[ xxi. it's never enough ]

➸➸➸

"HEY, DON'T WORRY, WILLA. You two have got this."

"Do I look worried, John B.?"

"I meant—"

"Because I'm not. But even if I were worried, it wouldn't be for me. At least I'm not the one breaking into a salvage yard."

"You still can, if you want, but I would rather you didn't risk it."

"You don't think I can handle myself?"

"No, I know you can. You don't have to prove that to me after all the shit we've been through."

"At least one of you doesn't doubt me. Be careful in there."

"And you be careful out there."

Willa Deveraux chewed uneasily on the inside of her ragged and raw cheek, a solemn expression ridden upon her placid face, as she reeled upon the final exchange shared between herself and John B. Routledge from only twenty minutes prior in the afternoon. It had been so short, so miniscule of a parting goodbye, but his words still weighed heavily in her mind long after he had gone. John B. had sounded so hopeful of Willa and her determination, and she was certainly not about to let him down now.

From her place in the passenger's seat of Kiara Carrera's vehicle, Willa's legs were pulled up to her chest and her bare arms were looped loosely around her knees, her attention out towards the dry landscape that was the south side of the island. Less than a hundred yards away was the salvage yard itself, sitting idly on a dead-end street. Willa and Kiara were currently watching the compound silently from a safe distance, appearing to be alone in their company, but they were truly far from it. Somewhere beyond their fields of vision—hidden amongst trashed and rusted parts of machinery—were three boys waiting for the proper moment to pounce.

All the teenagers' given positions, inside and outside of the lot, were about to be very pivotal in the ways of success in the minutes to come.

"Tire's officially flat," Kiara's voice sounded near Willa's head, through the open passenger's window. The latter turned to her right, seeing Kiara slip a shiny pin into her back pocket from where she stood just beyond the door. "You ready to do this?"

Willa nodded tensely. "Ready as I'll ever be," She replied. Letting her knees fall away from her chest and her feet slap flat on the safeguard mat below, Willa quickly pulled down the visor, taking one last moment to examine herself in the mirror. A pair of tired and bleak, green eyes looked back at her, the attention automatically falling to the blackening scab on her chin. Willa's lower lip curled beneath her teeth at the painful sight and a huff of irritation slipped from her lungs.

"That's not as bad as you think it is," Kiara consoled, following Willa's eyes to the tiny and dusty square mirror in the visor.

"Yeah?" Willa asked, only-half believing her.

"Yeah. No one around here is going to ask any questions about it," She reassured. "Now, come on," She beckoned, reaching out to pull open the passenger's side door. Slowly, Willa climbed out into the warmth of the humid summer air and she automatically twisted her curly hair up, trying to cool her already sweaty neck. Once they were both standing upright Kiara started down the road. "Just follow my lead," She said over her shoulder.

Willa risked one last glance around the open and grassy plains that surrounded the yard, entirely unsure of just where the three pogue boys were exactly hidden, but she could still feel their colorful gazes upon her exposed body, nonetheless. Feeling their presences around her, Willa attempted to relax; they would not let anything happen to her or Kiara if this were to fall through, right? They would not abandon them.

Besides, Willa inwardly thought as she looked back to the Carrera family vehicle, the tire was flat. She would not be lying about that when she was finally forced to interact with the salvage's staff. She could do this, she could do this, she could do this. She had to stop overthinking it. She had already done much worse experimentally, and delinquent-wise in the past couple of days.

Rebellious butterflies began to fly rampant amongst the thickened knots twisting deep in Willa's empty stomach, the bulky and anxious weight in her abdomen dropping deeper and deeper, heavier and heavier, with every step that she took closer to the chain-link fence that lined the salvage yard's massive compound.

"Show time," Kiara murmured under her breath, all the while raising her head high.

And just like that, with two simple words from the girl beside her, Willa Deveraux found her own attitude sharpening as she followed suit. With her own head now lifted high to the sky, too, her chin jutting out in a cold slice of bone, Willa's hands automatically went to her waist and her brows twisted with feigned annoyance; annoyance that her damn car had broken down.

