chapter two ╱ fresh out the slammer

          Juliette is paranoid the whole walk to the Boneyard. She keeps looking over her shoulder, eyes darting around as though her father might leap from the shadows and drag her home. Every slight sound makes her flinch ⎯ a rustling leaf, distant bark, and especially passing cars. The humid twilight clings to her skin like a damp shroud, but a cold shiver runs down her spine, born of fear and the audacity of what she's doing.

Eventually, the sidewalk changes into sand, and she is walking down the beach, towards a distant bonfire surrounded by teens. With every step, her fears begins to melt into thrill.

Everyone is talking in groups or pairs, mingling with an ease that makes Juliette feel like an outsider before she has even fully entered the party. Either the faint bass of someone's portable speaker has hypnotized them all, or she is simply too far removed to know how to behave in a scene like this.

The warmth of the fire hits her skin as she approaches, and people are already turning heads. She recognizes most Kooks from school. It's strange to see some of them outside classrooms, dressed in casual clothing.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" a voice exclaims, laughing in disbelief. It can only belong to one person. "There's no way! No way bro."

Juliette turns. "Hey, Topper," she greets with a clipped, dry tone.

Topper grins, gesturing for her to join his group of friends. His words have caught some of the crowd's attention, and the weight of their barely concealed murmurs and stares presses down on her.

"Juliette Laurent, come to grace us commonfolk with her presence for the very first time?"

She raises a brow, unimpressed. "Don't make it weird," she replies, crossing her arms loosely over her stomach.

He gestures to his group of friends again, an open invitation. The drink inside the solo cup he holds sloshes, nearly spilling over. "That's my bad. Want a drink?"

Juliette can almost see the rest of her night playing out like a hazy, feverish reel. Eyes gleaming, she strides towards Topper's group, visualizing herself washed clean, screaming down to the circles of Hell that she is finally soaped and pure.

She cradles this dream with shaking hands as she lifts her drink to her lips, which one of the other boys ⎯ Kelce ⎯ handed her instantly as she approached. Sarah greets Juliette with a tight half-hug, looking effortlessly put together and undone.

"Julie!" Sarah exclaims, her entire face lighting up like the summer sun. Standing so close to her, Juliette suddenly feels like the embodiment of a desolate, dead winter. "I haven't seen you in forever ⎯ how have you been?"

Juliette desperately tries to soak in her warmth and reciprocate the same enthusiasm. "So good!" she lies with a smile, "I've been helping out my dad with business, but I'm glad I'm out tonight." She laughs lightly, the sound hollow to her ears.

Sarah doesn't seem to notice. "Same old you," she teases with a little eye roll. "Always working. I can't believe you're letting loose for once!"

Before Juliette can respond, Topper reappears, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Don't worry, Sarah. We'll make sure she has fun tonight."

His words freeze her in place. Juliette silently curses, convinced she's overthinking again, letting her own pessimism spiral out of control. She forces herself to appear calm, even as her heart pounds violently in her chest. But the attempt feels futile ⎯ she knows there's no antidote for the poison of her own thoughts.

Topper and Sarah roll their eyes, seeing right through her forced smile and too-stiff nod.

Juliette exhales, her mask clearly too thin to fool anyone. Kenneth Laurent never hesitates to point out how much she resembles her mother up close: eyes wide and burdened by every emotion, brows perpetually drawn tight, and lips pursed at even the faintest flicker of discontent. She might look like her father, but she's built from her mother's marrow ⎯ a fact Kenneth has always resented.

Sarah and Topper are looking at each other, wearing shit-eating grins and somehow communicating with nothing but facial expressions and slight nods.

"What is happening here?" Juliette asks with a nervous laugh, genuinely confused.

Sarah and Topper exchange one last conspiratorial glance before Topper says, "You're not leaving this party without at least one crazy moment," he says, almost too eagerly.

Crazy? The word itself is enough to make her start to panic. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sarah throws an arm around Juliette's shoulders and they guide her closer to shore, at the edges of the party. With a dazzling grin, she points upwards at a cliff. "See those boulders?"

"That's a mountain," she answers flatly.

