CHAPTER ONE
❛ 𝙷𝙾𝚆 𝚃𝙾: 𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙳 ❜

EVER SINCE SHE WAS A CHILD, Cassidy Liberato's one true love has always been surf. The steady lull of waters underneath her board, the salt in the air around her, the adrenaline that comes with every wave she takes on. In truth, her adoration for surf came as a shock to a total of cero people. After all, growing up mere minutes away from the golden beaches of Itacaré, it was only a matter of time until curiosity bested fear and she thrusted herself onto turquoise waters.

         Cassidy grew up with her toes in the sand and a surf board wrapped underneath her arm. And, despite being an absolute novice on the subject, her father was more than pleased to indulge her passions. The perks of (temporarily) being an only child.

         The gifts started out small, she recalls. First it was a somewhat good-quality board. A box of wax. A too-large second hand wetsuit. But with time, and as Lorenzo Carvelli's funds flourished, so did Cassidy's gifts. A luxurious one-of-kind board for professionals. Private lessons by expert surfer Adriano "Mineirinho" de Souza. Afternoons at exclusive beaches to practice.

         By the time Cassidy was eleven, she had spent most of her life by the sea. Her skin and hair were in an everlasting sun-kissed state, she had smile lines curved onto her dimples, and she always had that ever-present scent of saltwater and coconuts. Even when she was forced to leave her home behind in exchange for the Outer Banks, her routine stuck around. Wake up, go for a swim, go to school, surf again.

         And, sure, it wasn't nearly the same. She doesn't believe there's many beaches that can truly compare to Bahía. But she made it work— though Kildare County never quite felt like home, and rather more of a temporary arrangement.

         Temporary. She doesn't know if the thought makes her want to laugh or cry. The universe has some fucked up sense of humor— because it just so happens that she's now shackled to a ball and chain labeled Outer Banks.

         Paradise on earth my ass.

         "Look! Cassidy look!"

         Grace stands rigidly on her surf board, limbs stiff as she tries to find her balance on the board. It's not ideal— something that will undoubtedly end with her falling face-first into the waters. But, to her credit, she's doing pretty decently for a ten year old with only a few lessons under her belt.

"You're doing great, Grace!" Cassidy calls out from her board, idly floating nearby. "Eyes up front! Don't turn to—" She doesn't manage to finish her sentence before the young girl topples over and her small frame sinks ungracefully into the sea.

"Grace!"

Cassidy sinks into her board, swimming towards the girl's now-empty surfboard. Saltwater splashes against her brow as she finally reaches the girl's pink board, with Grace nowhere to be seen.

"Grace?"

Cassidy stares down at the murky-looking waters around her. Odd, the thought comes to her unprompted, this part of the beach usually looks much clearer.

She shakes her head. You've got a kid who's potentially drowning. Focus. Cassidy looks down, squinting her eyes. But it does nothing to help her— with how dark the water looks, she wouldn't even be able to spot the glint of Grace's silver necklace.

Cassidy stands on her board, trying to look for any sign of the girl's frame. She inhales, ready to jump—

"Did you see me?" a voice asks with unbridled excitement.

Her head of dark hair pokes out of the water without a warning, making Cassidy nearly topple over.

"Shit! Grace, don't do that!"

She doesn't know what she expected, perhaps tears, screams, a few cries of her damning surfing for today and forever. Instead, Cassidy watches as Grace grins widely— despite the fact that there's seaweed clinging to her now very tangled hair.

"Here," Cassidy offers her hand, helping her climb back onto her board, "you ready to call it a day?"

"Already?" Grace asks, pouting. "But we just got started!" she whines.

Cassidy huffs a laugh. She doesn't miss the familiarity to those words— like an echo of the past.

         "Trust me, we've spent more than enough time for today," she says, careful not to let Grace out of her sight as they swim back to the shore. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the girl furrowing her brows, unwilling to go down without an argument.