In the blink of an eye, no longer was Willa afraid of what may become of her after this moment. This—acting—was second nature to her, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Willa knew how the play the parts of people that she would never actually be. She had been doing that ever since she was a small child, forced into the spotlight that her parents had crafted specifically for her. After all this time, Willa was not afraid of that bright and bitter beam; she was only ever truly afraid of what part of herself would be lost once the ray was pulled away from her blazing and bleeding skin. Because that happened every time, too. Every façade, every lie, every personality, every piece of her that she never wanted to be only latched itself that much tighter onto her soul each time. And in that suffocating hold, the ugly and terrifying pieces of herself only tore deeper into the precious and good given parts of her. Little by little, the innocence and trueness within Willa continued to be dragged into the depths of an icy and deathly water in which she knew that she would never be able to reach its bottom.

Yep, Willa mused dryly. Regrettably. Show time.

"Hello? Excuse me?" Kiara called outward, waving a wild hand as she and Willa grew closer to the tiny shed-like office/guard post that rested just inside of the locked gate of the yard. A single man sat inside the small building, his pasty face barely distinguishable through the heavily dirtied panes of glass. He appeared to be in his late thirties. Bald, too, with only faint stubble along his chin for an excuse of a beard. Willa did not recognize him as he stepped out of the office and began to approach them and she was almost entirely certain that he did not recognize her, either.

"Oh, we are so happy to see you!" Willa breezed, sighing loudly in relief. "We thought we were goners for sure."

"Can I help you?" The security guard asked suspiciously, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the chain-link fence. Standing this close to him, divided only by a flimsy barrier that anyone could easily scale over, the man was actually not that much taller than Willa. She found that made him less intimidating—not that she was that intimidated by him, anyways. If only he would stop staring at them like they were pieces of meat.

"Um, we have a flat tire," Kiara announced carefully, smiling a bit too politely. Her voice was unusually cheery. Willa could sense that the girl beside her hated 'playing the part' just as much as she did, even if she were excellent at it, too. "We were wondering if, maybe, you could help us out?"

The guard hesitated and Willa stepped closer to the fence. "Please?" She begged timidly. "We have money."

A long moment passed in silence. From over her shoulder, somewhere, she could feel three familiar pogue gazes watching her, each young individual likely holding their breath, waiting for the moment to determine fight or flight. Willa was waiting, too. Silently, irritably. And she did not like to be kept waiting.

Finally, the bald man's expression softened. He looked them both over once more, his beady, black eyes lingering a moment too long. "Yeah, sure," He complied. "Be right back."

Without another word the guard turned on his heel and went back to his office, stepping inside momentarily to grab his belongings. Willa watched him the entire time, her narrowed sage eyes never leaving the back of his sweaty, shiny head, waiting to see if he would come to his senses, and notice that something about this situation was entirely off. But he did not. He was too enticed by the sight of two pretty and helpless young girls who seemingly, desperately, needed the aid of a man. A perverted one at that.

Willa scoffed inwardly to herself. Kill all men.

"That was too easy," Kiara noted slyly, pulling Willa from her thoughts.

Willa made a quiet noise in the back of her throat and grinned crookedly. "I don't like I've ever seen you smile so much, Kie," She teased, just as quiet.

"Yeah, don't get used to it."

Willa chuckled softly but was unable to sneak in a lasting jab before the guard was returning to them. With the touch of a red button the chain-link gate automatically began to open, squealing loudly on its rusty hinges at it did so. Willa grimaced at the horrible sound, tilting her ear into her bare shoulder slightly, but was relieved at how widely the entryway to the yard had become. The boys would have no issue sneaking past once she and Kiara had lured the guard far enough away from his post.

"All right, which tire is it?" The guard questioned, lugging his black toolbox at his side.

"It's this back one right here," Kiara explained as the trio quickly made their way back down the road to the idly sitting Carrera vehicle. To Willa's relief, the car itself did not have a forcefully inflicted flat. Instead, the two teenagers had opted to drag a full trailer along behind the car, making that portion the bait so that the girls could immediately unlatch the heavy load if they needed to make a quick escape from the area. "It must've been a slow leak or something," She added airily, coming to a stop beside the trailer's far left tire.

"Yeah," Willa jeered sarcastically, drawing the man's attention her way once more. "Or you just barreled over sharp rocks like we were in the Indy Five-Hundred."

Kiara was quick to play along. "I was in a hurry," She defended with a huff.

Willa rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's what happens when you try to take a shortcut."

The guard exchanged glances between the two girls, a faint—but creepy—smile forming at his chapped lips. Willa wanted to vomit. He was not seriously getting turned-on by the sight of this pathetic catfight, was he? Willa's eyes narrowed further as the guard dropped down to his knees beside the tire, but then her sage gaze shockingly and abruptly widened at the sight of three newfound sprinting figures darting past her, less than a hundred yards away from the gathered trio. One-by-one, John B., JJ (who stopped briefly in his run to send Willa and Kiara a sarcastic and playful thumbs-up), and Pope hurriedly ran through the rusted open gate and disappeared into the depths of the salvage yard.