"We call it Pirate's Cove," Sarah says. "There's a smaller beach on the other side. Nobody ever goes there since the tide is always high on that side. But on this side?" That shit-eating grin reappears. "It's a lookout point for Tourons. For us? It's a classic cliff diving spot."

Horror overtakes Juliette's face, her fingers curling inward as her nails dig into her palms. "No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Come on, Julie," Topper laughs. "Live a little!"

"I'm alive right now," Juliette insists, but the words feel foreign on her tongue, heavy with the bitter aftertaste of a lie.

He gives her an incredulous look, feigning hurt as he dramatically shakes his head. "Okay, now, we both know that isn't the same."

Sarah nods, staring up at the lookout point. It must be about twenty-five to thirty feet high. "I haven't done it yet. I will though, if you do it with me."

Juliette can't believe she's even considering it now. She says without thinking, "What about you, Thornton? Or are you just all big talk?"

"Me?" Topper laughs. "You don't have to ask me twice, Julie. Are you in or what?"

For a moment, she forgets to breathe. Her mind drifts to her father, whose shadow lingers like phantom manacles locked around her wrists. But then Topper quirks an eyebrow, and Juliette ruminates being a little selfish, for once.

"Hell yeah," she grins, absolutely terrified.

The three teens run down the beach, ditching their drinks in the sand and slowly climbing up the massive boulders to the edge of the lookout point. They slip several times along the way, shouting and shrieking with laughter. Sarah and Juliette link arms, pulling each other up the unmarked paths.

Faces flushed, the three kids stand at the edge of the cliff. They've attracted a small crowd from the party, who now wave their arms and cheer them on.

"Ready?" Sarah shouts excitedly. Her blonde hair whips in the wind, all sun-glossed, while sand and salt clings to her skin. Her eyes glint at Juliette, which seem to say: Welcome to Paradise. Is it everything you imagined?

"Countdown?" Topper suggests.

"Okay," Sarah says, nodding. "Three... two..."

Juliette doesn't even think when she leaps first.

It's hard for her to imagine that people her age spend every day of the summer like this, so sickeningly free. The promise of this gleaming life has always lured her close, but it's at this moment that Juliette knows she's been injected with the poison of the dog days. It is too late to stop the fall. It's greedy of her, she knows. In her head, she's already reaching for more, fingers and mouth stained crimson from the first taste. Selfish. 

The world rushes past her vision, blending into an exquisite impressionist painting. Her hair whips wildly around her face. Juliette is no longer scared; she can't even bring herself to close her eyes until her body crashes through the waters. The cold water sends a sharp jolt through her body, but she doesn't mind. Juliette feels warm all over. 

She can almost hear her mother laughing in her head, calling, "Sunchild! What have you done this time?" 

For a moment, she considers staying here. To never go up for air. To exist like this forever and preserve the scene. Juliette doesn't find it a bad idea. She has always lived in memory, anyway. 

Her head breaks through the ocean's surface, looking around just as Sarah and Topper crash through the water, whooping loudly. The impact sends a cascade of cold spray and foam directly into Juliette's face. 

Sarah and Topper surface at the same time, gasping for air before breaking into laughter. 

Juliette sputters, wiping her eyes as she chokes out, "Topper, you scream like a little kid."

"Little kid?" he protests, flicking water towards her. "Hey, don't judge my war cry."

Sarah snorts, pushing her hair out of her face. "Yeah, I thought you were a seagull fighting for french fries."

"An insult to seagulls everywhere," Juliette says, scrunching her face. 

"Am I being ganged up on right now?"

Juliette laughs, still grinning as she treads water. The sea cradles her body, and for once, the knot of tension in her throat has become loose. The weight in her chest seems to dissipate as if carried away by the churning waves. She looks at Sarah, whose laughter lights up the twilight like fireflies, and at Topper, whose exaggerated pout is impossible to take seriously.

She lets out a disbelieving laugh, a little scared that the moment is bound to take a terrible turn. Juliette knows that freedom is always fleeting. "What did we just do?"

"We lived, Laurent!" Topper answers, splashing water in Sarah's face.

Sarah gasps and coughs dramatically, retaliating with a splash of her own. "Ugh, Topper, you're a menace!"

