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chapter two
THE NOSY NEIGHBOR

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It's about a twenty minute walk from the Marina to Cove's cottage that's tucked neatly down the coast. Hers is one of two that overlooks most of Ivory Point, the lighthouse towering in the distance. As she ventures closer to her screen door, she glances toward the sand-mat, expecting to spy her grandfather's boots. They're not there. Unease creeps into her chest, and she sighs, kicking off her sandy shoes before entering.

Everything looks identical to the early morning when Cove left for the Marina. Her empty breakfast bowl sits in the sink still, accompanied with her grandfather's. His journal remains on the dining table, a pen between the pages to keep his mark before he left for work. He should be home by now. And if he's not, he should be walking right behind Cove on the beaten path.

She tries not to worry as she stalks toward their bathroom. The door creaks and she flicks the yellowing light on, illuminating their ivory walls and sink. Glancing at the bath tub, she debates whether it's worth it to take a quick shower or wait until morning for Reaping Day. It could keep her mind off things.

Cove turns the faucet, cool water spitting awkwardly before eventually falling into a smoother sprinkle. She undresses, kicking away her sandy and smelly clothes that reek of salt and body odor. When she steps under the freezing cold water, she shudders, goosebumps blossoming across her flesh. Perhaps with her Bonus she could put it toward a week's worth of warm running water. Nevertheless, she gets used to it like she always does, scrubbing away the salt and grime with a small bar of soap.

As the water hits her body and the walls of the shower, she swears she can still hear echoes of the Guthrie boys' taunts. A sour taste burns along her tongue and the inside of her cheeks. She scrubs harder, fingernails digging into the bar of soap.

"Not when one of you's are probably going to be Reaped tomorrow."

I'm only in eight times. Marin seven.

"Our names aren't in those bowls anymore! But yours are!"

And thousands of other girls in District Four.

"Sweet dreams, sweethearts!"

The bar of soap goes sailing from her grip as she's scrubbing her right shin, slamming into the wall of the shower. It slips down the base and toward the drain. Clumps of soap have found themselves under her fingernails, crescents marking it in return. Then there's her skin, rubbed so raw it looks like she might have sunburn beneath the suds. The cool water washes it away, revealing a few scratch marks that her nails likely left when they slipped across her leg.

Cove is shuddering again. Her arms wrap around her trembling body as she holds herself beneath the shower. The knots in her stomach don't get tighter, but they don't necessarily loosen either.

This isn't even her first Reaping. In fact, it's her second to last, the six years of terror going surprisingly quickly. Eight times is nothing for a seventeen year old. You're entered in an additional time each birthday, and her and her grandfather only needed tesserae twice this past winter. There are plenty of girls younger than her that have worse odds.

Yet their words still haunt her. Maybe it's because they were so disturbing. She's never heard someone talk about The Reaping like that to another person, it being something every District citizen can silently agree is a terrifying topic meant to never be spoken about. Saying anything along the lines of what the Guthrie boys did, basically outwardly telling someone "I hope you get Reaped!", would be enough to horrify even the cruelest and coldest heart.

Except maybe they are the cruelest and coldest hearts in District Four. That's the only way to explain it. She gnaws on the inside of her cheek, shaking her head silently as she swallows the bitter taste in her mouth. She tries not to let their words get to her. After all, she's made it through six Reapings and is still safe and sound.

Tired of shivering, Cove suddenly turns off the faucet, the water sputtering into silence again. She pulls back the curtain, stepping out and wrapping her body into her blue towel. She takes her dirty clothes back to her room across the hall, tossing them to the side and shutting the door again behind her. Rummaging through her drawers, she finds a pair underwear and old and worn shorts along with one of her father's shirts. She's just finished dressing when she hears voices approaching along the path.

Relief floods through her, and she snatches her damp towel with her, squeezing the water out of her wet hair. The screen door creaks and slams shut as she hears the familiar laugh of her Grandfather. Someone else's choruses with it as well. When she turns the corner, she spots her Grandfather's figure hovering by the counter. He tosses what must be tonight's dinner onto it loudly as he swivels on his heels, still laughing.

