[ vii. head above water ]

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FOR SEVERAL AGONIZING SECONDS, not a single sun-kissed body within the tightly packed huddle dared to move and with bated breath, no one was exactly eager respond to Willa Deveraux's prodding but otherwise innocently concerned question.  One-by-one each pair of young pogue eyes tore away from one another, but even in the silence that should have been filled with their supposed answers, Willa did not miss a single wandering glance. Kiara Carrera, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward were all looking aimlessly about the Routledge's open front yard in any direction that did not involve Willa, but the brooding firecracker hardly paid any of the three closely-knit, blatantly oblivious friends any regard. Instead her attention was now on none other than John B. Routledge.

"Oh, don't get quiet now, John B.," Willa scolded, her voice hoarse and crackly from having just lost her entire stomach mere seconds ago. "If you can choose to not treat me like a kook at your party, you can certainly still do the same now at your own home."

With Willa's declaration, the hot summer air grew stiflingly hotter and John B. swallowed timidly, his soft hickory eyes never leaving Willa's stern sage ones. He was the only one of his friends who had tried to look away, only to regret it and had abruptly looked back, knowing that he truly could not show Willa such callous when he had not bothered to do so in the presence of his friends the night prior, either. Besides, John B. did not want to ignore Willa. No, not in the slightest. She did not deserve it.  She was sick and she was scared.  She just needed someone on her side, someone to hold her strong against the overbearing weight of the sea, even if she did not yet truly understand the severity that her actions had just caused to her own already drowning soul.

"Look, it's nothing, all right?" John B. finally assured her. And it was nothing—to Willa, anyways. In fact, the existence of the wreck in the marsh should have been nothing of concern to any of them. If he had any say about it, John B. was not going to tug on that thread that JJ was so desperate to unwind anymore, and he hoped his friends would follow suit.

But—as any of them should have come to expect—like the explosive hot-head that JJ Maybank naturally was, attempting to forget the promise of a potential fortune was most definitely not all right to him. Seemingly forgetting that Willa stood directly across from him, JJ looked to his best friend beside him. "Come on, John B.!" He protested, beating lightly against his friend's chest, as if hoping to relight the rebellious, angry flame that had been snuffed out in the fallout of the fight.  "I don't care what Peterkin said," He exclaimed. "If the cops don't want us to go down into the marsh then that means there's something valuable down there, and you know it."

"Peterkin?" Willa voiced aloud, her brows furrowing with confusion. She was familiar with the Kildare Country sheriff, of course, but only through the older woman's interactions with her father. Alden Deveraux was a doctor, after all; it made sense for them to speak on occasion when regarding the victims that passed out of the hospital and then into the police station. But John B.? Where did he fit into that equation? "Why're you involved with Peterkin?" She prodded.

"DCS," John B. explained softly, his face dropping uncomfortably as he said the words allowed. It was no secret to any of the crew how disastrously entangled John B. was with the department of child services, but every time he was forced to remind himself of his frightening reality—that he could be pulled from the Outer Banks at any moment—he felt sick. That he really was an orphan, through and through, and that he might not have a place to call home soon.

"Oh," Willa murmured, swallowing a tight lump that had formed in her throat. She had never meant to bring up such a sore subject for the boy. She could vividly remember how torn up he had been all those months ago in the wake of his father's disappearance. She had watched his dedication to his schoolwork decline before her very eyes, where she sat only four seats away. She had never been able to help him then, but she hoped—in any way—that she could possibly help him now. "I'm sorry."

John B. smiled appreciatively, even though Willa Deveraux's kind word truly meant nothing in the ways of his actual future. Willa had no say in whether he was taken from his home or not, but it was her genuine support, nonetheless, that still made John B. smile. "It's—"

"Don't tell him sorry," JJ hastily interrupted. His eyes were narrowed at Willa, but his icy blue orbs were still alight with interest and promise all the same. "We're going to get him out of this. He knows it, too." The determined blonde looked away from Willa and back to the brunette boy beside him, sending him a reassuring nod of encouragement. "Don't you, John B.?"