Willa could only watch them go, her jaw slightly dipped in disbelief, her façade dropping for only a nanosecond. Holy shit. They actually made it. Well—they made it into the yard. There was no saying what they might encounter within the compound on their search for the drone. Only the greater powers above could protect those boys now. Kiara and Willa had done their part. They had caused the perfect distraction. Now, they just needed to wait a little while longer for the proper moment of the boys' triumphant return and then they could get the hell out of there.

"Don't worry, I can fix this," The guard reassured, tearing Willa's attention away from the open gate. She sharply looked back down to the man below her feet and her chest tightened angrily. Though he should have already set to work on the tire, his attention lingered on her and Kiara's bare legs, both girls wearing noticeably short shorts, before he finally forced his eyes to meet Willa's expression. She was glowering dangerously right at him, but she was unsure if he could truly see her venomous expression through the bright glare of the sun above. Meanwhile, Kiara was oblivious to the tension, her auburn eyes still locked on the space the boys had last been seen. "So, shortcut got you, huh?" The guard asked, attempting to make dull conversation. "You must be local, then?"

"Oh, no," Willa immediately denied. Suddenly, an idea clicked in her brain and she smirked, popping her hip out. "My girlfriend and I decided to take a small getaway to the coast before school started next month. Long distance is a real pain-in-the-ass and we wanted to try to spice our love life back up," She explained vainly, very aware that Kiara was now adamantly burning holes into the side of her head. Willa's smile only widened, baring a malicious set of white teeth at the guard below, before she looked towards the girl beside her affectionately. "So much for being spontaneous, though, right, baby?"

Kiara was still stunned but, to Willa's relief, the guard had finally turned his attention back to fixing the flat tire, his gaunt cheeks flaming in embarrassment. That had most definitely put him off his perverted game.

"Yep," Kiara confirmed breathlessly. From over the man's bald head, Kiara's features twisted with confusion, the girl practically screaming with her eyes, what the fuck, Willa?!

Willa Deveraux merely puckered her lips back at Kiara, the gesture still unseen by the distracted man, and then her expression quickly slipped into a playful grin. Kiara rolled her eyes in return but had regained her startled composure even though her round cheeks were still burning in disbelief.

Suddenly, the fiddly silence was broken by the echoing sound of distant barking from a dog within the salvage yard. Willa snapped her head up in surprise and inwardly flinched as the security guard looked up from the tire in confusion, as well. "Do you hear that?" He asked.

Kiara, even though she could obviously hear the barking, frowned in overdone confusion. "Hear what?" She questioned.

The guard rose to his feet, abandoning his tools as he did so, and looked towards the open gate of the yard where the barking seemed to be growing louder, growing closer. Shit. "Sounds like Tebow's got something," The man noted, wiping away the sweat that had gathered on his face with the front of his shirt.

"Who names a dog Tebow?" Willa blurted out.

The guard looked sharply at her. "Me," He growled.

Willa cautiously stepped back.

Kiara awkwardly cleared her throat and waved a measly hand, as if hoping to defuse the anger that was steadily growing. The barking continued to persist over their heads as the guard looked back to the gate once more. "It's probably just a raccoon," She suggested. "Nothing to worry about, right?"

Slowly, with a little further insistence from Kiara, the guard reluctantly shrugged and dropped back down to the tire. "Yeah, you're right," He replied stiffly.

As the man set back to work on the tire, Willa's sage gaze shot towards the main entrance to the yard once more and she prayed that whatever chaos the boys had managed to find themselves in that they would be able to get out of it in one piece. But knowing their luck, one of them was already likely being mauled by a dog as she spoke. It was probably JJ. No, not probably, Willa decided, it was most definitely JJ. The blonde brawler was easily the only one that would ever go out of their own way to antagonize a dog that was antagonizing them back.

Kiara nonchalantly reached out and brushed Willa's arm, pulling her guarded attention away from the gate. With bated breath Willa watched as Kiara slipped the familiar pin out of her back pocket and motioned to the set of tires on the opposite side of the trailer. Her dark eyes were pleading with Willa's, silently saying, keep him busy.