"You know, when I was—"

Her Grandfather stops short, cloudy eyes bright and tanned skin wrinkling into one of his famous smiles. "Oh, hey Covey." Brown paper is wrapped around what is most likely fish, it crinkling beneath his grasp. "Sorry I was late. I stopped to get dinner." Then he gestures toward the other figure looming in their kitchen. "Then I ran into Dante, and we walked home together. He was nice enough to listen to all my ramblings."

At that, the boy chuckles lightly, shaking his head. "I wasn't just being nice, they were actually fun to hear. You're going to have to show me how you make your fish hook look like that some time."

"Oh, you betcha. I'll show you tomorrow at your little picnic." Her Grandfather straightens at the reminder. "Cove. The Delmar's invited us over tomorrow evening after the ceremonies. Sounds like—"

"I don't know if we can," Cove interjects, wrapping the towel carefully around the back of her neck just beneath her hair. Her arms fold across her chest as she leans against the kitchen wall. "Marin invited us over for cake. Chocolate. Your favorite."

He straightens, pausing for a moment. Then he shrugs, glancing back toward Dante again. "Well surely we can pop on by. I'll bring over my wild berry pie."

"We'll see if we can," Cove interjects again. She stares at Dante Delmar silently.

If Dante's uncomfortable, he doesn't show it, flashing one of his pleasant and kind smiles again. "Of course. We'd be happy to have you come, even if for a little bit." He extends a hand toward her Grandfather, shaking it firmly. "I'll leave you to making your dinner."

"Thank you. It was good talking to you, young man."

Dante turns toward the screen door, opening it just a crack before he glances over his shoulder. "Cove, could I talk to you outside real quick?"

A pause. She feels her stomach knot again. When she glances toward her grandfather, he's smugly averting her gaze, turning toward the counter. Paper crinkles as he begins to unwrap the fish. Eventually, she props herself off the wall, following Dante. "Sure."

He holds the door for her as they emerge out onto her porch. It slams shut behind them, and when she expects him to stop, he stalks past her and away from the open windows. Sighing, she follows him into her front yard. He eventually stops just beneath their singular oak tree. The cool breeze brushes against the leaves softly.

Dante takes a step closer toward Cove, hovering just a few inches away. She stifles the urge to step back, crossing her arms over her chest instead. His voice is a low whisper as he watches the house. "I caught him wandering around the docks again."

Just at that sentence she feels herself deflate, shoulders sinking and heart twisting. Her eyes fall sadly to her bare feet.

"He said he was trying to come back from Kersey's with the fish, then head home, but got side-tracked..." Cove bites down on her tongue as she forces herself to meet the boy's gaze. His blue eyes peer down at her with sympathy. "He was going the wrong way, but I offered for him to walk with me. I don't know how long he was stuck down there."

She kicks her toe at the grass mindlessly a few times, shaking her head. "That's twice this month he's done that."

"Yeah," he sighs, studying the girl.

"Are you sure he wasn't just looking out at the water? Maybe he wanted to relax with the Reaping tomorrow."

Dante's lips part, ready to deny her hopes, but just looking at her, he must think better of it. She feels herself shrink deeper inside when he stares at her like that. His dirty blonde hair falls into his eyes as he shrugs half-heartedly. She can barely hear him. "Maybe."

The silence seems painfully long. Cove averts Dante's gaze, feeling it burn into her skin. It annoys her. The pity he gives her annoys her. He looks like he might try to hug her, offer some more comforting words, even invite her to his family picnic again, so she does what she always does. Creates more space.

Inhaling sharply, Cove takes a step back, restless hands grabbing onto the towel still around her neck. "Well, thanks for walking him home. I appreciate it."

Dante clears his throat and nods. "Of course. That's what neighbors are for."

She doesn't say anything in return, offering a thin, tight-lipped smile. She makes her way back to her house silently, waiting for Dante to do the same, his cottage only fifty yards away. But of course, she can feel him getting ready to say one more thing.

"I hope you can make it tomorrow," Dante calls. "Both of you."

Cove just nods, refusing to look at him as she steps onto her porch. She puts a thumbs-up in the air before reaching for the screen door. "We'll try."

The door slams behind her again as she emerges into her kitchen. Her Grandfather hovers by the counter, dipping the filet of what is likely cod in flour and other seasonings. It sizzles when he drops it into the pan. Instinctively, Cove looks for plates and silverware, preparing to set the table.