From beside Willa, Pope Heyward awkwardly cleared his throat, his dark eyes searching for JJ's, trying to draw him back from the fog of his own furiously spiked adrenaline, deeply rooted in his blistering veins. "JJ, I think think—"

"No, Pope," JJ cut him off next, never missing a beat as he took a step back, giving himself distance from the group. He needed the room, or he was going to explode; he was going to go right out onto the jetty and take the Pogue for himself. "Look, I understand why you don't want to go. You're the golden boy. You've got too much to risk." JJ's eyes then flickered away from Pope, bouncing entirely over Willa, and landing to Kiara. "And you're already rich as fuck, anyways. Why would you bother?"

Kiara and Willa simultaneously frowned at JJ's extremely blunt words, but their mutual reactions formed from entirely different reasons. "Risk?" Willa repeated, the single word falling from her lips in a hiss as her attention narrowed in on the blonde boy before her. "What are you talking about? What the hell have you guys been doing out here?" She then whipped her head in the direction of the smaller girl beside her. "I thought you said there was no involvement with meth labs, Kiara."

"Hey, there isn't!" Kiara exclaimed defensively, her frown deepening as her auburn gaze flickered with an aggressive spark.

"Meth labs?" JJ scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Is that what you told her, Kie?"

"I didn't tell her anything!"

"I thought we agreed to keep this between the four of us," JJ argued.

Willa Deveraux put her hands firmly on her hips defensively. "Standing right here, guys."

"We did until you ran your big mouth!" Kiara shouted back at JJ, completely disregarding Willa's words—and practically her entire presence, too. "You couldn't just keep your head out of the contraband clouds for five minutes?! Five minutes, JJ. That's all it took."

"Contraband?" Willa suddenly choked out, her eyes widening in alarm. Once more, her prodding questions pulled the pogue group from their mindless bickering, but only for a mere moment. "You mean, like drugs?" She pressed inquisitively.

"Drugs, weapons, money," JJ drawled, unable to help himself from smirking in delight as he looked suggestively from his friends and then over to Willa. The thrill of the unknown, of chaos, always called out to him like a beacon in the night. He was going to get down to the bottom of the marshes with or without help, he knew that much already. "And it's all going to be ours."

Elsewhere the others were a bit more unconvinced by JJ's antics and desires. "That's a little extreme, don't you think?" Pope frowned.

JJ's burning blue eyes flashed once more. "Whose side are you on, Pope?"

"Would you all just shut up?"! John B. suddenly snapped in a burst of anger, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "For the love of God, shut up."

Willa hesitatingly took a soft step back and flinched as a hard rock dug into the arch of her bare foot. On either side of her, Pope and Kiara had also backed away and had quieted down, too, knowing that there was no point in continuing to speak of such a heavy topic if they did not have John B. on their side, anyways. JJ was the only one who had yet to move from his former place in the circle; he was entirely too used to random outbursts of anger and frustration, and John B.'s rage was nothing compared to that of others he had experienced in his shattered youth.

For a long moment no one spoke, and in that silence, Willa Deveraux found that she could only look at John B Routledge. A million different emotions splayed across his beaten and purple face, but his eyes rang clear amongst the aches and pains that otherwise filled his throbbing head. Beneath the pale moonlight of yesterday, Willa had not been able to see so clearly through the haze of her own drunkenness, but she could see John B. perfectly clear now.  Willa could see how much was struggling; how his pain ran deeper than a bruised face. John B. Routledge had a bruised heart, broken and aching for an ending that he did not quite know how to grasp on his own.

"John B.," Willa found herself whispering softly. With only a single name, every head in the circle had spun back in her direction, but she never lost sight of the hickory ash that called towards her own burning sage. "I know you didn't expect me to show up at your house today. I didn't, either," She murmured softly, delicately, as if she were walking on eggshells near a bomb that no one anticipated to be live. "But I'm here now and I see you. I see that . . . that you're not as alone as you think." Her words were so careful, her face void of any fear she otherwise held for the future beyond this single moment alone. "You don't have to explain anything to me about what's going . . . but I'd really, really appreciate it if you did . . . I want to help you." Because you helped me, she wanted to say to him next. Instead, she only pursed her lips and added, "If I can."

For deep in her heart, despite her sincerest curiosities, Willa Deveraux truly did not care about the promise of existing contraband. No, all she wanted to ensure was that John B. was alright . . . but if it did mean searching for contraband in the depths of a muddy marsh, she might have to do just that. Did she sound absolutely insane to the rest of John B.'s onlooking friends by suggesting such an offer? Probably. After all, who did Willa actually think she was? A kook trying to make friends with a pogue?