Not a problem, Willa wanted to say back. Instead, she simply nodded in understanding as she mindlessly rocked on the back of her heels and inched closer to the man, partially blocking his peripheral gaze while Kiara quietly went around to the other side of the trailer and set to work on flattening another tire.

Several long moments passed in relative silence—well, the silence that was their trio's breathing and a rampant Tebow still barking off in the distance. Willa spared a careful glance over to Kiara but found that she could only see the top of her unruly head. When she looked back to the guard, her eyes drastically widened in alarm, finding him already looking back at her—or rather to the empty Kiara-sized space beside her.

"Hey, where'd your friend go?" The man wondered. His tone was tense and on-edge. Uh-oh.

Willa's heart lurched painfully in her chest. "Oh, um, she's just grabbing the money," She lied. Her hand went to the edge of the trailer, her gaudy fingers slapping loudly against the metal, warning Kiara to hurry up. "You're almost finished, aren't you?" She asked, her voice an octave louder, speaking more to her friend than to the man in front of her.

The guard abruptly rose to his feet, the locked toolbox now held back against his burly chest. He loomed over Willa. "I am finished," He announced.

"Oh . . . awesome!" Willa praised appreciatively, looking quickly back-and-forth between the finished tire and the taller man. He hardly paid her any regard, wanting his money's worth for the repair, right then and there. He tried to step around her, going to meet Kiara, but Willa crossed his path, blocking him against the side of the trailer.

"Get out of my way," The guard snapped coldly.

Suddenly, Willa had no regard for her own safety. Suddenly, this man was no more than a threat to herself and Kiara, and her brain brashly snapped onto autopilot, an instinct that she was wonderfully and viciously comfortable with. "Um, hey—no," She protested sternly through gritted teeth, but the guard was no longer looking at her, his own sweaty expression twisted with confusion as he saw the top of Kiara's head. "Wait, she's actually peeing!" The guard harshly knocked Willa aside instantly, pushing her off balance to clear a path for himself, but she quickly rounded on him once more, her sage orbs blazing with a newfound fury. Her hands were wound into violent-seeking fists. "Hey, stop! You pervert!—"

"What the hell are you doing?" The guard demanded, catching Kiara in the act of deflating the tire.

Kiara slowly rose to her feet, trying to hide the pin in her palm but the effort was futile. "T-This one looks a little low, too," She stammered out, looking cautiously to Willa from over the guard's shoulder. And just like that, gone were her acting skills. Gone were Willa's, too.

"What the hell are you two playing at?" The guard hissed, looking between the young pair with horrorstruck beady eyes. "What's going on?" Unexpectedly, Willa heard a distant and sharp shout, followed by even more loud barking; all of which sounded from deep within the salvage yard. The guard's eyes widened in alarm at the newfound chaos forming behind him, realizing just how bad this was for him, and then turned to run back to the yard.

"No, wait!" Kiara pleaded of the stranger. "Stop!"

Willa abruptly stuck her leg out as the guard attempted to run past, causing him to snag his feet on her own and fall to the pavement. She immediately backed away as the guard flipped onto his side so that he could not pull her down with him, and then turned to Kiara, ignoring the man's cry of pain as he pushed himself hurriedly back to his feet. To both of the girls' surprise the guard did not spare either of them a second glace as he took off into the yard once more, following the deafening howls of Tebow as he chased his prey.

From there, it only took a moment for Willa to rightfully process who represented the prey. "The boys," She gasped in alarm. "Shit!" She promptly attempted to follow the man into the yard, but the rusty gate was now being pulled back to a close, trapping the boys in and locking the girls out.

Kiara grabbed Willa's arm and began tugging her towards the front of her vehicle. "They'll be fine. They know where to meet us," She reassured shakily. "Come on. We've got to go!"

Reluctantly Willa allowed herself to be pulled away from the trailer and once Kiara let her go, she climbed into the safety of the car. A moment later, Kiara was at her side in the driver's seat, but her hand lingered over the keys still trapped in the ignition. Several beats passed between them in silence, both girls breathing hard, their ears still faintly invaded by the barking of a large dog off in the distance.

Then Kiara giggled.

The Carrera daughter slumped back in her seat and her trembling hands fell away from the wheel. Willa glanced carefully at the girl from the corner of her eye, unmoving and unspeaking. More seconds passed by, and Kiara was now laughing as if they had not just been in danger, as if the boys were not still out there likely running for their lives.

