Before Sarah left my house earlier she gave me her number and her address and told me to meet her at her house at 7PM. So this evening I showered, got dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a cropped blue t-shirt. I almost inhaled my dinner before heading out the door and cycling over to Sarah's house.

What I hadn't quite anticipated is her house is about the size of the White House.

I knew her family were rich, and I knew she lived in a gated house, but I had no clue that she lived in a house as impressive as this. It's got massive windows and the front door is a glass double door. It looks like the sort of house that my friends and I would've either avoided like the plague or ended up working for the owners.

I've been hesitating for the last five minutes about whether or not to press the intercom, not really sure how to act. My anxious brain has been asking me ridiculously unhelpful questions, will a member of staff open the door? Will her father send me away because I grew up on the cut? Do I have to take my shoes off in the house?

Eventually I just press the buzzer, waiting for someone to talk back to me, and soon enough I hear a fuzzy voice.

"Cameron residence, what's your name?" An unrecognisable voice, most likely their private security, answers.

"Sidney Monroe." I answer quickly.

"Who are you here to see?" The voice asks.

"Sarah Cameron." I reply.

"Okay, make your way up to the front door, thank you." The voice replies as the gate begins to open slowly.

I pace up the driveway slowly, feeling very small surrounded by all these trees. And of course, being on Figure Eight now, a lack of electricity isn't something that I have to be concerned about.

As I approach the front door, Sarah appears, a big smile on her face. It seems like we got the memo for comfy clothes as she's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a black top.

"Hey, did you get here okay?" She asks as she wraps me in a hug.

"Yeah, it was fine, cycling through figure eight is much easier than I assumed it would be, you guys have actual tarmacked roads." I reply, realising how mundane it probably sounds, but I don't want to say something stupid about how big her house is.

"Come inside, just leave your bike there," She gestures to a nearby tree, so I do as she says before following her in, closing the door behind me.

"You've got a lovely home," I smile as she leads me into the grand foyer area that can hardly be called a hallway.

"I hate it," She sighs with honesty, "It's so over the top, and I can't stand being home alone here."

"Is it just us here tonight then?" I ask as she leads me down a spiral staircase to the basement.

"No, Wheezie and Rafe are both upstairs in their rooms," She tells me as we arrive in the basement, "Dad and Rose are out at some sort of fundraiser dinner on the mainland."

"Right," I nod as she puts a key in the lock of an old wooden door, unlocking it to reveal a proper wine cellar, probably stacked with wine from every wine from the last forty decades, "Do you know anything about wine?"

"No, I just know that it's good for getting drunk," She smiles, grabbing several random bottles, handing me two and clinging onto two herself, "We can always come back downstairs for more if we need to."

"Good idea," I nod, watching as she locks the wine cellar and leads me back upstairs to a long corridor lined with various closed doors, which I assume are bedrooms.

"Here we go," She sighs, pushing a door open to reveal a nicely decorated bedroom with a double bed, and a large wardrobe and dressing table.

"Do you normally drink wine?" She asks as we both take a seat on the pristinely made bed.

"Beer or spirits normally," I tell her, "Wine isn't something pogues really bother with, but I'm willing to try it."

"You'll like this one," She assures me, pulling out the cork and handing me the bottle, "It's quite sweet, you wouldn't know it's red wine."

I take a swig from the bottle, letting the liquid coat my throat, before putting the bottle down "That is pretty good." I smile.

"See!" She exclaims, "So, have you thought about what to wear to Midsummers?"

"Mum and I are going shopping in a few days I think," I explain, "She's pretty excited about our new life on Figure Eight."

"Do you know what colour you'll be wearing?" She asks, taking a gulp from her bottle of wine as I do the same.

"I've always felt like green is my colour," I explain, "And I feel like at these events it's probably best to wear something you're happy in."

"Definitely," She nods, "Now, have you thought any more about your hair?"