But JJ, Kiara and Pope had not been there on that piece of driftwood yesterday evening at the Boneyard beach. They had not seen the perfectly frayed tight rope that their two souls had balanced—had chosen to balance—together. On that piece of driftwood, there had been no social divides. No kooks or pogues. They were just teenagers. John B. and Willa of the Outer Banks. Not once had she been Willa Deveraux. Not once had she been Willa, Ace's weird older sister. Not once had she been Willa, the tainted kook.

In that moment, sitting side-by-side with John B., she had been just Willa, and she had never felt more welcomed in a place in her whole entire life.

Across the huddle John B. had yet to move, had yet to even blink, as he watched Willa. She merely stared back him, holding her breath, allowing him to make the next move. She had put the ball back in his court; she would not knock John B. back as carelessly as she once had from the night prior, when they had both been drunk, lost in their own prides. Right now, she would stand in the light of the dying sun and wait for John B. to make his own call.

And if he pushed her away, then Willa would walk. But she did not sense that John B. would turn his back on her just yet.

After a brief glance around the spread-out huddle to each of his best friends, seeing the varying levels of distress written across each of their features, John B. still found that, despite their warnings, their fears were not enough to sever the invisible tightrope between a kook and a pogue just yet. After all, it was only a sunken shipwreck. Whatever might have been in that ship formerly was dead now, and the dead could not come back to life. The dead could not talk; the ghosts of a forgotten world could not pull Willa, John B. or any of the surrounding teenagers down into their graves without mercy, without regret.

As long as they kept their heads above water, they were safe.

"Okay.  Okay."  John B. licked his lips, allowing his expression to soften as he took a gentle step towards Willa, decreasing the distance between them in the divided huddle.  "Yesterday we went out in the marsh and about halfway there we came across this sunken Grady-White," John B. carefully explained, letting the words fall from his mouth as if he were finally exhaling a painfully tight gulp of air. "When we got back to shore, we found out that Scooter Grubbs had been killed, and that the boat had been his. He'd gotten caught out in the storm and it capsized."

"Scooter Grubbs . . . with a Grady-White?" Willa questioned distastefully, her brows pulled tightly together in confusion. How could a marina rat—a man that had literally once begged her father for spare change in the local market parking lot—wind up with one of the best, most expensive boats on the water?  "How'd he manage that?"

"That's what we wondered, too," John B. admitted, slightly impressed by how unfazed Willa, the Deveraux princess, appeared at the mention of a dead man and a sunken ship. He could see the wheels turning in her head as he spoke; she was putting the puzzle pieces together just as quickly as he could supply them to her. "But before we found out he was dead—when we were still out in the marsh—I dove down to see if there was anything salvageable. I found a key-card to Summer Winds," He continued, and Willa's eyes widened with understanding, her thoughts momentarily seeping back to her prior discussion with Kiara regarding JJ and the gun. "In his motel room we found money and a gun, and there's more where it came from. We think Scooter was trying to move whatever else was onboard back to the mainland, but he couldn't beat the storm.  And now he's dead, and it's just out there in the marsh, completely unguarded."

"And?" Willa instantly assumed, sensing that he was still holding back on her.  The corner of John B.'s lip twitched just the slightest.

"And the police are looking for it."

All at once, the puzzle forming within Willa's mind instantly broke apart and she crossed her arms cautiously over her chest, her lips turning downward in a frown as she looked around to the four different faces currently staring back at her. "Is . . . Is that a bad thing?" She questioned uncertainly.

Suddenly, JJ snorted and shook his head in disbelief as he glared across at Willa. Immediately Willa's cheeks began to flush, and Kiara hastily butted in, coming to her defense. "What's so funny?" She snapped.

"She's a kook," JJ snickered, raising a hand up-and-down, outlining Willa's skinny figure as if she were an entirely different species from them. "Of course, she'd trust the police."

Willa's eyes narrowed. "JJ, they're the law."

"The law doesn't mean shit in the Cut."

"But it's contraband," She argued, pushing back against the protesting blonde.  She could feel her heart beginning to beat quicker in JJ's rash presence, her uneasy nerves alight with the fiery potential to explode on him, too.  They were each other's own worse shadow, each desperately desiring to have the last word.  "What's so wrong with the police finding that? They'll know how to get rid of it."