At the chaotic image that intruded her own mind at the intense thought, a smirk surprisingly pulled at the corners of Willa's own mouth. A chuckle slipped from between her lips, shocking her but enlightening her all the same. She was almost certain that she and Kiara were laughing for two entirely different reasons, now. Laughing—laughing to ignore the panic that still coursed in their rattled veins.

"Jesus," Willa breathed exhaustedly. She pulled her legs back up to her chest. She was no longer so worried that the security guard would come looking for them again. From the anarchic sounds within the salvage yard, it seemed as if he would be occupied for quite a while.

Kiara snickered. "Girlfriend?"

Willa's eyes snapped away from the window and over to the girl beside her, her sage eyes widening at the call-out. "Hey! He was staring like a perv!" She insisted firmly. Then her lips twisted smugly, seeing the tease in Kiara's own body language. "I don't know why you're complaining," She jested cockily. "You'd be lucky to have me as your girlfriend."

"I would, huh?"

"Yep."

"Well, I wasn't complaining. I was just surprised," Kiara chuckled back, her voice light as air, her face genuine. "That was actually really, really smart, Willa."

"I know," Willa responded confidently. Kiara was not the first fake girlfriend that she had ever had before. "You've got to play on what makes people uncomfortable. Public displays of affection are always number one. Remember that," She instructed flimsily, lazily, growing more relaxed the longer they sat in the safety of the vehicle. "Now, let's get out of here before that creep comes back."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Kiara replied hastily, already turning the keys in the ignition to start. "Let's hope our boys are all still in one piece."

Willa laughed again, short and blunt, but still such a joyful, chaotic sound. Kiara grinned as she put the vehicle in reverse. And off to the pogue rendezvous point they went.

➸➸➸

"I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT stealing drones could make someone so hungry."

Kiara Carrera let out a soft groan of hunger as she kicked her feet off the dirty dashboard and sat up straighter in her seat. Beside her, John B. Routledge slowly lulled the Twinkie into park outside of the popular Wreck restaurant and killed the ignition of the Volkswagen, silencing the steady beat of rock music that had been playing on the staticky radio.

"All in a day's work," John B. grinned excitedly, eyeing the big, black device through the rearview mirror. The box that the deep-sea drone was safely contained in was currently tucked against Willa Deveraux's side, her right arm draped lazily around it as she gazed out the window into the darkness of the night. Finally, today was almost over. She was so tired. She was so hungry, too. She could not wait to bite into a tasty chicken strip and eat her weight in greasy, over-salted fries.

That, to Willa, was paradise.

"What I would do to a beer and shrimp and grits right now," JJ Maybank mumbled as he moved to open the van's sliding door. Willa followed after him closely. His once off-white t-shirt was now torn and stained yellow, noticeable even in the darkness of the vehicle. Willa could only wonder how much dirt JJ had been forced to crawl through in an attempt to escape Tebow. The other two boys around her did not look much better either, she noted.

Pope Heyward made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, crawling towards the exit after the blonde. "It would not be pretty, JJ," He quipped. One-by-one the five teenagers piled out of the Twinkie and started for the restaurant's large and welcoming doors. Their footsteps were slow and leaden, the promise of a fresh and decent meal being the only them that kept them moving forward rather than just collapsing on the asphalt where they stood.

Golden light soon welcomed them inside and Willa exhaled a large breath as she stepped over the wooden and rickety threshold, inhaling the fiery grease and the humid air as if it were a second home to her. Unfortunately, she had been there less than ten times in her whole entire life. With Maren always determined to make a home-cooked meal, take-out was a rarity in the Deveraux family. She could only imagine what Maren might think of her eldest daughter now, splurging on wasteful calories and fatty foods when she was supposed to be clad in a skin-tight gown, gearing up for an elegant ball that was scheduled to commence in a week.

"Hey, Dad," Kiara greeted warmly, leading Willa and the boys deeper into the restaurant. Mike Carrera instantly looked up at their arrival from his place behind the old-fashioned register located at the end of the wooden breakfast bar and his auburn eyes glinted warily. "How'd we do?"

"Hey, honey," Mike responded, his tone rather lackluster. "Didn't turn it over once."

Kiara wrinkled her nose in disappointment as she went over to hug her father. "It's probably just bad luck because of the storm," She insisted, squeezing him tight. Willa swallowed stiffly at the sight of such a casual and loving interaction between a father and daughter. When was the last time she had hugged one of her own parents?