"Yeah," I say with assurance in my voice, "I want to do full blonde, is that stupid?"

"Not at all!" She exclaims, "It's going to burn your scalp like a bitch, just prepare yourself for that."

"Guess I'll just have to drink more wine then, won't I?" I grin, taking another swig of the expensive tasting wine.

"Okay we can use my bathroom, my dad will kill me if I get bleach on the sheets or the floor." She tells me, opening the door to her en suite.

"Is it bad that I've nearly finished half of this." I smile, holding up the bottle, already feeling slightly tipsy.

"That's what it's for Sidney." She grins, rummaging in her bathroom cabinet.

"Have you done this before?" I ask, slightly apprehensive about the fact I've agreed to this.

"Loads of times," She nods, handing me an old towel, "Just put this over your shoulders to protect your top."

I put the towel over my shoulders and take a seat on the stool beside the bathtub as Sarah begins mixing up her light bleach concoction. I suppose the fact that she has all this stuff in her bathroom is a good sign, she clearly knows what she's doing, and it's much cheaper than a hair salon.

"Do you want it to look more natural or more dramatic, like a statement?" She asks, looking at me through the mirror.

"Natural, definitely," I nod as she stands behind me and ties up the top half of my hair.

"Okay let's do this," She smiles, dipping the brush into the bleach and applying it to my hair, "There's no going back now."

I watch our reflection in the mirror, observing how she carefully paints the bleach onto my hair, despite the amount of wine she's had. It feels weirdly cathartic to be doing something like this with someone I've only just met properly. I feel like living on the cut I found it very easy to become comfortable with the way things were, but being on Figure Eight is a challenge I never imagined I'd have to face, but now that I'm here it's less painful than I expected it to be.

"Are you okay?" Sarah pats my shoulder, "You just zoned out for a minute."

"Yeah," I nod, "I'm just thinking about how different my life was a week ago."

"I can imagine this all feels pretty weird," She sighs, layering more bleach onto my hair, "I've always hated the whole kooks versus pogues thing, it just feels so pointless."

"I know what you mean," I reply, "I'm partially convinced that the boys use it as an excuse to throw punches at each other."

"I think I have to agree," She grins as I take another large sip of wine, "I don't even know what started the divide anyway."

"Me neither, and my family have been on the Outer Banks for like eighty years." I sigh, watching as Sarah unclips the top section of my hair, ready to begin bleaching it.

"I think mine have been here a bit less than that," She tells me, "And I'm pretty sure my Dad grew up on the cut."

"Really?" I exclaim, drinking more wine, "I never imagined Ward Cameron being a pogue."

"I know, it's crazy," She laughs, "Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"

"Probably not." I shake my head.

"Well there's this party, with a pool, you should come." She smiles.

The idea of a kook party makes me anxious, none of them have any reason to like me, so why would they? I'm just a pogue who's family bought a house on Figure Eight, that doesn't make me one of them.

"Hey, you're doing that thing again." Sarah nudges me.

"What thing?" I ask innocently.

"The zoning out, deep thinking thing," She tells me, "What's on your mind?"

"I'm just not sure anyone will want me there," I sigh, taking a tentative sip of wine, "I'm still very much a pogue."

"I want you there," Sarah assures me, applying more bleach to my hair, "And once they have a chance to meet you, they'll like you, just like I do."

"You think?" I ask.

"I know," She grins, "You don't give a shit about the materialistic stuff, you just appreciate people for who they are, and there's not enough of that on this side of the island, so please don't change, ever."

"I appreciate you saying that." I smile.

"So are you going to come?" She asks eagerly.

"Okay! I'll come!" I exclaim, cheersing my wine bottle with hers before taking another drink.

"Amazing, well I've finished putting the bleach on, now we've just got to wait for it to do its thing, so more wine?" She says, grabbing another bottle from the counter.