Juliette tries to dodge the chaos, but somehow ends up in the crossfire. She sputters, wiping the water from her face. "Hey, can you two at least aim somewhere else?"

"Oh?" Topper says. "Sorry, Julie, I think you were my original target the whole time⎯"

Sapphire waves come crashing down on Juliette before she can even fire back. She is thrown off balance, a shriek barely escaping her lips before her head is momentarily submerged. 

When she resurfaces, Topper's grinning like a maniac. "Direct hit!" he shouts triumphantly, throwing his arms in the air.

Sarah shouts furiously while laughing, "Topper!"

The entire scene is so stupid, that Juliette can't even be upset. Even as they swim back to shore, back to the kegger, the grin across her face seems to be permanently plastered there. 

She downs another drink and dances on the gritty sand with Sarah, who snaps photos for her social media and drags Juliette into a game of truth or dare. Somehow, a crown of orchids ends up in her hair. Now, Topper is telling a story as they stand around the bonfire, trying to keep warm and dry off after their cliff dive. Juliette stands quietly, listening and occasionally dropping in her commentary.

This isn't the summer she's always envisioned, but it's certainly close enough. Juliette knows that she isn't in a position to complain. She forces her fingers to unclench. It should feel enough, she tells herself. It has to. Because the exhilaration from earlier still hasn't quite extinguished yet, and she knows the end of it is near. She already feels less warm, less clean.

But everyone is still laughing and laughing, for some unknown reason. Juliette shakes her head and laughs along. This is a good thing, she tries to convince herself. It has to be. This is what she deserves. After all, her bones have been exhausted from running all this time. 

So Juliette releases her breath. She stops. She stays.

༄.°

          Laughing is all Kooks seem to do. They laugh at everything: pain, tension, happiness, lies, and even at the quiet spaces where silence should sit. They exchange laughter like a secret currency, their armor against vulnerability, a tool for deflection when a moment is suddenly too real. A perfected language that spins discomfort into something sparkling and weightless. 

Juliette has never quite mastered this tongue. It's disorienting. What is real and what is fake? If Topper is telling a story, have half the pages been torn out? Have the words been smudged, so that the word laughter is just slaughter in disguise? 

"Check out those Pogues," Topper laughs, raising his solo cup in their direction. Everyone laughs with him.

Juliette isn't quite sure what's so funny. She has never understood this generational hatred for Pogues. They always seem to have more fun than any Kook ever has. How many times has she watched the HMS Pogue drift by her window, disgusted by her own envy? Every year, she waits for the summer ⎯ the summer that the Pogues experience every day.

Kelce snickers, "What a bunch of losers. Shouldn't they be... mowing lawns or something?"

"God, why are they always coming over here?" another Kooks says, wrinkling their nose. 

"Free beer?"

Everyone laughs again.

Sarah sighs and says, "Hey, it's almost midnight. I think I'll get going."

Topper practically jumps up. "Oh, sure," he says, shrugging all casual. "Yeah, I'll drive you."

"What about you, Julie?" Sarah asks, taking the hand that Topper offers her. She stands, brushing sand off her blue dress. 

Juliette swallows hard but nods. Her night was bound to end at some point, anyway. "Yeah, I should get going too."

"Alright, let's go," Topper says.

The trio walks away from the group of Kooks, heading up the beach. They weave through the crowd, brushing past bickering crowds and shouting groups of friends. Although her hand is in Sarah's, Juliette struggles to catch up in her impractical sandals, and nearly trips over somebody's foot.

She curses loudly when a pair of arms reaches out to steady her. They're warm over her bare shoulders; once they are retracted, Juliette shivers.

"I'm so sorry," she immediately blurts out. Apologizing is something she does a lot, but this time it's truly genuine. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to."

A blonde boy stares back at her, his eyes wide and half curious, half conspiratorial. Something about him is familiar to her. "S'all good," he shrugs. Then, his face brightens. "Hey, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?"

Her face feels like it's burning. "Oh, no, but thanks."

"Come on, is it not fancy enough for you? You're a Kook, aren't you? I saw you with my buddy Top earlier ⎯ he's a nasty piece of work."