"But—"

"If you spend any more time," Cassidy interrupts easily, nonchalance slipping into her tone, "you might grow a fish tail."

Grace pauses besides her, lips parting slightly. The ten year old scoffs. "You're lying."

A beat.

"You're... lying. Right?" The hesitation dripping onto her tone is evident.

"I don't lie," She blinks at her, lying. "Last thing you want is to have to cover up gills before going out with your friends."

They reach the shore fairly quickly. Cassidy steps off her board, wraps her arm around it, and heaves it up. Grace struggles with hers, so she offers to carry it for her. It's noticeably smaller, lighter, though slightly wider. Cassidy tries to imagine Grace using a bigger, more professional board— one like hers. Her chest warms at the thought.

"I don't believe you," Grace retorts as they trudge back through the sand, reaching the white fence of her house.

"That's fine," Cassidy shrugs.

The younger girl grows quiet for a moment. "And... not that I believe you..." she starts hesitantly. "But if you were telling the truth... would that mean you've ever had a tail? Or gills?" Strangely enough, she doesn't sound disgusted when she asks it, but curious.

Cassidy stifles a smile. "All the pro surfers have had them at some point," she explains off-handedly. "Though you eventually grow out of them. With time." She glances at her, only to find Grace staring up at her with those big brown eyes of hers. Cassidy winks, her voice dropping to a whisper, "It's a secret though."

Grace's lips part, the skepticism long gone from her features. "I can keep a secret."

The Brazilian grins. "Atta girl." She hears someone clearing their throat, making her head snap up.

Grace's mom stands a few paces away from both of them, making Cassidy's grin melt away into a polite smile. Mrs Baxter returns it, and Cassidy can only hope hers didn't look as strained.

"Hi there," Cassidy greets. "Grace is doing great. She's a quick learner."

The corner of her lip quirks upward as she looks down at Grace. "She certainly is."

Cassidy nods, setting down Grace's board, her arm feeling tired from carrying its weight. "I'm pretty sure if we keep up with our daily classes she'll be a pro in no time."

Grace's eyes seem to sparkle at her words. "You really think so?"

"Oh, I know so."

Mrs Baxter clears her throat again. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that, um," the polite smile returns, "Grace, dear, why don't you go tell your sister about your lesson?"

Grace grins up at Cassidy. "Bye! Thank you!" After that, she doesn't even spare a second before rushing towards a girl suntanning by the pool. "Layla! Layla— look!"

Once the girl is out of earshot, Cassidy starts to feel an itching worry setting in her gut. As she looks back at Mrs Baxter, she tries to mimic her Dad's pearly white smile. It ends up feeling like a grimace. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes— w-well, not exactly." Mrs. Baxter inhales sharply, smile falling. "Cassidy— may I call you Cassidy?" She isn't given a chance to respond before she continues, "You know we just moved here, and are still getting to know everyone. But my husband and I talked, and maybe Grace shouldn't be learning surf, uh, right now." She looks nervous. Anxious. "It's just not the right time."

Cassidy furrows her brows, confusion itching at her. "Are you sure...?"

"Very much so."

It's odd. More than odd— it's fucking weird. Because when the Baxters first reached out to her, they were ecstatic about the idea of a self-denominated pro surfer teaching their youngest daughter. This feels like a complete one-eighty.

What changed?

Cassidy catches herself before she can accidentally let her mask slip. "I get it. It can be a little scary at first."

"Yes! Scary, that's it." She looks relieved. Strangely so. Mrs Baxter smiles again, but this time it's smaller, less polite and more urgent. "I trust that you know where the exit is?"

"Yeah— yes. Have a good day," she nods politely, turning to make her way towards the front patio.

"Mhm. Yes."

The moment she turns around, still with both surf boards tucked under her arms, Cassidy feels it— the other shoe dropping. And suddenly, all her confusion evaporates into thin air.

Because lounging next to Layla, Grace's sister, she's sees her.

Daphne Sallow.