After about thirty minutes and making our way through another bottle of wine between us Sarah declares that it's time to rinse the bleach out, leading me over to the bath and grabbing the shower head. I tip my head over the side of the bath and let her wash the bleach from my hair, running her hand through my hair.

After about five minutes of feeling close to being waterboarded with my head over the bath, Sarah turns the shower head off, puts some toning stuff on my hair and then rinses it off before roughly towel drying my hair.

"All done," She says in a sing-song voice, definitely approaching the fine line between being tipsy and drunk, "Do you like it?"

I look at my reflection in the mirror, and in some ways I feel like the same person, but in others I don't. I feel like this suits my take no shit attitude better than my natural hair, but I also think I look less like a pogue, and that's not what I intended.

"I actually really like it," I smile, "It feels more me."

"Fuck yeah," Sarah grins, "Do you want me to style it for you?"

"No it's okay, I'm happy letting it dry naturally so my curls come through rather than going frizzy." I insist as my phone buzzes on the counter. I pick it up to see a message from JJ.

JJ: We need you at the chateau, John B is freaking out.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, I've got to go." I explain to her, stumbling as I hand her the towel, quickly realising the alcohol has actually affected me.

"Is everything okay?" She asks as I rush into the bedroom.

"My friends need me," I tell her, "I'm so sorry to leave early."

"It's fine," She insists, "Are you going to be okay getting to the cut?"

"I've cycled drunker than this," I tell her, leaning against her drawers, "I'll just text you when I get there."

"Only if you're sure." She says.

"I am," I nod, grabbing the door handle, "Thank you so much for doing this, by the way." I gesture to my hair before opening the door and heading out into the hallway closing it behind me.

I tiptoe down the hallway, doing my best not to disturb anyone, while also attempting to maintain my balance thanks to the amount I've wine I have consumed.

I manage to make my way down the stairs safely, but as I reach the console table, I lose my footing, grabbing onto the edge of it, making it rattle loudly, the sound echoing throughout the room.

As I make my way towards the front door I hear the sound of a door behind me opening, so rather than turning around to see who's opening it, I continue walking towards the front door.

"What are you doing in my house, pook?" A vaguely familiar voice asks, stopping me in my tracks, "And what's happened to your hair?"

"I was visiting Sarah, she bleached my hair for me," I reply, keeping my eyes on the door in front of me, "But I've got to leave to go check on my friends."

"Is that right?" He replies, his footsteps echoing throughout the space as he closes in on me.

"Mmhmm," I spin around, almost slipping as I look up to see Rafe Cameron standing in front of me with an intrigued grin, "So if you don't mind, I'm going to get on my bike and cycle down to the cut."

"Walk in a straight line." He says, folding his arms across his chest, "I could hear you and Sarah laughing like hyenas from my room, and I know Sarah has a key to the wine cellar, so I don't think you're in any state to be cycling across the island."

"Well then I'll walk." I insist, mirroring his stance and folding my arms across my chest.

"If something happens to you and the pogues found out you were here beforehand, they would probably try and murder me knowing I let you walk drunk in the dark." He explains, and he does unfortunately make a valid point.

"Would you rather I hitchhike?" I ask, taking a step closer to try and prove I am in fact sober, yet I fail and rock slightly.

"I was just about to head out when I heard you clattering about, and you're lucky because I'm heading that way to see a friend." He tells me, grabbing his keys from the dish on the console table.

"Rafe Cameron has friends on the cut?" I smirk, flitting my eyes over his face, "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Or you could just say yes and get in the car, then both of us can get to where we want to be a lot quicker." He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, that works," I nod in agreement.

"Great," He sighs, opening the front door, "Let's go then."

He holds the door open for me before closing the door and unlocking the large Range Rover on the driveway, climbing into the driver's seat as I climb into the passenger's seat.

"Seatbelt." He says firmly, putting his key in the ignition.

"Yes boss." I say with a salute, grabbing the seatbelt and fastening it.

