Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"POPE! MARTHA!" JJ YELLS, LAUGHING AS HE RUNS across the boardwalk, skipping, and jumping as he grips the wad of hundreds in his hand. "Yo, you are not going to believe what just happened to me, guys!" He yells, the sun beaming down on his happy face as he quickly turns and slows down his fast pace.
"Whoo! Martha, babe, that was the easiest 100 bucks I've ever made!" He yells, jumping onto the boat and fanning himself with the cash, flauntingly.
Martha is on the bow of the boat, sitting on top of the plastic lifesaver bin, looking into the sun. Her back is turned away from the island as she continues to face the sea, she turns her head slightly to acknowledge her boyfriend, half-smiling because she doesn't want her lip to tear open again. "I'm glad, J."
Luckily enough, Heyward's boat had a first aid kit, so she bandaged up her eyebrow and cheekbone, but they didn't have anything for her upper lip. She couldn't twinkle her fingers, they stopped pulsing after a while, but now her skin under the bandage Pope wrapped around her wrist and hand is burning. Martha cleaned up what she could of Pope's face in silence, even after Pope yelled at her not to tell JJ.
Pope nods at his fanatic friend, quickly walking to the cockpit and turning the boat away from the mainland docks. He covered his bloody bruises with a hat, the fabric irritating the skin, but he knows how unpredictable his best friend could be and that could be much more painful.
Martha grimaces as the sway of the ocean hurts her hand, sliding off the trunk and walking down the starboard side to lean against the cockpit wall. The left side of her face is hidden by the dark shadows, her giddy boyfriend is too blind by the fun to see a growing silence.
"When I say count me in on all these grocery deliveries, Pope, I mean it," JJ says, sitting down on the captain's chair. Pope is silent like the dead calm they need. "What's up with you? Bro, you good?" He asks, Pope ignores. Just staring into the dark sea.
JJ's eyes flicker to the altering light reflecting off the white walls and bouncing on Pope's skin. He stares for a moment, recognizing the tattered color of skin he's known to cover up with his mom's leftover makeup. "Yo, what happened to your face, dude?" He asks, his voice rising as he stands. Martha's wounds start to sting as her salty tears crawl down her face, watching as JJ lifts Pope's baseball hat to see a bloody bandaid on his forehead.
"Jesus!" JJ seethes, turning his head to look back at where they once were, only to his eyes to look upon his girl in the shadows. She's been awfully quiet. No. No. "No." He says in denial, walking over to Martha with his hands out; beckoning her to come forward.
She hesitatingly steps forward into the daylight shining from the windows, her left hand touching his right. She can't hold it. She can't feel his warmth. Just the weight of her hand on his. "I-I'm fine, J," she pleads in short sentences. Her mouth lets out a short-hissing wince as his callous left hand wraps around her cheek. "What happened?"
"Who do you think?" She says softly, nuzzling into the palm of his hand.
"Rafe and Topper jumped us," Pope answers, not turning his head as he twists the wheel. "They said no Pogues on their side of the island."
JJ's jaw clicks as his eyes flick over her shoulder, his eyebrows contorting in fury. He looks down at Martha, his right thumb slowly caressing and rubbing her bottom lip, thankful that these aren't torn. "I'll fucking kill them." His face stunning a shade of glowy red, his demeanor matching his teary lightning blue eyes.
"I'm sorry, Pope, this is all my fault," Marty says, walking away from JJ's hands and towards the boy steering the ship. "If I had just said sorry"—
—"No, Mars," Pope says, finally turning his head to face the girl. Streams of angry tears staining his face as they drip down his neck and on his chest. He's been distant with her the past couple of days due to his jealousy but he had nothing against her. And seeing her like this made the guilt pulse in his heart.
"Sorry?! What the fuck for?" JJ curses, his breath shaky because he doesn't know what to do.
"Apparently, I owed him an apology," she scoffs, leaning the right side of her face into JJ's chest. "And when I said no, I think he broke my hand with his golf club," she raises her left hand, showing off the stuffy gauze and the adhesive bandages across her skin.
JJ curses under his breath in disbelief, carefully grabbing her hand and kissing it like he did when they first met. "Don't worry, McFly, Doc's here," He whispers into her hair, kissing the top of her head.
Turning his attention to Pope, he asks a dangerous question: "What are you gonna do?"
➵ ➵ ➵
"2020 MALIBU, 24-MXC," Pope mumbles as the trio stares at the expensive boat. The maroon accent color is deadly similar to the dried blood on his forehead. "The world's finest wakesetter. Number one in quality, luxury, and performance."
Instead of naming the boat in awe like Ferris Bueller does with the Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder, this is said with vexation; irritation and loathe-filled daggers flying through the air and penetrating God's indeterminable obsession for all things shiny. A dark cloud swarms over the three, brooding with temptation and evil. Revenge is best served cold, along with a sunken play toy in the depths of the marsh.
"This is war, Pope," JJ clicks his tongue, continuing, "they hit us, we hit them." He nods, looking down to Martha as she wraps a bandana around her face, while he slides his bandeau over his head. Makeshift masks with their mad eyes peeking out of the top. "Do it," he commands, popping on a pair of Raybans.
Pope unbuttons his shirt, tearing it off quickly, kicking off his flip-flops, and throwing away his hat onto the deck. He steps on the gunwale, pushing himself off the deck and diving into the evening water.
"His daddy can always buy him another," Marty mutters, remembering how much money James Thornton has.
The couple watches as Pope quickly swims to Topper's boat about twenty-five feet ahead. Gasping for air and wincing as water slides down his bruised body, Pope climbs onto the boat, the sun rays casting an inescapable shadow to protect him from anybody watching. A hissing and regurgitating sound can be heard from where JJ and Martha stood, watching as Pope quickly gets up and dives back into the water with a metal plug in his hand.
JJ secures the ladder on the gunwale, the metal bars shaking as Pope climbs up it. "Wow, you did it," he says as Pope smiles proudly. "I am so proud of you right now. Holy crap." He looks around, taking off his sunglasses, sliding its temple on the neckline, and pulling down his black bandeau.
Martha smiles, handing him a towel. "You, sir, are amazing."
Pope quickly gets onto the deck, water droplets sticking to him like perspiration on a cold glass of water. "JJ? Mars?"
"Yeah?" The couple says at the same time.
"You guys can't tell anybody."
"Oh, no, yeah," JJ states like it is obvious. "Totally dude."
"No, I'm serious, dudes. Not Kie, not even John B, nobody."
"Gotcha, don't worry Pope, you're secret's safe with me," Martha says, JJ nodding at her answer. "Yup, my lips are sealed."
"Give me that. Gimme that," Martha says, holding out her right hand, Pope dropping the plug into it. She turns and chucks it into the air, grunting as she throws it thirty-plus yards away. "I played softball," she smirks, kissing JJ's dropped jaw.
