Chapter 8

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Fanning herself with her hand, Delilah wished the sun would leave, even if it was for just an instant.

 Sitting on the edge of the dock, the girl had both feet dipped into the water as she waited for the boys to come back. It was nice to distract herself. 

Ever since the news this morning, she was fixated on knowing exactly who these guys were and had pestered her uncle until he promised to check their identities with the sheriff department. To top it all, she was worried about Rafe, hoping that he would soon talk to her. 

Not to forget that her head ache was still present. She was nearly certain that she did not have a concussion, for the symptoms were diminishing by the hour. 

Staying still was definitely not helping her. She shot a wistful glance towards the path where JJ and Pope had disappeared. 

Enough was enough. 

Pushing herself to her feet, she strolled down the path, taking a guess at the turn and hoping the boys had each taken a path. 

She froze when hearing voices, last night's events playing in her mind. 

She took a deep breath and firmly set her gaze ahead, every movement in the woods making her jump. Shouts and yells made her speed up, her heart beating faster. 

The small group had their back to her, but as she got closer, she realized it wasn't for herself she had to be afraid. It was for Pope. The dark skinned boy was lying on the ground, hiding his face from his aggressors. 

Without thinking twice, Delilah rushed forwards, grabbing one of the boys' golf clubs as they were about to ram it down on his head. Ripping it out of the aggressor's hand, she elbowed him in the stomach, successfully pushing him away from Pope. 

She recognized Topper as the boy stumbled back, looking horrified. Pope grunted, holding his chest, where he had been kicked. The sound made the girl's anger flare, and as she turned to face the second aggressor, she was positive that she looked frankly terrifying. 

Her anger melted into confusion the second her eyes laid on the second boy's face.

"Rafe?"

The golf club slipped out of his hands. "Deli, I..."

Hurt replaced the confusion, a hint of anger making her lower her eyes.

"Go away," she snapped. "Please. Go away."

He took a step forward, but she did not budge, glaring at her best friend. The one she thought she knew like the back of her hand. 

Tears welled up inside his eyes, and although it softened her glare, anger still burned inside her. Rafe left, Topper following close behind with a panicked expression. 

Maybe Sarah's boyfriend had influenced him. Delilah was not naive enough to believe that. 

She crouched down beside Pope, worry numbing the other feelings battling inside her chest.

"Are you alright?" she softly asked, slipping her arm around him and helping him up.

"Yeah. Yeah, just a bit ruffled, that's all."

He was putting up an act, she could see as much, but she admired his resilience. 

He gently pushed away from her. His chest did not seem to bother him, yet his face made hers hurt in compassion. She did not speak, silently staying by his side as they made their way back to the boat.

"I couldn't deliver the groceries," he said. "My father is going to kill me."

"Hey, I'll tell him it wasn't your fault," she answered, trying to find an excuse not to announce to the world that Pope had been jumped. "I'll vouch for you to the people you were supposed to deliver to."

He shot her a grateful look. "You'd do that?"

"It's the least I can do."

Delilah unlocked a cabinet under the driver's seat and wrestled the first aid kit from its compartiment.

"I don't need...." he protested, but interrupted himself when she gave him a pointed stare. He sighed. "Fine."

She smirked. "That's what I thought."

Delilah gently lifted Pope's hat, wincing at the sight of the gash on his forehead. The boy bit his cheek as she rubbed alcohol on his wound, cleaning it's surroundings as best she could. 

He held back her hand when she reached for a band aid. "This is where I draw the line."

She rolled her eyes but did not insist, her throat closing up at the sight of what Rafe had done. Shaking her head, she leaned back against the side of the boat.

"So," she said, looking away. "What happened while I was kept out of this quest of yours?"

Pope traced the wound with the tip of his finger, the gash pink against his dark skin. "We managed to return to the wreck and found a bag containing a compass. John B recognized it immediately as his father's." 

The boy sighed, and Delilah realized that their brown haired friend still believed his father to be alive. "We found a clue --I'll spare you the brain test to get directly to the point-- and then a map." Delilah snapped her head towards him, attention fully focused on what he was saying. "With the exact coordinates for the shipwreck of the Royal Merchant."

"I thought he'd burnt it," she whispered to herself, frowning.

Pope rubbed the back of his neck. "We... um... borrowed a drone and are going to check out the spot."

She raised an eyebrow, staring at him expectedly.

"Would you like to come with us?"

She smiled. "Of course."

"Pope!" laughed JJ, running down the dock. "Dude, you're not going to believe what happened to me, man. That was the best 100 bucks I've ever made!"

Delilah watched in amusement as he rambled on, scrambling aboard, only to stop abruptly, lifting Pope's cap. "Yo, what happened to your face, dude?"

Pope turned to face him, lowering his gaze.

"Jesus!" cursed the blond, inspecting his friend's face. "What happened?"

"Topper and Rafe jumped me," muttered Pope, looking away. "They said no Pogue on their side of the island."

JJ's face fell, realizing that this was partially his fault. "What are you going to do?"

Pope frowned, his face turning serious. "2020 Malibu 24-MXC, world's finest wakesetter. Number one in quality, luxury and performance."

She could see the flames of anger devouring his brown eyes, and decided that she did not like seeing that particular emotion associated with him. 

He was tired of being treated this way. Revenge was written clearly in his expression. Delilah pursed her lips. From the amount of bragging Topper had done at the party, she knew how to recognize his newest toy.

"Pope," she cautiously said. "Are you really thinking this through?"

He was supposed to be the smart one, the rational one. Was listening to your juvenile delinquent friend really the rational thing to do?

"This is war," insisted JJ. "They hit us, we hit them."

Pope's eyes narrowed, focusing on a nearby boat. "Let's do this."





A/N New chapter, folks! Hope you enjoy, -Aella

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞〚𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 〛Where stories live. Discover now