"I'll be sure to tell the banks that," Mike grumbled back, releasing his daughter.

"Guess now is not the best time to ask for free food for me and my friends?" She bated carefully.

Mike hesitated and the five teenagers could see the answer hidden in his eyes. Willa pursed her lips, her stomach tightening at the awkward situation unfolding before her. She cautiously took a step forward, closer to the duo. "I can pay, Mr. Carrera, if it's an issue," She volunteered quietly, drawing both of their equally shaded eyes in her direction. Surprised expressions stared back at Willa, but she did not falter under the weight of their scrutiny. Quite frankly she would drop a thousand dollars, there and then, if it gave her a single French fry.

"Yeah, she'll pay," JJ arrogantly piped in from behind Willa. He clapped a hand on her shoulder which she immediately shook off.

Mike did not regard any of the male teenagers behind Willa. He then smiled down at her, but the gesture did not reach his eyes. She had seen that expression one too many times directed her way. "Thanks, Willa," He said. "But—"

"It's really no problem," She interrupted determinedly. She reached around to the back pocket of her jean shorts. "Please, I insist. I have my card right here."

Mike Carrera held his tongue as Willa continued to watch him deeply, pleading silently that he would take her money—her parents' money. Because, come on, everyone wanted to take the Deveraux's money. How could the Carrera's, who were obviously struggling to make ends meet, protest that? Suddenly, though, a soft voice sounded in Willa's ear, derailing her train of thought. "Maybe we should give them a moment alone, yeah?" Pope suggested politely. Without waiting for a response, he placed warm hands on both of Willa and JJ's shoulders and guided them deeper into the Wreck restaurant, over to a lone table that John B. had apparently already claimed for them.

Willa took a hesitant seat beside Pope at the table, feeling the credit card beneath her burn a hole into her pocket. She glanced over her shoulder cautiously, watching the exchange between Kiara and her father unfold. She could not hear their words from this distance over the clanking of silverware and quiet conversation, but by the expression blatantly forming on Mike's face she knew that it could not be good. Abruptly Mike glanced over to their table, his dark eyes searing, and Kiara followed his stare, her own face twisting apologetically. Willa immediately turned back around in her seat, her cheeks warming at the fact that she had been caught spying, and she did not look back towards them again, instead opting to tear apart her napkin in hopes of finding herself distracted.

Only a few idly spaced customers lingered in the darkened dining area around them. It must have been close to closing time. Willa dropped her tattered napkin to the tabletop and frowned. She wished that she had her cell phone on her; then she might be able to keep tabs on the time and day, even if the lack of general service kept her from keeping tabs on anything else that she found relatively important.

"Buck up, ladies and gentlemen," Kiara called from out of nowhere, and Willa turned. The former was grinning now as she approached their table, much happier than she had previously been in the company of her father only moments prior. "We're getting leftovers."

"Yes!" John B. cheered and high-fived an equally ravenous JJ. "I'm starving."

Willa's own stomach growled lightly at the announcement and her lips tilted slightly upward in relief. But she was still troubled. "Are you sure that I can't pay?" She tried again once Kiara had taken a seat across from her.

"Willa, it's fine," She promised soothingly.

"I feel bad."

"I don't," JJ chimed, swiping a half-filled pitcher of soda from a nearby abandoned table. "Free food and beverage, sunshine. Take it while you've got it."

Willa mutely rolled her eyes and looked back down to the wooden tabletop below, feeling more than inferior toward her surroundings. As the pogues broke off into varying and wandering conversations, Willa remained relatively silent, simply waiting for a meal that she would have otherwise had no trouble at all paying for. Her gritty and chipped fingernails ran slowly across the numerous dents and crevices in the maple tabletop, and she barely looked up when JJ passed numerous glasses filled to the brim with sugary sweetness around the table, saving her for last.

A moment later a red basket of gloriously golden fries was placed in front of her. Willa glanced up, meeting Kiara's stern gaze through the dimmed lighting.

"Eat," The latter commanded. "It'll be going in the dumpster outside if you don't."

Like the naturally stubborn and defiant person that she was, Willa Deveraux wanted to continue to protest for what she knew was right . . . but her snarling stomach selfishly had other intentions. Before she was even aware of what she was doing, Willa hastily reached into the cheap, plastic basket and plucked out a handful of salty fries, practically swallowing the thick wedges whole in a single bite. And then she did it again. And again. And in that very instant, Willa did not care what the others might have thought of her shockingly starved behavior—but then she found that the pogues were all very much doing the same as her.