"I heard what happened at the kegger the other night," He sighs as he begins driving down the driveway, "You're still pretty bruised up."

"You should see the other guy." I sigh with a smile, staring straight ahead at the road in front of us.

"I also heard that you've got quite the lethal tongue," He adds, with a tight grip on his steering wheel.

"Who told you about that?" I ask, glancing at him, to see that his gaze is already on me.

"Who do you think?" He scoffs, turning onto the main road and increasing his speed slightly, "Topper hasn't stopped talking about it, you must've got under his skin."

"Wouldn't you like to know." I smirk, shuffling in my seat to get more comfortable.

"And you just let my sister give you a makeover?" He continues as we leave Figure Eight, heading into the bit of the island that remains a deserted cultural no man's land, as neither side of the island seems bothered about doing anything with it.

"It just feels more like me," I explain, having quickly decided I do in fact like my new look.

"If you say so." He mutters, taking the turning towards the cut.

"You don't sound convinced," I glance at him, observing how he repeatedly clenches and relaxes his jaw, "You don't like it do you?"

"I didn't say that." He says.

"So you do like it." I grin, flicking the car radio on and changing it to an indie station that me and my parents always play, the gentle hum of Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division fills the car.

"God, you're almost as annoying as Sarah when you're drunk." He mutters, turning the radio off.

"You're forgetting I've seen you drunk, multiple times at the surf bar." I sigh, turning the radio back on.

"That's different, I didn't annoy you." He says, turning the radio off again.

"That's debatable." I sigh, turning the radio back on.

"So why didn't you say anything?" He asks me, turning the radio off.

"Because you were an intimidating kook." I huff.

"Were?" He glances at me, "So you're not scared of me now?"

"I'm fucking terrified," I tease with a grin.

"Good to know." He nods, stifling his smile.

"Don't you like this song?" I ask, turning the radio back on, "It's a good song."

"And it's my car, so the radio stays off." He says firmly, turning the radio back off.

"Alright," I huff, realising that we've already made it into the cut, "You can just drop me off here, I'll walk the rest of the way, it's not far."

"That's not going to happen," He mutters, "I know where John B lives, I'll drop you there."

"Because they're not going to be suspicious when your big shiny Range Rover pulls up outside the house?" I look at him as he continues to drive through the cut.

"You just don't want them knowing that you've been hanging out with kooks do you?" He smirks.

"I didn't say that." I mutter, staring out the passenger window.

"But you know deep down that they won't be happy that you've been at my house, and I've driven you across the island, don't you?" He says, and I hate the fact that he's said exactly what I'm thinking.

"I wasn't hanging out with you, I was with Sarah, which they'd probably be less bothered about." I tell him.

"We both know that's not true, because we both know Sarah and Kiara can't stand each other." Rafe says.

"You're annoyingly good at this psychological shit." I sigh as Rafe pulls up outside the chateau.

"It's been said." He smirks.

"No it hasn't," I reply, unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the passenger door, "Thanks for the lift."

"Anytime Pook." He says as I slam the door shut, walking up to John B's house, the sound of conversation is faint as I walk around to the porch, seeing JJ, Pope and Kiara sitting out on the steps.

"Sid?" JJ exclaims, "Your hair is-"

"That's not important right now, where's John B?" I ask them.

"His Dad's office." Pope tells me.

I know why they called me, and I know what John B is dealing with right now. They called me because they don't know how to talk to him about his dad, and they called me because my sister has been missing for six months, so I suppose they think I can get through to him.

I head into the house, all the lights are turned off as I push the office door open, to see John B sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his head on his knees. The entire room is a mess, and although Big John rarely let any of us in here, it was never this messy.

"Hi." I whisper, closing the door slowly and making my way towards him, broken glass crunching under my feet.

"What are you doing here?" He asks softly as I sit down beside him.

"We're both part of the missing loved ones club," I sigh, trying to make light of the situation, "JJ texted me."