Cassidy can feel her grip on her surfboard growing tighter, her jaw clenching, her heart beating faster. Daphne talks to Layla animatedly, laughing as she tosses her red hair over her shoulder. She doesn't even like tanning— she likes keeping her skin a porcelain white. Daphne makes brief eye contact with her, and Cassidy feels her armor start to chip away. Daphne whispers something to Layla, and it's not exactly hard to put two and two together.

Oh, you bitch.

No. She's not doing this. She's gonna walk out of here with her head held high, she's gonna—

"Cassidy? Oh my god, hi!" Daphne's voice feels like a drill in her ears. Cassidy turns ever so slightly, watching as Daphne pulls up her black designer sunglasses. "I almost didn't recognize you! What are you doing here?"

She tries to imagine her dad and what he used to say. Se eles te deixarem com raiva, você já perdeu. Cassidy's jaw ticks, but she forced a pleasant expression onto her face. If they manage to get you angry, you've lost already.

"Hi... Daph. Just finishing a quick surf lesson." She tilts her head, pulling a smile from her lips. "God, it's been so long, right?"

"Totally!"

"You look..." The same as she always does; like a back-stabbing poisonous spider frozen in amber. "...Good."

"Thanks," she responds easily, but Daphne doesn't miss the stilted ring of her tone. "You look... like you could use a break." Self-control. Self-control. "Kidding! We should totally hang out some time."

"Totally," she deadpans, unable to keep the fake lilt of her voice.

Daphne puckers her lips in thought. She taps her temple with her manicured nails, and Cassidy catches Grace's sister giggling from the pool. Daphne clicks her tongue obnoxiously. "Unless you're busy working— and, like, my heart totally goes out to you. Like, I wouldn't be caught dead working at the Cut but you know— it's not for everyone, right?"

Self. Control.

But Cassidy can't help herself. Daphne is the one person who knows just how to get under her skin. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She blinks. "Oh, nothing, just... you know. Some people are made for eating expensive fish, and others are made for skinning it and gutting it, right?" Daphne says innocently, tilting her head. Cassidy feels her jaw grow slack.

Embarrassment crawls up her spine. For the love of god, self-control. Cassidy's fist tightens around her board.

Daphne stares at her for a moment too long, a teasing smile fixed onto her lips. Then, she straightens, as if catching herself. "Right, sorry! You're working, yeah?" she pulls down her sunglasses, but not before doing a quick once-over of Cassidy and pursing her lips— as if stifling a laugh. "Let me get out of your way."

"Yeah," she says, hating the way her gut seems to curl on itself. "See you around."

By the time she gets out of the Baxter's house, Cassidy finds herself missing her old car. She wants to scream until her vocal chords snap. Bang her head against the steering wheel. And maybe while she's at it, she could run over Daphne Sallow with it.

Maybe it's for the best her car is gone.

She reaches inside her bag for her phone, her breath unsteady. Inhale. Exhale. She opens her phone, ready to shoot a text to her mom, when she feels her day take yet another turn for the worse.

Because above six texts and two missed calls from Kiara, the time reads twelve twenty-seven.

"Damn it."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time she gets to The Wreck, Cassidy is forty-one minutes late for her shift. She only just manages to stash her beloved board in the back and change to a more appropriate outfit in the bathroom— before she comes stumbling out, clumsily tying her apron around her waist.

She does a quick spin —most definitely looking ridiculous in the process— but she feels her heart slow a little as she notices her boss is nowhere to be seen.

Cassidy takes a tentative breath and allows her shoulders to drop. Swiftly, she makes herself useful— she busies herself cleaning empty tables, stacking used plates and utensils on a tray. The stress building at the back of her throat starts to feel all the more noticeable.

She needs a new job— fast. One flexible enough so that it doesn't cause trouble with her shifts at The Wreck. She bites the inside of her cheek, a glass nearly slipping from her grip. Cassidy needed those lessons with the Baxters— she's been spending money she's not going to get. And while her tuition is paid for at the moment —thank god— she still needs to pay for Isadora and Ezra's upcoming semester. Not to mention the energy bill, the water bill, gas...