"We don't want them to get rid of it!" JJ exclaimed loudly, his icy eyes wide in alarm as if the contraband were already being torn away from his bare hands, then and there. "If there's money on that boat, we need it." He then lifted a hand to his best friend's shoulder and squeezed tightly. "John B. needs it if he wants a chance at beating DCS."

"JJ . . . I still don't think this is a good idea," Pope swallowed. Beside him, John B. nodded his head quietly in agreement, still so unnerved as to what might befall him if he were to actually get caught by the police out in the marshes.

Across the huddle from Pope, JJ swallowed timidly and merely shook his head, unable to take 'no' for an answer. With desperate, frantic eyes, he looked back to John B., now practically pleading for a single chance to change the turns of the tides for his family. He could do it, and he could not dare lose John B. when there was an obvious option right in front of their faces that could save him from the clutches of child services that JJ knew would not protect him. No, only the crew could protect John B. They just needed to be brave enough to take the chance. "John B., you and me, man, we've got nothing to lose! We really don't, all right? Listen to me, I have a plan," He insisted. "You've got the key to Cameron's big boat, right?"

"No, JJ." John B. shook his head sternly. There was no way in that he could steal from his rich boss. Ward Cameron would kill him right where he stood if found on his expensive, luxurious boat, Druthers, without a good reason. And if by some miracle, Ward did not choose to make his life a living Hell, then his kook princess of a daughter Sarah Cameron certainly would. "No."

Meanwhile, as she stood there with her arms still tightly wound across her chest, Willa found it unsurprising that JJ would not be so easily dissuaded. "There's scuba gear," He protested. "We borrow that, and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon, and that is what's going to save you, man." His dazzling blue eyes briefly flickered to Willa's and JJ licked his lips as he looked back to his best friend, taunting a future that was so close he could nearly touch it. "You don't see rich kids going into foster care, do you?"

Willa could not decide if JJ was secretly trying to take a jab at her or not, but she chose to ignore him regardless. What had become of her own dark past was not her fault.  Willa Deveraux had no choice in her upbringing. She had not been able to tell Maren and Alden that she did not want them, that she would have rather took her chances with foster care and had been able to remain on the mainland where she always desired to be. From the moment of her first breath, her life had no longer been hers—not entirely. But one day—one day Willa may yet find her peace. And that promise was worth more to her soul than her everlasting anger for JJ that was always brewing beneath the surface of her sun-kissed skin.

And so, when John B. was finally convinced that the reward was worth the risk, and JJ, Kiara and Pope had all agreed to the plan of waiting on the jetty until John B. returned with the scuba gear, Willa found herself eager to join in on the search.  "I'm in, too," She informed.  All at once, four stiffened bodies immediately turned back in her direction, though only three of the four faces held expressions of surprise.  "What?" She demanded of John B.'s three friends.  "I want to help.  It's just contraband."

"Just contraband," Pope mocked, shaking his head in disbelief.  Was he really the only one with a real working brain cell in this entire group of individuals?

Willa rolled her eyes.  "Besides, you don't think I'm walking home, do you?" She questioned.  "I'd drop dead before I make back down the driveway."

"Here's an idea," JJ drawled sardonically, tilting his head to the side as he turned his body fully in Willa's direction. "Why don't you go find out?  Hmm?  Test that theory."

"And make your life easier?" Willa challenged, jutting her chin out as she, too, turned to face JJ square-on.  Now, with only mere inches between them, Willa had to look up slightly to meet JJ's eyes, but she could recognize the familiar storm in his tropical gaze even with her eyes closed.  "That doesn't sound like fun to me. Now, give me back my shoes."

Willa instantly reached out for the black sandals the blonde still held in his arms, striking like a cobra, but JJ Maybank was all the more quicker. With a wicked smirk pulling at his lips, he hastily tossed the Birkenstocks behind him, allowing them to land where they may on the front lawn without a single look back. "I'm not your butler, sunshine," He snickered coldly.  "You'd do good to remember that next time."

Willa gritted her teeth, her hands curling into fists at her sides.  "You are lucky I am not holding those shoes right now, or so help me—"

"Guys," John B. warned sternly, interrupting their bickering once more and drawing both of their dirty, pointed expressions to his otherwise placid face. "Look, you two better figure something out before I get back."  He quickly pushed him into the narrow space between them, softly guiding them both further back.  "Willa's coming and if that's a problem for you, JJ, then you can stay."