"Did they tell you what I found?" He looks at me, the bruise Topper gave him looking far worse than mine.

"No." I shake my head.

"My Dad engraved Redfield on the inside of the compass, and I'm convinced he left it for me to find," He explains, "But they all think I'm chasing stupid fantasies, but I know my Dad, this isn't a coincidence."

"I don't think it's stupid John B, and I don't think it's a fantasy, and I think if Maggie left me something like this, I'd be investigating the shit out of it." I tell him.

"I've got an idea, but it could be stupid." He sighs.

"There's no such thing as a stupid idea, tell me." I assure him, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"I don't think Redfield is a place, we went to the lighthouse, and that was a dead end, and I got arrested," He begins to explain.

"You got arrested?" I gasp.

"That's not important," He rambles, "I think Redfield is a person, and I think we'll find what we're looking for at the graveyard."

"Have you mentioned this to the others?" I ask him.

"No, I thought they'd say I was being stupid." He sighs.

"Well let's go tell them we're going on a road trip." I tell him.

"Are you sure?" He asks as I stand up.

"I've never been more sure." I insist as he stands up.

"You changed your hair?" He says as we head back out to the porch.

"I just fancied a change." I smile, joining the others, "Shake a leg kids, we're going on a road trip."

"Where?" Kiara asks as John B and I stand in front of them.

"The Graveyard." I say like it's nothing.

"Did John B actually explain how much he's had to deal with today, Sid?" JJ asks, "I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"It was my idea, J." John B tells him.

"What else has happened today?" I ask the group.

"John B got fired." Kiara tells me.

"He also got chased by thugs." Pope adds.

"And arrested." JJ says.

"So not much really," John B exhales, heading for the twinkie, "You guys coming?"

We all nod in agreement, climbing into the van, John B and Kiara up front, with Pope, JJ and I in the back.

"So why are we going to the graveyard?" Kiara asks John B as we head onto the road.

"I don't think Redfield is a place, I think it's a person," John B explains, "And I think the graveyard is where we'll get our answers."

"You think your dad is hiding in a grave?" JJ speaks up.

"Obviously he doesn't." Pope hisses.

"You want a puff of this?" JJ asks me, holding a spliff in front of me, "First puff is the best puff."

"You know how to treat a lady, don't you?" I smirk, ignoring the chaos unfolding amongst us, taking the joint from his hand and taking a deep inhale and exhale before handing it back to him.

"You know todays been a pretty crazy day, I might just sit this one out," JJ sighs, taking a large puff of the spliff before holding it out in front of Pope, "You want some Pope?"

"I'm going to keep my head clear, thanks." Pope says, focusing his gaze outside the window.

"Just me and you then Sid." JJ grins, placing the spliff in between my lips as I take another quick puff.

"You two take it slow," Kiara tells us from the front seat, "We don't need you rolling around stoned."

"So, how did you get to the chateau?" JJ asks.

"I got a taxi." I lie, handing JJ the joint.

"Do taxi drivers drive Range Rovers these days?" Pope asks, "I saw you getting out through the window."

"Evidently, yes." I giggle, not caring about the mixture of weed and wine in my system.

"How are you already stoned?" JJ asks as I rest my head on his shoulder.

"I'm not," I whisper, "I had a bit too much wine earlier and I don't think it agrees with the wine."

"Since when did you drink wine?" JJ asks, also whispering.

"Since I moved to Figure Eight," I grin, "Obviously."

"There's no way we can take her home like this." Pope addresses the group.

"She can stay at the chateau." John B says as we arrive outside the graveyard.

"JJ, you need to stay here and look after Sidney, we'll be as quick as we can." Kiara tells him.

"Why me?" JJ exclaims.

"Because you got her into this mess!" She whisper-shouts.

"Okay!" JJ holds his hands up in innocence, "I'll stay."