Her hand falls against the table, causing forks and plates to clatter against it.

"Fuck me."

"...Is that an invitation?"

Cassidy inhales sharply, nearly snapping her neck as she turns her head. She chases away her stressed look for a close-lipped smile. "Kiara— I didn't see you there."

"You look pissed," Kiara replies, raising a vaguely concerned brow. "Something happen?"

Cassidy huffs, picking up her tray and dragging it over to the kitchen. "Just the thing to ruin my week— or month, maybe."

"It's the first week of the month." Despite having her back turned towards her, Cassidy can practically see Kiara's frown. "And a Tuesday..?"

"I'm aware."

Kie leans against the counter, her hair pulled up with a makeshift blue bandana. She cocks her head to the side, stray curls framing her face. "What's up?"

Cassidy hesitates— but she can feel exhaustion and defeat chipping at her. She huffs as her face twists into a scowl. "I just got fired." She shakes her head frustratedly. "You know the Baxters?"

"Uh..." Kiara drums her fingers against the wooden counter before snapping her fingers. Recognition sparks in her eyes. "Oh! Rich family that just moved into your old place?"

"Yeah. Them." Cassidy shakes her head, attempting to get rid of the anger that bubbles in her stomach. "I was supposed to be giving their daughter surf lessons, but I'm pretty sure Daphne fucking Sallow told them something about me. Maybe that my dad's the frickin' devil or some shit." Her jaw clenches and unclenches. She tries to imagine what Daphne told Mrs Baxter, but all it does is conjure the image of her father in handcuffs, being dragged away by some condescending asshole Detective. Cassidy hides her face between her forearms and the counter, stifling the urge to scream.

Kiara glances down at her, before casting one good look around. There is an understanding in her voice when she says, "It's loud enough around here. Let it out."

Cassidy doesn't need to be told twice. She screams against the counter, and though the sound is partially muffled, Kiara doesn't miss the perplexed looks a few Tourons shoot them. In response, Kiara simply offers a smile and raises her thumb.

After a beat, Cassidy raises her head and straightens— and had Kiara turned away, she would've never believed the girl from a moment ago is the girl she's staring at now. She holds herself ever-so gracefully— the type of grace you only learn from living Figure Eight. Then again, the line between grace and pretentiousness is a dangerous one to walk.

Cassidy's shoulders drop. "Either way, I'm already behind on payments and I really, really couldn't afford to lose that job." As she looks back up at Kie, a part of her— that dying, rusting part of her that had never worried about payments— wants to swallow the words back. Pretend she never said them. But, as she has learned recently, keeping quiet about it doesn't make it go away.

Kiara offers her an sympathetic look, before tilting her head to the side. "Have you tried going to the Beach— uh, the one that's always full of Tourons?"

Cassidy can't help the expression of utter disgust that crosses her face. So she can, what? Beg at people's feet?

"Yeah, hard pass," she scoffs, tapping her fingers against the counter as she leans on it. "I need something steady."

"Well..." Kie makes a face, kissing her teeth. "If I think of something, I'll let you know, yeah?"

Had it been anyone else, Cassidy would've taken those words to be born out of politeness, lacking any real sincerity behind them. But, as she has grown to learn during the past months, Kiara Carrera always means every single word she says.

"Thanks, Kiara."

Kiara hops off the counter. She looks like she's about to say something else, before Cassidy sees how her train of thought derails. Kiara snaps her fingers. "Oh— while you're on it, could you take care of my section for a quick sec? Dad asked me to check something in the back for him."

"Uh..."

"I covered for you." Kiara reminds her. She's already halfway into the kitchen when she adds, "Just the ones that are coming in— please?"

She really doesn't want to. And yet, she can only nod. "Yeah, okay. I think I'll manage."

