Alana Kessler had been fortunate enough to experience plenty of decent summer breaks. With the end of sophomore year just behind them, she and her friends vow to have the most exhilarating and notorious summer that the Outer Banks islands had ever s...
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Alana and Kiara's shift at The Wreck had gone by rather swiftly as they spent most of the lunch rush talking about the unorthodox events from the following night, all while refilling cokes and wiping down tables. Now, the restaurant was practically desolate. There were no touron's looking to catch a bite after hours of scouring the tiny island, no locals trailing in from work, just the five Pogue's. Alana sat at one of the circular four-chair tables alongside Pope while JJ stood behind her, his restless fingers playing gently in her blonde hair, still straightened flat from midsummers.
"I'm sorry. You're staying where?" Kiara asked bitterly, her question directed towards John B who was currently leaning against the polished bar top, fidgeting mindlessly with a pepper shaker.
"Tannyhill." He replied blankly, sparing the brunette girl a short-lived glance.
"So you're living with Sarah Cameron." Kiara avowed, making strides past him, carrying a serving tray of five lemonades over to the table.
"I tried to convince him to stay with me instead." Alana chimed in with a shrug.
"Okay, look, the only reason I'm living there is because her dad bailed me out, right?" John B spoke tiredly, pushing himself away from the bar. "And it's way better than foster care, which, by the way, is where I was about to go if Ward didn't—"
"Hey, so do you have a membership to the clubs now?" Pope casually interjected, slouching comfortably in the wooden chair.
"I don't know, Pope." John B sighed, grabbing one of the lemonades from the tray as he sat down.
"What about those little golf carts they get to drive around? You get one of them?" JJ drew his fingers away from Alana's hair, raising his own cup to his scarred lips.
"Does it come with a sweater-vest or do you have to go buy one of those on your own?" Pope continued to take harmless shots at the Routledge boy, narrowing his umber eyes as he twiddled with the pencil that was always tucked securely behind his ear.
"Look, you promised." Kiara's face fell as she looked down at John B. Multicolored seed bead bracelets and necklaces decked her body, and her dark curls were pulled back into a messy bun. "You said you weren't with her."
"Bro, just own it. She got you." JJ postulated, using his hand to shield his frosty eyes as the sunlight shifted inward through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Look, if you wanna hang out with her, that's fine. But I'm letting you know now that I'm not doing anything with Sarah." Kiara declared inexorably, resting her hand on the back of Alana's chair.
John B ran a frustrated hand over his freckled face, his chocolate eyes darting to each of his four friends. "Do you guys see her here? No, right. A little focus would be fantastic." He suggested petulantly. "We've got the map, right?"
"Well, it's all out of whack 'cause the guy was ganja'd when he drew it." JJ informed, glancing over Pope's shoulder as he unfolded the old parcel map.
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