"We were just leaving," Juliette says. She doesn't feel like defending Topper and doesn't really disagree with this boy's comment.

"Hey, you know what?" Topper suddenly appears by her shoulder. "I'll take it. Thank you, man, I appreciate it."

The blonde boy stiffens, suddenly not so friendly. "Ah, that's nice, Topper, but I didn't ask you. If you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn't."

"Oh, pretty please?" Topper baits. "Pretty please⎯"

"Yeah," the boy says, turning back to Juliette, "so you can have it."

"She doesn't want it, you⎯"

Topper smacks the drink from his hands, the beer spilling and soaking everyone. The blonde boy's shirt is drenched by the alcohol, but he hardly cares; grabs Topper by the collar and shoves him backwards. 

"Nah, nah, nah," his friends seize him back before he can start swinging. "Hey, JJ, don't!"

Staggering back, Juliette recognizes their silhouettes; then it clicks. She's only ever seen them from a distance, but she knows them. She's seen them countless times, dancing aboard the HMS Pogue. Strangely, she feels defensive, though she's uncertain for who. 

"You're so funny, man!" JJ shouts towards Topper, who's wearing a satisfied smirk. 

Topper walks back towards them, and Sarah pleads for him to stop. Juliette walks up to him, fueled by fear and impulse. "Topper, stop," she hisses. "Let's just go."

He recoils for a moment, probably recalling that Juliette's disapproval has ruined reputations before. He nods tightly, and Juliette slumps in relief with Sarah. The two girls start to turn away when Topper calls back, "Dirty Pogues!"

This time, it's one of JJ's friends that lunges for him ⎯ the one with the backwards baseball cap and bandana necklace. He shoves Topper back, and like clockwork, is yanked back by his friends. 

"We're supposed to be incognito, remember?" one of them protests.

Juliette hadn't even noticed Topper storming up to them until he swings a sucker punch to Bandana Boy's jaw. The crowd gasps in terror and twisted delight, pulling phones from their pockets and chanting, "Fight, fight, fight!"

"Guys, guys," Sarah yells. "Chill!"

Nobody is listening anymore. Topper shoves the boy down into the waves, delivering a kick to his stomach. He leans over him, almost laughing as he says, "Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?"

Loud laughter breaks out amongst the Kooks again, and this time, Juliette translates it with terrible ease. This unfortunate word, laughter, is hiding in the word slaughter again. It's glaringly stark, glistening with ruby and scarlet. Juliette turns around, and finds them all cold-hearted and empty ⎯ just like herself, maybe. She doesn't want to associate with this crowd anymore, but she is stained all over by them. Yet, this was never her intention. She wouldn't have come if she'd realized sooner, that Kooks are all killers. 

It doesn't take long until her theory proves to be right. 

John B swings at Topper, fighting and wrestling back with a raging hunger in his eyes. Topper fights like a Kook, all polished, punching with trained skill. And then, it takes a turn for the worst. In the cold night, it's clear as day as Topper shoves John B's face down into the water.

"Topper ⎯ Topper stop!" Sarah screams, voice nearly hoarse. "No!"

"He's drowning him!"

"I know!"

"Topper!" Juliette shouts frantically. She has made up her mind already, surging forward to shove Topper off. But she halts in her tracks, her heart in her throat. JJ has beaten her to it, pressing a gun to the back of Topper's head. 

"Come on, chill, dude!" one of his friends is shouting. 

"Stop!" Sarah yells desperately, storming forward. "JJ, put the gun down! Put the gun down!"

"Did you say something, princess?" JJ mocks, his grip on the gun tightening. 

Topper comes to his senses at last. Juliette wonders if this is the only way Kooks can understand, when slaughter meets slaughter. Shaking, he slowly lifts his hands as he shouts, "We're good, we're good!" 

"Kie, can you check your psycho friend, please?" Sarah demands, still shaken.

The crowd behind them has been scattering at the sight of the gun already, but JJ brushes past his friends and hollers, "Okay, everyone listen up!" He raises the gun in the air, pointing it toward the night sky. "Get the hell off our side of the island!"