In no time at all, the five teenagers were being served multiple throwaway piles of meals left untouched and unwanted by the greater community of their small island town and life simply could not have been better.

The energy quickly returned to Willa as she ate heartily and without fault, dunking her many scattered pieces of fried chicken into various sauces that littered the round table. Not for a single moment did she care that she was eating someone else's scrapes and within twenty minutes of the first greasy fry touching her lips, followed by more than half a pitcher of root beer, she was smiling with a full belly. She was content and satisfied once more, her bare feet now kicked up on a rickety chair opposite of her, loudly laughing away as Pope tried to catch a flailing shrimp that JJ had tossed his way.

Upon finishing another glass of soda, Willa set the empty cup aside and turned her attention towards the last chicken strip on the table. Fatty and plump, she had purposely left that strip for last. From the moment she laid her eyes on it, she knew it would be the best one, and she would be damned if anyone else snatched it. That was, until someone actually did.

Willa's fingers roughly and accidentally brushed against John B.'s, both of them reaching for the last savory strip at the same time. His eyes widened as he looked bashfully to the shorter girl beside him. "Sorry," He apologized.

Willa smiled back, just as reserved, yet neither teenager let go of the chicken strip. Willa stiffened, wondering if she was actually going to have to battle John B. out for this last piece—and then a horrid thought occurred to her and she instantly felt sick to her stomach. Though no one would ever say it aloud, Willa remembered, deep down, that John B. Routledge was never, ever going to properly be promised another freshly cooked meal again. She, on the other hand, was. Willa still had a mother and father that ensured she had food on the table every night. John B. did not. With her cheeks burning in shame, she abruptly dropped the strip. "You keep it," She insisted shyly. It took all her power to keep from adding, I'm sorry, onto the end of her sentence.

John B. remained unfazed, still watching her face carefully. She hoped that he could not see her blush. "Split it?" He compromised.

"No, it's—" Willa hurriedly shook her head.

But John B. had already split the strip in two and shoved her half further into her own greasy palm. "There," He smiled. His hickory gaze still held her sage, playful and sultry, even as he reached around her and slyly grabbed a small sauce cup. "Now stop hogging all the ranch," He snickered teasingly.

Despite herself, Willa chuckled loudly, throwing her head back dazedly. John B. laughed at the silly sight, his eyes crinkling mischievously at her. A stranger from a nearby table looked coldly in their direction at the somewhat obnoxious sounds they were making as they finished the last chicken strip together, but Willa did not pay the individual any regard. No, she was too happy for that right now.

Suddenly, from over their heads, the hushed music that had been playing from the large speakers switched to a new tune. Kiara's eyes immediately widened, enraptured by the new music. "Oh, I love this song!" She chirped, rising excitedly to her feet from the other end of the table. She quickly tapped John B. on the shoulder and motioned for him to get up. With a parting glance from the Deveraux princess, John B. eagerly joined Kiara, following her deeper into the uncrowded dining area to dance. They were a mess of limbs and laughter, sweaty, and greasy, and glowing, and Willa watched them both as they twisted and turned beneath the warm shadows of light with a soft smile on her lips, seeing the careless delight and joy so evident in their sun-kissed features.

"In the afternoon when the sun is strong,
I try to close my eyes and get lost in thought,
I got a company, I got a lot of men,
I try my best to share and take care of them, well,
But it's never enough . . ."

Kiara Carrera gently turned within a dancing embrace, the soft of her back now only centimeters from the front of John B.'s long torso, and her auburn stare caught Willa's from across the room. Her dark and long braided locks shifted delicately with the shake of her shoulders as she rose her arms upwards, pretending as if she were casting a line out towards Willa, pulling and reeling her in like a fish. "Come on, baby," She beckoned to Willa, smirking as she swayed her hips from side-to-side.

The corner of Willa's lip turned upwards at the familiar term, her chest flaring with jubilee.

"Uh . . . Did I miss something?" Pope questioned from the seat next to Willa, looking confusedly between the two girls as he, too, caught hold of the affectionate term. Kiara's smirk only grew the deeper the crease in Pope's brow became.

"Oh, you most certainly did," Willa giggled, her expression beaming as she rose to her feet. Looking down at Pope now, she pulled a half-eaten bowl of clam chowder out of his large hands and then wrapped one of her own smaller ones around his fingertips, gently tugging him towards her. "Dance with me, Pope."