"He's a nice young man," her Grandfather calls over his shoulder. He tosses the smelly brown paper from the fish into the trash. "Very nice."

Cove feels him staring, waiting for a reaction, whether it be a hint of agreement or disagreement. She just nods, setting both the plates in their respective places along the kitchen table. "Mhm."

"He seems to think very highly of you, too." He keeps trying as he reaches into their dying refrigerator, a dull cold breathing from it. He snatches one of their peppers from the produce stands earlier in the week. "Said he's never seen someone surf waves like that before."

"He must not surf very often then," Cove comments, raising her brows.

Just as her Grandfather's washing and cutting the peppers, she stalks toward the stove. With the spatula, she flips the fish, it crackling and sizzling in the pan. One side of it is already a mouthwatering golden. "Well maybe you'll have to take him out for a few waves." His blue eyes glisten, a corner of his lips twitching upward as he shrugs. "Show him how the Carraway's do it."

"If only I could find the time." She stalks toward the fridge again, snatching the pitcher of water. She pours two glasses, inhaling sharply and changing the subject. "My crew and I got the Bonus this week from Ursula."

Her Grandfather nearly chops off his finger at that, whirling around with excitement. Pride beams from him. "That's amazing, Covey. How many bushels?"

"Nine total today." Cove allows herself to grin, trying not to let it get too wide. "We got four in one haul."

His eyes almost bug out of his head. "In one hau—" He shakes his head, blinking in bewilderment. "Holy Mackerel! That's really amazing, Cove. With Rusty out too?"

She nods. "Sully wasn't much help either, so it was just Marin and I.

"You two are quite the duo." He places the sliced peppers on a dish, handing it to Cove. He kisses the top of her head sweetly as she takes them. "And you are quite the fisherman. I'm proud of you."

Another smile tries to tug on her lips, threatening to make her cheeks hurt. She just purses her lips together neatly, allowing a humble grin to take form as she settles in her chair. "Thanks, Grandpa."

Twisting the stove's gauge, he turns it off and places the burning hot pan onto a cool burner. Using the spatula, he carefully balances the freshly cooked fish as he stalks toward the kitchen table, his other hand hovering below in case it drops. It makes it to Cove's plate, and he cuts it in half before scooping up his portion. Steam rolls off the filet and into the air.

"So chocolate cake, huh?" Her Grandfather tosses the spatula into the sink with a soft clang. "I do love a good chocolate cake."

Cove pulls at her fish with her fork. "Yeah, I don't know if they're getting it for sure though."

"That's okay. Like I said, I'll make my wild berry pie to bring over in case. And I promise I won't forget the sugar this time," Grandpa chuckles lightly. Cove forces a smile at the reminder. It was only about six months ago that he had forgotten some of the ingredients for his famous pie, something he's always known by heart. At the time, Cove just hoped it was a silly and fleeting moment of forgetfulness, something everyone is bound to experience every now and then. Now, fleeting moments like that one have become more and more frequent.

She clears her throat, trying to shift the conversation from post-Reaping activities. "I saw a Blue Shark today too." Her Grandfather straightens as he peers at her thoughtfully. She shrugs again. "Must've been curious, it just swam right up to me."

Grandpa raises his brows at that. "Wow." His blue eyes fall to his plate. "You know, those were your dad's favorite."

"Yeah," she murmurs. A memory tries to resurface in her brain, one from a happier time. A Sunday a thousand Sundays ago, the sailboat bobbing steadily but slowly in the sea. They weren't even far out enough to see one, but sure enough, a Blue Shark and her pup swam right alongside Cove and her father's boat. She can still see the amusement in his eyes and hear the fascination in his tone that bubbled excitement in her chest too. "I remember."

"Your grandmother would've said that was a sign." Grandpa glances up, the clouds in his blue gaze slowly clearing. He smiles lightly again, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the movement.

Cove quirks a curious brow. "A sign for what?"

"A sign that he's still watching over you."

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At two in the morning, Cove is still lying awake in her bed, thinking about nothing but Blue Sharks. Particularly, the one that was brave and curious enough to swim up to her in the water earlier. She knew something about it felt surreal. Even though she couldn't see beneath the wetsuit, she knew there were goosebumps trailing along her flesh as she floated breathlessly.