Without warning, two bullets are fired into the sky. Juliette flinches and recoils away, eyes wide and knees ready to give out. A strangled noise comes from the back of her throat ⎯ like a suppressed scream or sob. 

"Are you crazy?" one of JJ's friends shouts indignantly. He shoves at JJ. "You idiot! Why would you do that? It's not worth it!"

"Juliette!" Sarah calls towards her, distressed. One of Topper's arms is slung over her shoulders. He looks like he's in a daze, eyes all wide with horror. "We have to go!"

Juliette stares back at the pair with the same horror. The scene has jolted her awake, as though suddenly, she can see them for what they are. Like some curse, she has always forgotten that reality has teeth. That reality will bite. And now, it's too late. She reached out into her twisted, romanticized version of life, and now must bleed. 

"You go," she hears herself saying.

"What?" Topper says in disbelief, returning to his usual self. "We can't leave you with these Pogues. What if they... shoot you or something?"

"What if you drown me or something?" Juliette retorts, matching his tone. 

Sarah appears as though she wants to say something, but nothing comes out of her mouth. Topper has no answer for her either. Not even a look of remorse. That's enough for Juliette.

"Just get out of here," she says, a little crestfallen.

Topper tugs Sarah away, and Juliette doesn't wait to watch them leave. She turns around, finding the Pogues still shoving at each other and bickering. 

"Do you know what you just did?" the only other girl shouts. "What if we get arrested?"

"Chill out, Kie!" JJ defended. "I was saving John B's life, okay? Where's my thank you?"

Juliette clears her throat, twisting her fingers and hands together. The three turn and stare at her, like they hadn't noticed her presence until now. She grimaces at the attention but looks towards John B's body, which is still lying in the waves. "I think your friend's life still needs saving. Just saying..."

"Fuck."

They turn in unison and make a mad dash for John B, hoisting him upright and trying to shake him awake. 

"JB! Can you hear us? Are you good?"

"Clearly not, Pope," JJ mutters, checking John B's pulse. 

Kie hits the back of JJ's head. "We need medicine or something, anything. I don't know what to do." She looks like she might be on the verge of tears. 

"He'll be knocked out for a while, but he'll probably be up tomorrow," Juliette says weakly, trying not to shift around. "Make sure he stays breathing normally. And he might want some painkillers when he wakes up, for the chest pain." 

Pope nods, a little more relieved. "Thanks. C'mon guys, let's get him back to the Château."

"Hey, what's your name?" Kie decides to ask. 

Juliette stills and can't bring herself to meet Kie's gaze. It's a question she dreads to answer. "Juliette," she says. She leaves out her last name, despite how her father always instructs her to. 

Faint recognition flickers in Kie's face. "Laurent," she says flatly. It's a statement, not a question. There's an edge of bitterness there, which Juliette notices easily.

Juliette nods once and says nothing more. 

The trio pulls John B to his feet, who is barely conscious, stumbling and leaning on his friends. The parking lot isn't too far of a walk, so Juliette doesn't worry about them. She has herself to worry about now. 

It's a one-mile walk back to her house. One mile to process the entire night, one mile to relive it or bury it. But Juliette doesn't even make it past ten meters away from the beach. The loud engine of a car roars towards her, white headlights shining on her face. She freezes like a criminal caught in the midst of a crime. Juliette knows that car without hearing it. She knows who is driving behind the wheel before the headlights can even dim. 

Kenneth Laurent's silver Porsche stops in front of her, his face stone-cold and jaw clenched tightly. 

The knot of tension and terror pulls taut in Juliette's throat again. There is one quality to her father that she has an appreciation for: he does not lie in his laughter like the other Kooks do. Her father has no reason to disguise his desire for slaughter. 

𝕱rom the desk of Ariadne .ᐟ

hey... how y'all doing...
(and the crowd is silent)

i love love love this chapter with my whole heart.
it is very unedited, since i'm scared to reread it. 
i was also scared to write it, since it is probably
one of the most vulnerable things i've ever written.
but then i remembered i had free will and it's gonna
be worse next chapter. 

(also a reminder to please look through the trigger
warnings!! there's a lot of heavy stuff coming up
and i lowk have gotten triggered a couple times
writing lmfaooo.)