'd heard enough of my excuses. She opened her mouth to say more but then shook her head in frustration, as if deeming me unworthy of further discussion. Tears sprang to my eyes as she turned away, and I jumped as she slammed the front door behind her.

Finally finding the strength to move, I trudged toward my scattered clothes, my vision blurred by tears. As I bent down to pick up each item, a few tears fell onto the grass. Once I had gathered everything, I made my way around the house toward the sailboat. It was a place I could hide away, a sanctuary where I could go unnoticed.

It turned dark quickly, I had lost track of time as I spent hours huddled in the bottom of the boat, staring at the wall and reflecting on how I ended up here.

A creak outside snapped me back to reality—it sounded like someone was on the boat. My breath caught in my throat, fear gripping me. Surely my mom hadn't kicked me out just to find me in a boat that she had also provided.