"Cool. Thanks."

Kiara disappears behind the wooden doors of the kitchen just as Cassidy reaches for a stack of menus from the shelf. Turning towards the entrance of the restaurant, she allows her eyes to close for a brief moment.

You'll figure something out later. Pull yourself together.

When she opens her eyes, dread curls around her bones once again. Because, entering The Wreck are Rafe Cameron, Kelce Livingston and Topper Thornton.

"You gotta be kidding me."

One day. All she asks for is one day.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Do any of you guys see Kie?"

Pope stands behind John B, squinting his eyes. After a beat, he shakes his head. "Nope." He does a quick once-over of the place, wrinkling his nose. Pope's lips part to add something else, before JJ beats him to it.

"When did this place become Kooklandia?" JJ gags exaggeratedly. "Reeks of blood diamonds in here."

John B straightens, rocking himself on the balls of his feet as he tries to spot Kiara's familiar head of hair. He puffs out his cheeks. "Should we just wait for her?" John B asks. His brown eyes search the restaurant for their friend, and watching out for Kiara's dad— who decidedly does not like then.

Instead, his gaze finds a different brunette.

His eyes linger a moment too long, and JJ is reaching for his shoulder before the thought fully develops in his head.

JJ slings his arm around John B's neck as he lets out a low whistle. "I know what you're thinking, brother— but even I can tell that's a shit idea."

Pope doesn't follow, still searching ten restaurant for Kie. He shrugs with a nod. "Yeah, let's... let's not do anything stupid while Kiara's dad is nearby."

John B scoffs, pointedly ignoring Pope as he turns to their blond friend. "What?"

"You're looking at Cassidy Liberato with this dumb-fuck look on your face." JJ tuts condescendingly, drawing his friend closer to him. "Trust me John B— if it looks like a Kook and sounds like a Kook..."

The obnoxious sound of snapping fingers makes John B turn his head— only to find Rafe Cameron of all people with his hand raised.

The blond snaps his fingers in Cassidy's face, slouching against his seat. "I didn't order this. Take this back." He shakes his head. "This— this shit's not lemonade."

From where he stands, John B can make out the way Cassidy furrows her brows, swallowing a scoff.

"Yes, it is." She blinks down at Rafe as if he's grown a contagious rash. "You said you wanted a limonada pantano— that's lemonade with ginger, mint and basil."

Kelce shrugs besides him. "Well, not all of us speak Spanish," he drags out slowly, shooting her a dismissive look.

John B watches as Cassidy Liberato's eye twitches almost comically. If he's not mistaken, neither does she. But, to her credit, she keeps a calm tone when she responds, "There's a description under the name. It says freshly squeezed lemon with ginger, mint and—"

Topper scoffs, shaking his head. He waves his finger around, gesturing at the glass. "C'mon, just... take it back to the kitchen, will you?"

Rafe nods eagerly. "Yeah. You clearly didn't understand what I was asking for." There's a smugness in his voice that claws at the Pogues' eardrums.

"But you ordered this," Cassidy insists, and John B gets the distinct feeling that he's watching a car crash. Inevitable, shitty, but impossible to look away from. "You asked for a lemonade, so you get a lemonade," she says, her voice showing an edge.

"This is not lemonade," Rafe snaps, sounding nearly offended. The corner of his lips curve into one of those annoying smirks of his. "The costumer's always right. That's what Mr. Carrera says, yeah?"

John B glances back at Pope and JJ, only to find them staring down at the scene as well. And yet, despite The Wreck being at its most crowded, the costumers around them don't even flinch— eternally unfazed by some rich asshole complaining to his waitress.

Pope shifts uncomfortably by his side. "Is it wrong that I feel sorry for her?" he murmurs.

"No."

"Yes."

John B and JJ answer simultaneously. JJ stares at them as if they've each grown a second head.

"Are you two serious? That's just karma in its most beautiful expression."

Pope shoots his an unimpressed look. "Getting treated like shit by Kooks while doing your job?" he deadpans.