JJ shook his head angrily. "John B.!—"

"I'm not leaving her here to throw up all over my property again," John B. rebuked. His tone had lightened somewhat, but he was still only half-joking. "So, you two best get comfortable. Have a smoke or something." He then turned away from JJ and looked to his immediate right, his attention now going back to Willa. "There's beer in the fridge. No Fireball, though. Help yourself to whatever."

Willa Deveraux smiled appreciatively at John B., but otherwise knew that she would not be taking anything from his refrigerator. Lord knows that he needed every piece of a meal he could get—even if it was only frozen pizzas, moldy sandwiches, semi-warm leftovers from the local restaurant, The Wreck, ran by Kiara's parents, and icy piss-poor beer to chase it all down.

As John B. finally pulled away from the two aggressive teenagers and went off to gather his belongings, Willa, JJ, Kiara and Pope soon were all left to their own devices.  For a moment, no one moved, each unsure of what to do next in an environment so unused to them all.  Three pogues and kook.  If that did not scream disaster, Willa did not know what would.

Finally, unable to stand idle in the yard any longer, at the same time, both Willa and JJ suddenly took a step in the same direction, as if planning to move back to the house, but upon each other's movements they both froze where they stood in the yard.  Then Willa moved once more, stepping where JJ had meant to next, but she beat him to it, and he was forced to step back with narrowed eyes.

JJ's expression was twisted with annoyance as he watched Willa walk off to gather the shoes he had so carelessly tossed aside.  "Hey, sunshine," He called, his voice laced with sarcasm.  "If we're out there and the cops come our way, I won't hesitate to cut you loose."

"Cut me loose?" Willa repeated, bending down to pick up one of her abandoned sandals.

"Yeah," JJ shrugged, nonchalant in his very real threat. "You know, kook bait."

Willa merely rolled her eyes, unbothered.  "How original, JJ."

Without another word, Willa quickly gathered up her remaining sandal and held them tightly in one hand.  She was not yet ready to put them back on her feet, her skin still burning and blistered from the leather.  Elsewhere in her torn, stormy system, her own heart was also withering into its own blistering mess, and it all had to do with the blonde boy who was very quick to follow her into the house.

Meanwhile, Kiara and Pope were still standing in the yard, watching in disbelief where the two teenagers had vanished, and they could still hear Willa Deveraux and JJ Maybank bickering from where they currently stood.  "You think there's a chance we could just let them drown each other out on the water?" Pope wondered.

Kiara scoffed at his teasing tone, but nonetheless smirked at the mental image. "My money's on Willa," She informed playfully.

Beside her Pope Heyward chuckled softly, his stomach slowly awakening with butterflies as he looked down to the beautiful island girl beside him.  As the two friends began to walk towards the Routledge shack, the boy eagerly reached out to shake Kiara Carrera's now extended hand. "Oh, you are so on."

~~~~~~~~~~

believe it or not, willa still doesn't have a set love interest.  sorry john. b.  i can't help the chemistry he and willa have, my goodness gracious.

also, for anyone that thinks "hmmm maybe they're being too accepting of willa?  if they're so accepting to willa why can't they be to sarah cameron later?" well, that's because none of these children realize they're after gold yet.  none of these kids have no idea what's coming.  that's why they take willa along without too much of a care in the world.  and then, once its too late, willa's already in too deep herself. so there you go.  yes, i know these characters, i know they don't like kooks. but they somewhat like willa more than they do sarah cameron anyways?  well, most of them.  little do any of y'all know that jj's seriously looking at willa like he's planning to use her at bait for the cops if they were to come up.

but that'll all change, of course. wow who can't wait for the moment that willa and jj can tolerate each other??!

anyways, now that we're past that huge explanation, let's talk about the chapter itself! what did y'all think?! how're we feeling about willa? what're your thoughts on the connection between her and john b.?? what do you predict to happen to willa next?! i'd love to hear what y'all are thinking and what you'd like to see next!  so please, leave some votes and comments because your girl would really appreciate it! thanks for reading! and i hope y'all are having a lovely day or night.

stay safe and stay well.

—B.

also, check out this amazing meme, i literally cried when i saw it--creds goes straight to tumblr.