All American Dream

A minute from home but I feel so far from it

Is it insensitive for me to say: Get your shit together?
So I can love you

౨ৎ

All American Dream
Rafe Cameron  /  Outer Banks
Written by Aish

To be a Pogue is to feel like you've been left behind. Kind of. It's an abundance of self hatred drowned in an ocean of satisfaction. The winter is offending because it seems that everyone is moving on except for you. But the summer always comes.

Gracie always waits for the summer (because to be a Pogue is to prosper in the unbearable heat). It doesn't change much, however: she still lives in a small house with an unsteady foundation; there is still glass on the carpet. At least she's got her friends. What would she be if she didn't?

The season finally comes with promises of devastating storms and greater horrors lurking in the shadows, but it starts off soft and gentle so they ease into it until they drown.

Firstly, it's her brother's soccer practices that are getting more and more expensive as the summer rolls on. Secondly, it seems as though his coach, as out of place as he is, keeps showing up in her kitchen like he's dubbed the little house his unofficial home. After all, Rafe Cameron's lost everything. Rehab didn't help him like it should've; he's clean now, but his father won't let him back in the house and he's getting tired of the mattress on the floor of his fucking drug dealer's house. He coaches a middle school team to make a living and lives it trying to stay away from the thing that kills him. Though Gracie doesn't like him much, she knows all about it.

There is no denying that a Pogue—born or made—will always look for the gold. Her entire life, the gold had been metaphorical and fruitless and brought nothing to the misery that dawns upon the residents of the Cut. The slice of the island itself is a tragedy and never has it ever offered anything good for its inhabitants.