Pope Heyward's jaw dipped in slight disbelief, frozen momentarily, but who was he to turn down a dance? He could never. His hand clasped tightly with Willa's as the pair made their way over to Kiara and John B., both of them grinning in response. And unbeknownst to any of the teenagers, from across the room, Mike Carrera turned the music up a little bit more.

"I got a brand-new car, got the perfect house,
And when I get home my kids laugh and shout,
How can I still want more, how can I feel this way?
Human nature takes over me, and it goes like this,
But it's never enough . . ."

Willa allowed herself to be twirled within Pope's friendly embrace, her dazzling sage green eyes peering lively into his darker ones. He was grinning, his cheeks ablaze, the bookworm within himself tucked away for the night. The four of them were the epitome of teenage freedom; of silliness and chaos, and joy, and fun. Willa, Kiara, Pope, and John B. danced without a care in the world, losing themselves within the serenity of the summertime beat, snapping their fingers and stomping their feet in rhythm with the night. Elsewhere, back at the table, JJ did not seem to mind that he was left without a dancing partner. It merely meant more food for him, after all. And he would much rather stuff his face than find himself tripping over his own two left feet, despite the many callings from Willa and Kiara that slipped over his shoulder, the boy so oblivious to the two girls dancing so closely behind him.

Slowly, now briefly in the arms of Kiara, Willa was twirled away again, the two girls sashaying beside each other as they easily and swiftly switched dance partners. In a movement as smooth as a gentle marsh current, Willa suddenly found herself face-to-face with John B. all over again, the boy looming half a foot over her curly head. Standing so close, she had to tilt her head to meet his face, to hold his longing hickory gaze. Never once did she stop in her dance, her bare feet still pulling her this way and that, drawn inward by an invisible and beautiful force. As the song reached its crescendo, Willa's jeweled hands twisted with John B.'s familiar ones, their fingers intertwining, and he spun her around in a leisurely circle, only to then pull her back into his warm chest.

Willa smiled tenderly as she looked up to John B., and he back down to her. With the music flowing so delicately in their ears, it no longer felt as if Willa were standing in the shadows of a popular tourist restaurant. No longer could Willa feel the harsh and splintered floorboards beneath her feet nor the bloodied scab pulling painfully at her chin when she grinned too widely, trying to forget. Now, it felt as if she were no longer in the Outer Banks at all. She was safe within her own bubble—a bubble that she was more than happy to find herself sharing with John B. Routledge.

For a single moment in time, neither of them was in a race against the clock. They were not being hunted by vicious gunmen or diving to the depths of an abandoned shipwreck. They were not breaking into ghostly cemeteries and blatantly lying to the police, risking their reputations and their lives all in the name of a promised fortune lost at the bottom of a godforsaken ocean. No, for a single moment in time, Willa and John B. could just be teenagers; the very same teenagers they had been in those early midnight hours of the Boneyard beach all those days ago. With the world falling away into peaceful tune around them, they could be the young kids that they had been forced to leave behind on that fateful summery night.

For a single song, they could be as open as the sea. They could be as gentle as the moon.

The quiet reggae song whispered down to Willa Deveraux once more, reaching its painful and somber end, silencing the calmness of the summer evening.

"Oh, it's never enough."

And with her bruised hands still held between John B.'s, her small body pressed against his—even as the clear and haunting lyrics that echoed above her fragile head very cruelly reminded her that such a promised life before her could never possibly suffice her existence, that it would never be enough—Willa could not help but wish to ask, dare to ask . . .

What if it was?

~~~~~~~~~~

i am in love with willa deveraux, that is all.

and what is this? two updates within a week? who am i??

but oh my goodness, i had a lot more fun writing this chapter than i did the previous one! there was just so much going on, so much chaos for the pogues, and i absolutely thrived in all of it! i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! developing willa's character and breaking down her interactions and behavior is just so much fun to do. she's always keeping me on toes and, wow, i just adore her to pieces.

anywayssss, this chapter was very much kiara/john b. bonding related--but i still have no idea who willa's love interst is going to be, hah! that's half of the fun of this story. i love exploring willa's vibes and relations, but we are getting to an ultimate reveal soon, i promise. sooo, what're we thinking?? i don't really know what to say, so what did you enjoy about the chapter?! is there anything you'd like to see in the future with the more hectic episodes to come?? i'd love to hear your thoughts 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.

side note, the cheesy memes are back.  enjoy.  all credits go the original creators.