Together

108. Stalker

Remember those walls I built?
Well, baby, they're tumbling down
They didn't even put up a fight
They didn't even make a sound
I found a way to let you in
But I never really had a doubt
Standing' in the light of your halo
I got my angel now
-Always Mirin
-Halo cover

The sun rises over Rixon's Cove, casting a golden veil over the beach and crashing shore. The seagulls are flying high, squawking at the daylight just coming over the horizon. Travis jogs steadily on the firm sand, a common routine he's had since before his family moved them to Kildare. He liked being in shape and getting to know his new surroundings and the people inhabiting it.

Kildare is an incredibly cliquish island, even for high society. He's learned the difference between Figure Eight and the Cut, and that it was more than just about having money or not. It was a completely different culture on either end. The two sides, he learned, called themselves Kooks and Pogues. The happy middle, that is the suburbs, could go either way, but most fell on the line closer to poverty than with the people in three story mansions that house a family of four.

That didn't bother Travis at all. He hated involving himself with people that were different from him. Didn't like being called out for his privilege like it was something he asked for. His parents took care of him, had good jobs, and gave him opportunities. That wasn't his fault.

He's been keeping up his morning runs, hoping to find the girl that he'd been running into around the island over the last few weeks. Kiara, she said her name was. Didn't know much else about her, but after his run in with her at the Wreck he was making a point of digging for more information.

He asked around at the Kook Academy since those were his only connections to people their age. They reported back that she was a snitch(something about calling the police on a birthday party three years ago) and a Pogue, though that was by choice and not due to birth. Her parents owned the Wreck and she did live on Figure Eight. But, he was told, she had little to nothing to do with anything on the North side of the Island, choosing to throw her lot in with a group of Cut boys, one of which she was dating.

JJ Maybank. Travis hadn't done too much looking into him, but people offered up their own opinions all the same when talking about who the Kook born Pogue was dating. That he was a thief and a degenerate. His dad was a criminal and he was one step away from being no different. Also said he had a quick temper and flying fists that were best to stay away from if you were one on one.

He wasn't intimidated by that in the slightest. Not that seeing her goofing off with a pair of her so called "Pogues" on the boat after she dropped off his groceries didn't make him feel a twinge of jealousy, it really did. But from where he stood the differences in them were obvious.

Her clothes weren't as worn, her hair was clean and body washed. She wore some sort of body spray that was way too expensive for a Pogue to purchase, even he in his insane testosterone knew that. Her straight, pearly white, teeth that she clearly took care of smiled in a way that screamed privilege. Don't even get him started on her perfect figure that she clearly only allowed healthy foods to enter. He knows how girls like her live.

She was beautiful in her own right, probably would be without her luxuries, but Travis knew it didn't hurt. She looked above par because she could afford it. Wealth in his mind always made someone more attractive. He never bought that she lived on the Cut on appearance alone.

She wasn't a Pogue. She was born a Kook, she'd die a Kook. Maybe he could show her how similar they were.

The beach is predictably empty, but the same could not be said for the parking lot, located closely to the sandy beach. A pretty run down BMW van, from what his guess is the late 1900s, is facing the beach, like someone parked there to watch the sunrise or maybe even the night waves.