The way it swam up to her. The way it looked at her. The way it bowed at her.

Her grandfather's words ring through her skull like a broken record. "A sign that he's still watching over you." The idea of that makes her feel safe and terrified all at once. It's been seven years since her father passed, and even though she's gotten better at masking it, recovering from his loss hasn't gotten easier.

There's something healing and triggering about the thought of him watching over her from wherever his soul went after it left his body. Peace and turmoil continue the seven-year war inside her body.

He was supposed to be safe with us.

She's sweating, the thin sheet clinging to her uncomfortably and both sides of her pillow annoyingly warm. Despite having the window open, a light breeze blowing through, Cove can't seem to find comfort. In fact, she just can't take it anymore. Huffing, she throws the sheet off her body. Even the glossy wooden floor is warm as she stalks across her room quickly but quietly.

Cove opens her door carefully, tip toeing past her Grandfather's room and down the hall. His snoring seems to echo. Moonlight shines through the windows of her home, illuminating her path enough as she navigate toward the kitchen. Her hair clings to the back of her neck, and irritation ripples down her spine.

The only thing that seems to bring her relief from the stuffy air of her home is the cool night breeze. She holds onto the screen door to keep it from slamming, slowly closing it behind her as softly as she can. Once it's shut, she stalks across her porch and onto the thick tufts of grass. The emerald blades tickle her bare feet with each stride.

Half of the moon hangs in the sky, casting an ivory glow to the world below. Cove follows it to one of her favorite spots. When she glances back toward her home, it's still dark, her Grandfather sound asleep. That isn't surprising. Then she peers over at the Delmar cottage. All the lights are off as well.

Going to the Lookout with her Grandmother is one of Cove's earliest memories. She's a blurry face, blonde hair beginning to gray as it blew wildly in the ocean air. She had died when Cove was almost four from an unexpected heart attack. By her fifth birthday, her mother would leave her too, except by her own choice. She imagines she slipped away into the September night just like she has now.

Cove rounds a large boulder nicknamed Castaway Rock, signaling she's arrived to the Lookout only one hundred and fifty yards from her cottage. The locals of Ivory Point coined the name decades ago, probably when her Grandfather was just her age. A ship had gone down in the night, and everyone of the crew was spotted from the Lighthouse except one. They assumed he was lost, drowned or eaten. But a woman standing right where Cove is now spotted the castaway, saving his life when it seemed no one— not even those at the top of the Lighthouse— could bring him home.

Her gaze prepares to search the illuminated coastline when she's met with someone's silhouette instead. Cove nearly jumps into the air, stifling a gasp as her feet slide against the dirt and pebbles beneath.

Startled, the figure whirls around, rocks scraping beneath him as well. His wide blue eyes replace her surprise with recognition and mild annoyance. Both of their chests heave.

"Sorry." Cove licks her lips, blinking over and over. "I didn't think anyone else would be out here."

Dante shakes his head and shrugs, inhaling sharply. "Guess I'm not the only one who can't sleep."

Cove hovers for a moment, rocking back and forth on her heels as she debates turning around for home or just finding a new place to watch the horizon. Just as her lips part to excuse herself, Dante gently pats the dirt beside him. "You can join me, if you'd like." He smiles a small and light smile. "Plenty of room."

A pause. Variations of "no thank you" dance on her tongue, but never pass her lips. She sucks in a breath, nodding as she carefully makes her way toward the ledge. The dirt is cool beneath the flesh of her thighs. She sits with her knees bent and pressed to her chest, arms locked around them carefully. Neither of them say anything, just stare out at the ocean. If it weren't for the moon, it might just look like an indigo abyss, no sign of where the earth ends and heaven begins.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Something in the air tells them it's just what both of them need. A common and silent understanding between the two regarding the terror that dawn brings, both anxiously waiting for crimson to paint the horizon. Watching the rhythm of the water soothes both their nerves.

Dante sucks in a breath. He hesitates, and Cove just sits there stiffly, waiting for him to break the silence. "Yoli has been a mess all week. She's only in twice, since it's her second Reaping and all." He shrugs, pinching a nearby pebble between his fingers. He draws mindless circles in the dirt. "Nothing I say seems to be helping."

The blonde adjusts her grip around her knees, the curve of her spine starting to ache. "How many times are you in?"

