PETRICHOR ━ pope heyward

- EIGHT -

WARNING: talk of dead bodies

"All right, my dad was ready to kill me before we bailed, so what's this mandatory meeting about?" Pope wondered, poking at the flames blazing in the center of the bonfire pit. Rixon's Cove was a frequent hangout spot for the Pogues, a ring of logs surrounding the dirt pile in the center, making a circle.

"It's about the G-game," John B stated, plopping himself down on his damp wooden seat. "But I didn't expect outsiders to be present." He finished as his eyes flashed over to Frankie who was seated on the log to his left.

"He's cool," Pope, JJ, and Kiara all said at the exact same time, and Frankie couldn't help the surprised chortle that worked its way out of his mouth. John B furrowed his eyebrows as his mouth opened.

"I was gone for two days..." John B lilted, confused. "What the hell did I miss?"

"A lot, actually," Pope snorted. "He doesn't know anything, though. I didn't think it would be fair to tell him without everyone else's approval, first."

"Tell me what?" Frankie wondered aloud, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. His eyes shifted between everyone until finally landing on John B.

"This is a democracy, so let's vote. Everyone in favor of telling..." The leader of the Pogues trailed off, realizing he didn't even know the other boy's name.

"Frankie." He provided awkwardly.

"Everyone in favor of telling Frankie about the treasure, raise your hand." Three hands shot up, not including Frankie who didn't vote, and John B shrugged in indifference.

The story would've been unbelievable, but as soon as the Pogue mentioned his father going after the Royal Merchant and disappearing, he knew it to be true. Months ago, Pope told Frankie about John B's father leaving town and not returning, but the boy refused to admit his father was gone.

John B told Frankie about going out during the storm and seeing Scooter Grubb's boat, then finding it underwater the next morning, and their subsequent trip to the motel. As soon as he mentioned the square groupers that chased them through the sound and rampaged John B's house, Frankie knew that the teenagers that he'd become friends with had gotten themselves in deep shit.

"Wait, the two guys, was one kinda big? With short hair? And the other was skinnier and had long hair?" Frankie inquired, recalling the mugshots Peterkin had shown him in the interrogation room.

A beat of silence followed as Pope's body turned toward him, his eyes wide.

"How do you know that?" Kiara implored, confused.

"Peterkin pulled me in for questioning when I got arrested. She was asking all kinds of questions about John B and then she showed me their mugshots, asked if I knew them." The images of their dead bodies, the same ones that plagued Frankie late at night when he was alone in his dark bedroom, flashed in his mind. "They're dead."

"Like, dead dead?" JJ blurted unhelpfully. Kiara shot him a look to tell him to be quiet.

Frankie nodded, still thinking about the images. "Pretty damn dead. They were gaffed. She said..." He took and let out a deep breath. "She said whoever killed them might be after John B. Then she asked about the Royal Merchant, but I told her I didn't know anything about it, so I was sent back to my cell."

Another beat of silence followed Frankie's words, only the sounds of the crackling fire audible, before John B sighed.

"Okay. Well..." He shrugged unsurely. "There's always someone after me, it feels like. Anyway, the reason I called this meeting is because..." He paused for dramatic effect, everyone's eyes glued to him. "The gold never went down with the Royal Merchant."