"No..." JJ says slowly, as if talking to a baby. "Getting treated like shit after years of thinking you're hot shit and treating everyone else like shit."

Pope narrows his eyes, his jaw ticking. "Say shit one more time and I swear—"

JJ grins widely, and John B watches as Pope loses yet another year off his life.

"Shit, shit, double-fucking shit."

"Dude."

"Sorry Pope," John B drums his fingers against the counter. He clicks his tongue. "You kinda walked right into that one, buddy."

Pope's lips part to respond, but instead they hear Rafe Cameron call out, "Whatever happened to service with a smile?" Pope's jaw clicks shut.

"Aw, c'mon, Cassidy— you know we're just messin' with you, right?"

This time, Cassidy offers a smile. "I'll be right back," she says, and he doesn't miss the fact that she's now holding the glass of lemonade in her hands. John B hears the Kook trio snickering and laughing loudly. Not a moment after, Cassidy sets down the glass onto the counter, making other plates and utensils rattle around her.

"Assholes."

Cassidy can feel her temper slipping away from her as she sets down Rafe's glass of lemonade. If she keeps grinding her teeth like this, she'll have no teeth by the end of the year. Paying a visit to the dentist is definitely out of her budget.

A choked laugh escapes her, and she ignores the glances a few people shoot her. She can't afford to have teeth problems now. Not until she gets another job and pays off everything her family owes.

The thing that no one ever tells you about being raised rich, is just how many of your friends are there for the money, for the luxuries, for the perks. Five months ago, people were piling up to be friends with her in hopes of being invited to go with her to Itacaré. Five months ago, Brazil was everyone's dream vacation.

Now? Now, according to most of Figure Eight, it's a breeding ground for criminals. The funny thing about it all is that her father—the man who allegedly committed those crimes— isn't even Brazilian. Her mother is. Lorenzo Carvelli, much like his name suggests, is Italian.

"Fucking island," she mutters under her breath.

A few paces away from her, one of the three Pogues straightens, a determined expression taking shape on his face. Or, as JJ described it, a dumb-fuck look that translates trouble for all three of them.

"John B, John B—" JJ hisses, intervening a moment too late as his friend approaches Cassidy.

Pope winces, leaning his head against one of the wooden beams. As if not witnessing the interaction means it won't happen. "...Aaand he's talking to her."

"Hey— uh, Cassidy, right?"

Cassidy turns her head towards the brown haired boy. Her eyes flick over him dismissively, similar to how Kelce did to her just moments ago. "Yeah," she bites, and if looks could kill, well... "And you are?"

He doesn't seem to get discouraged at her abrasiveness. He smiles sheepishly. "John B. I'm Kiara's friend?"

Cassidy runs a hand through her face, inhaling deeply. "Right," she says, her voice losing that aggressive edge it had a moment ago. Still, there's a wariness that lingers. She raises a brow. "Did you want something or..?"

"Uh, no." John B clicks his tongue, taking a step closer to her. "I mean— I saw how those guys were treating you."

Her gaze hardens. In one swift motion, she turns to look away from him, arranging three recently cooked plates on a tray. "If you're here to either mock me or flirt with me, I'm not interested."

"Neither, actually," he cocks his head slightly. "Just wanted to offer some advice— ignoring them is the easier choice, but accidentally spilling one of their drinks on them tends to keep their mouths shut during their next visit."

Cassidy scoffs, focused on the plates on her tray. "Talking from experience?"

"Eh," he shrugs. "Just a neat little trick."

The girl looks up at him with thinly veiled disbelief. "Yeah, a neat little way to get myself fired." Again. She slams more plates onto her tray with unnecessary force, nearly making him flinch. "Got any more free advice?" she asks dryly.

"Just because I like you," John B continues with a grin, unfazed. "If you choose to, y'know, give them a little piece of your mind... always go for the nose."

