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THREE MONTHS INTO LIFE ON THE CUT and Tess wants out. She wants the evermore buzz of Aunt Shirley's sitcom on the tv to go away. She wants back the mini fridge next to her bed stocked full of beer, and the way people used to look at her as if she was actually worth something, anything at all, like she's not just the girl who's parents got on the ferry to the mainland and came back in body bags.
Baby Blue's been kicked off her high horse, say the other islanders whenever she makes the effort to show her face in public — although it's not often these days. She had it coming, says Evan Redfield, the pogue-iest pogue Tess has ever met in her sixteen years on the island. Life's a bitch, says Aunt Shirley as she leans back in her armchair with dull blue eyes the same shade as hers set on the tv. It was a brutal wake up call for the girl who had once cared more for pool floaties and pina coladas than if some kid on the other side of the island couldn't afford to eat.
Fuck Avery, and fuck Rafe, and fuck all of those mindless kids who pretended to be her friends for all those years. It's ridiculous when she thinks of all the times they'd hung out. She'd give anything to go back and tell her younger self that no, they're not your friends, they're no more than a bunch of lying scumbags with unrestricted access to hair gel and jet skis.
Call her dramatic, Tess could care less, but it's quite plausible that the Kooks wouldn't bat an eye if she were to die next, second to her parents.
And she can't say that she saw it coming either. Because she didn't. Not one bit. If anything, she'd expected them to be by her side, supporting her as her life fell apart before her eyes. However, no. How silly of her to expect. How childish of her to assume that all of the people in this world have good souls.
Not one of her friends had bothered to show up to her mother and father's celebration of life, or dare to even go as far as to venture to the Cut after their will had been read and it was declared that the Tessler estate would be handed over to the Nautical Museum.
Tess couldn't tell you why her parents didn't leave their estate to her, or at least to Aunt Shirley. It's mind baffling, really, that of all people they would choose to donate it to, they chose the most boring, simple minded establishment in the OBX. An erratic display of behaviour, is what her aunt says it is, that maybe they weren't thinking clearly when writing it.
Bullshit, is what Tess says. Her mom and dad aren't — weren't, idiots. The whole situation has fishy written all over it.
She can still remember what it felt like to run into her Aunt Shirley's arms, sobs wracking through her body until her soul was squeezed dry and she had nothing left to give. The way it felt to have her family slip through her fingers like sand . . . it was suffocating, and it was world shattering, until eventually all that was left to do was welcome the pain with open arms and adopt a new way of living; a way to cope.
