⤜---⤛ 𝔽𝕀𝕊𝕊𝕌ℝ𝔼 ⤜---⤛ ▬▬ 𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤 ∗ 𝕛𝕛 ▬▬

⤛ 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 ⤜

Talia Routledge's toes sank into the sand as she shifted her weight on the uncomfortable rock she was using as a makeshift chair. The faint ringing of laughter and music floated down the beach, blending seamlessly with the crashing waves on its shore.

It had been almost a year since her father had disappeared at sea while searching for a shipwreck. He had always talked about how someday he might need to vanish for a while, but she had never believed the day would come. In the months that followed, she had sadly grown accustomed to his absence. Her brother, John B, on the other hand, still held on to the hope that he would return alive. However, as the time had passed, the hope she had once clung on to did also.

With their father gone and their mother out of their lives since they were three years old, Talia and John B were left in the care of their supposed legal guardian: Uncle T, who was currently a few states over in Mississippi building houses. This left Talia and her brother to their own devices for the foreseeable future. They had all the time in the world to explore new skills, enjoy fishing, or delve into a book on philosophy. Of course, being only sixteen years old, their minds were usually fixated on just one thing.

"Tal!" John B's familiar voice sounded down the beach, and Talia looked up to see him stumbling towards her. His tousled golden locks were ruffled by the salty sea breeze, and he clutched a jar of an unknown liquid that spilled with every step.

She couldn't resist teasing him. "How strong is that? And can I have some?" She raised her arm lazily, pointing at the drink.

John B shot her a look. "Oh, this?" He plopped down, or rather collapsed, onto the sand beside her, propping himself up against her rock chair. "This... is water."

Talia arched an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"See?" John B chugged the rest of the liquid in a few swallows, managing to maintain his composure long enough to flash a pained grin before succumbing to a fit of coughing. Talia shook her head in amusement, rolling her eyes at his antics.

"Spic- uh... spicy water," John B got out between coughs. "You know the one."

Talia leaned back on her rock, letting out her annoyance through a long stretch. "Actually, I don't know the one. And you're a Kook for not sharing. Come on man!"

Although the term 'Kook' may have been used elsewhere in the world, on Kildare Island's south side, it was considered an insult. The island was divided into two distinct areas. First, there was Figure Eight, a territory claimed by the middle-aged champagne socialists and nepotism beneficiaries of Kildare, known as the Kooks. Generally speaking, assholes.

On the other hand, The Cut, located on the south side, was the home of the working class, who made a living by busing tables, washing yachts, and running charters. This was where they resided, and it was the natural habitat of what Talia and her friends proudly referred to as the Pogues.

"John B the Kook!" JJ's voice rang out as he jogged over towards them, his shaggy blonde hair jumping in and out of his face revealing a wide grin. "Never took you as a taker, bro."

And then there was JJ, her brother's best friend since third grade, who was about as local as they come. As far as Talia knew, his hobbies included drinking, surfing, more drinking, and perhaps the occasional misdemeanour. John B had tried his best to keep him away from Talia as they grew up, worried he would be a negative influence on her. However, given JJ's close relationship with her brother, it had been practically impossible. Eventually, Talia had naturally fallen in with her brother's group of friends, and they spent most of their time together. Over time, she found herself becoming more tolerant of JJ's irritating habits, and began to laugh more and roll her eyes less. This feeling only grew stronger as they grew older.