Meredith Waters and JJ Maybank were sworn enemies, two ends of the social hierarchy. She, queen of thr Kooks, ruled dominancy and everything that revolved around popularity, money, and fashion. Everyone worshipped the ground that she walked on, pick...
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𝐅 𝐎 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐘 - 𝐓 𝐖 𝐎 a little weed never hurt no one
"We go in there, guns a–blazing," Meredith watched JJ intently as he loaded bullets into his gun's magazine, ring–clad fingers sliding the bullets in one by one. "Make Ward and Michael beg for mercy," Meredith took a deep breath at his word's, but tried pushing it down.
"Abscond with as much gold as possible, and vámonos, get the hell out of there," JJ continued, an exhilarated smirk on his lips.
"Send that shit right down the intracoastal," John B nodded.
"Wait for weather," Kiara added to the plan.
"Exit to Cuba," Pope nodded.
However, before anyone could agree, JJ was speaking up. "Cuba? No, man, Xcalak, jewel of the Yucatan," he shared a look with Meredith, who was smiling at him from their spots on the floor of the van.
"Lobster so thick, mangos..."
"And no word for money," Meredith finished, JJ's lips pulling into a proud smirk. His eyes met hers, and she held his gaze, carribean blue eyes boring into hers.
"Let's do this shit," John B nodded, turning back to face the road. A sense of excitement, or perhaps hope, wafted through the air around them, a hope that they could finally take back what was rightfully theirs.
And Meredith would help, regardless of her father's partake.
It wasn't long until the van was parking in front of a restricted fencing, a large sign staples to the fencing. It read restricted area, and in the far distance was a plane, which Meredith recognized as her family's private plane.
The Pogues all piled out of the Twinkie, running to the chain link fencing with furrowed eyebrows. Meredith's breath hitched at the sight of her father's Rolls Royce parked behind the plane.
Still, as time went on and everything was tied back to her father's actions, her mind couldn't seem to intake the information.
"What's the plan? Broad strokes?" Kiara called out through the silence, stopping in front of the fence.
"I don't think we got that far," John B sighed stressfully, the five teens all lining up against the fence, binoculars in Pope's hand. Meredith stood in between him and JJ, who had his fingers tangled around the chain links, eyes squinting into the distance.
"They're loading up the gold," Pope proclaimed, the four all whipping their heads in his direction. John B was the first to react, prying the optical device from his hands.
A car's horn beeped loudly in the distance, and none of the teenagers could make out the figures. Except for John B, who soon spoke up.
"That's Ward," He exhaled sharply, then turning further to the right, binoculars still pressed against his eyes. "And Michael."