"Ten." Another circle in the dirt, a line going through it diagonally. "Seven plus the three times I took Tesserae for us. I don't let my sisters take it." She feels his stare peeking over at her. "What about you?"

"Eight. The fishing was scarcer this year, making the pay less."

"Are you scared?"

She still refuses to meet his gaze as she gives a half-hearted shrug. The Guthrie boys' taunts still won't leave her alone. "A little. I try not to think about it."

"Hm." His arm jerks as he softly lobs the pebble over the Lookout, it bouncing down the hill. "I'll have to tell Yoli that, maybe that'll make her feel better."

"To not think about it?" Cove finally glances over at him, raising a curious brow.

"No." A corner of his lips twitch upward. The moon brightens in his blue eyes. "That you're a little scared too."

The girl scrunches her nose and shakes her head. "How would that help?"

"Well, she looks up to you. Maybe if she realizes everyone is scared, including you, she won't be so afraid."

Cove lets an incredulous smile slip onto her features at the idea, blinking over and over again. She leans back onto her palms and stretches her legs out, crossing them at her ankles. They dangle gently over the hill. "I don't know if I've ever really hung out with your sister or talked to her that much. What do you mean she looks up to me?"

"She just thinks you're cool, I guess. What you do for work and all." He rubs the dirt off his hand onto his shorts. "Watches you surf too."

The girl studies him quietly, trying to remember past conversations with Yoli and his other sisters. She maybe sees them in the yard on her walk home from work every now and then, bidding polite hello's and mild small talk. His older sister is off and married with a baby of her own, Cove sometimes noticing her husband at the Marina. His other two sisters, the twins, are a year below her in school. Lola and Luisa. But other than that, the most Cove ever interacts with the Delmar's is with Dante, who always seems to stick his nose in her and Grandfather's business. Something she knows the latter doesn't mind at all.

She sighs through her nose as she gazes back out at the water. White ripples glisten and dance in the darkness. "Didn't know I had an admirer."

"Doesn't surprise me," Dante replies. She glances back over at him, but he's not looking at her anymore. "They say you're a pretty good surfer."

A quirk of a brow. "Is that what they say?"

"That's what I've heard," he smiles, shadows of dimples appearing on his features. His blue eyes beam as he glances over at her. He mirrors her position, leaning back on his palms behind him and stretching out his legs. "My uncle made me a board once. Do you think you could show me some time?"

Just when she feels herself loosening, staring at his dimples a little too long, she turns away from his gaze again. She sways her right ankle side to side as it dangles over the ledge. "Don't know if I have the time, really."

"You could show me at our picnic tomorrow." Dante's shoulder nudges hers gently, making her spine straighten. "I promise I'll keep up. If I get lost in the swell you won't even have to look for me. May the odds be ever in my favor."

"That's not a funny joke," Cove chastises with a frown.

Dante lets a short, breathy but remorseful laugh fall from his lips. "Sorry. Not the best timing."

"Timing is one of the most important things for surfing, you know." She peeks up at him, gnawing on her bottom lip. Cove feels herself hesitating, two little girls inside her demanding to be seen and heard. One that's lonely, and one that is scared to be lonely again. She usually gives in to the latter. The way Dante watches her makes her feel like she's made of glass, completely see through.

He keeps waiting, eventually nodding and urging her to speak her mind. "Thanks for the tip. Any more?"

"Yep." Cove's right palm slips slightly on the dirt, elbow and wrist growing tired from her body weight. At least, that's what she tells herself is the reason for her shoulder gently grazing his. It doesn't help she's still awake at such a late hour. She looks back out at the horizon. Dante's stare bores into her.

"Best time to surf is sunrise."

The corners of his mouth turns upward as he nods, following her gaze back out to the dark horizon. "Good to know."

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thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed! feel free to comment, i love hearing from you :)

opinions? thoughts on cove, her grandfather, dante? as you can tell, cove is a very avoidant type kinda gal with some nasty abandonment wounds. i'm excited for you to see her progress throughout her story!

here's a crackship gif of dante and cove because i just can't help myself! platonic, romantic, i don't know we will have to see! ;)

Word Count: 4377

cove and dante

cove and her grandpa

cove and marin (so convenient casting actresses who play friends in another show whew)