The rest of the group close the van door, leaving JJ and I, my head still resting on his shoulder.

"You okay?" JJ asks, nudging me gently.

"You're a good man, J," I mutter, "A really good man."

"I don't think that's true." JJ whispers, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Shush!" I exclaim, pressing my index finger against his mouth, "It is true, and we both know it."

"Do you think living on Figure Eight will change you?" He asks as I sit up straight.

"I hope it doesn't," I sigh, "It's just a place, I don't get why where we live supposedly defines who we are."

"Because the kooks are dicks?" JJ replies, "And they'd still be dicks if they lived on the cut."

"You think?" I say, lying down across the seat and resting my converse clad feet on JJ's lap.

"I know," He nods, resting his hand on my ankle, "A leopard can't change its spots, Sid, and neither can a kook."

"If you say so." I whisper, closing my eyes.

I open my eyes to the frantic sound of Pope, Kiara and John B jumping back into the twinkie. I sit up to see them all, JJ looking as confused as me as John B puts his foot on the pedal and begins to drive.

"What is it?" I mutter, wiping my eyes.

"There was something there." Pope exhales.

"What?" JJ and I ask in unison.

"An envelope for John B, from his Dad."

The second we get back to the chateau we all rush into Big John's office, surrounding John B as he opens the envelope from the graveyard.

He pulls out a folded piece of paper, unfolding to reveal a large map of the Outer Banks.

"X marks the spot." Pope declares, pointing to the X drawn on the map.

"There's something else in here." John B mutters, pulling a dictaphone out of the envelope. He presses the play button and the sound of Big John's familiar yet distant voice fills the room.

"Dear Bird." His voice comes through the speaker.

"Who's Bird?" JJ asks.

"That's what my Dad called me." John B replies softly.

"I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so, and you doubted your old man. I suspect at this moment you're filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight, but don't kill yourself just yet kid. I didn't expect to find the merchant either."

"You were probably right to call me out, I was hardly father of the decade. What can I say kid, I could smell the barn. Hopefully we're listening to this in our brand new sugar shack down in Costa Rica, living off passive investments and pulling off permits, if not and you find this for less than optimal reasons, we'll that's what the map's for. There she is, the wreck of The Merchant."

"If something happens to me, finish what I started. Go for the gold kid. I love you Bird, even if I didn't always act like it."

As the audio stops John B breaks down in tears, standing up from his chair and clinging onto the doorframe, the rest of us in sobering shock at what we've all just heard.

"He did it, he found it." JJ exclaims.

"Not now," Kiara whispers.

I walk carefully towards John B, feeling bone dry sober in comparison to half an hour ago as I wrap my arms around him, trying to hold in the tears as I listen to his guttural sobs.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, nestling his head in my neck as he continues to sob, I try to steady him, holding onto his waist as he slowly stops crying.

A little while later we all make our way down to the deck, I spun a story to my parents about staying the night at Sarah's over text, so I can stay here with the friends who need me.

"How much was it again?" JJ asks.

"Four hundred mil." Pope says.

"Let's discuss the split." JJ continues.

"What are you going to do with yours, Pope?" Kiara asks.

"Pay for college in advance." He nods concisely.

"What would you do Sid?" JJ asks me.

"I'd try and find Maggie," I sigh, not wanting to dampen the mood, "Because wherever she is, I just want answers, and I want to know that she's okay."

"I know what I'm going to do," JJ says as he squeezes my hand, ready to no doubt lighten the mood, "I'm gonna get a big ass house on figure eight and go full kook."

"You're going full kook?" Pope replies.

"Hell yeah." JJ smiles.

"What about you, JB?" Pope asks.

"To going full kook." John B smiles tentatively.

"To going full kook." We exclaim, cheersing our drinks.

If only Sidney had known how literal that statement could be.

authors note: this might be my favourite chapter so far! already obsessed with rafe and sidney's dynamic.