"Duly noted," she deadpans. She stares up at John B, then down at the tray she's holding between her hands. "Do you mind?"

John B licks his lips, before awkwardly shuffling to the side. "I'll... get out of your way."

Cassidy gives him one last glance, before she moves towards a different table, muttering something in Portuguese that John B doesn't even try to decipher.

A hand pats his shoulder. "Well, that went about as well as you'd expect," Pope says.

JJ scoffs. "What a biiii—"

Kiara, who had been missing up until that moment, suddenly decides to show up unannounced. She folds her arms over her chest, raising a brow at the blond.

John B jabs him with his elbow. "JJ," he coughs.

"—biiiitch."

Kiara stares at him with something akin to disbelief. "Why would you still end it like that?" Pope hisses.

"I totally blanked, dude."

Kiara rolls her eyes, shaking her head as a show of disapproval. "What are you boys doing here?"

John B grins. "We were thinking about going for a little adventure, go to the marsh to fish a lil' bit—"

"I'm working." Kiara raises the cloth on her hand and the dirty tray on the other.

"Yeah, clearly," JJ rolls his eyes.

"Apparently not clearly enough."

"Hey, Kiara," Cassidy's voice makes all three boys perk up. She comes back with three empty trays in her hands, eyes focused on a notepad resting on top of them as she scribbles something on it. "Rafe was complaining earlier about his lemonade and—"

Kiara groans. "Ugh, he always does that. Just make him wait five minutes and hand him the same drink with a few more ice cubes."

The boys watch as a hint of a smile curls on Cassidy's lips. Ditches the empty trays on the counter, turning her attention towards Kiara. "Got it." Her eyes flick towards them— and, just like that, her smile is gone again. "I see your friends are still here."

Kiara folds her arms over her chest. "Don't worry, they were just leaving."

"We'll be waiting for you at John B's— don't leave us hanging," JJ calls out, quickly backtracking as he spots Kiara's dad coming round the corner.

"Get out," Kiara shoves them, but the smile on her lips is something she can't hide. Cassidy doesn't miss the way her face seems to brighten around the three boys. She wonders why.

"Promise you'll be there—"

"Fine! I'll be there!" She calls out exasperatedly, watching with a wide smile as the three stumble out, effectively avoiding getting spotted by her dad.

"Cassidy— I didn't see you come in," Mr. Carrera observes as he turns around the corner, though not in an accusatory tone, but rather just pointing out a fact.

"Yeah, place's crowded," Kiara responds for her. "Oh— by the way, I left the order of plantains and vegetables by the back."

Her dad nods. "Thanks, Kiara," he says, and heads towards the backroom.

Cassidy pauses, then tilts her head. As soon as her dad is out of earshot, she turns to Kiara. "Your friends are..."

"Please tell me they weren't bothering you."

Cassidy considers her words for a fraction of a second. "They're... interesting."

Kiara scoffs a laugh, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that she avoided her question. "Yep. About as messy as they come."

Messy. Cassidy observes as Kiara heads back into the kitchen. Messy. Her friends were messy too— but it was... different. She wonders if there were red flags before her family lost everything— signs she missed that pointed at them being the two-faced assholes she now knows them to be. She also wonders if it would've been different, had she had friends like Kiara.

The thought withers away the moment the doors of The Wreck open again.

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A/N.

cassidy is just a ball of stress, repressed anger and anxiety wrapped together with the string of sanity she has left. hope nothing bad happens to her :)

aaahhh chapter one is here!!!! i'm genuinely so excited to write this fic and for you guys to see it!! now that summer's right around the corner and i'm NEARLY done with exams, i wanted to give this fic a second chance :D

thoughts? comments? predictions? i love to hear your thoughts and i'm just,,,,, vibrating with excitement to write cassidy's story <3

[ Started: Mar 5th, 2023 ]
[ Uploaded: May 8th, 2023 ]
[ Re-uploaded: Nov 27th, 2023 ]

( word count: 5.2k )