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4 Lost my whole appetite
The heat truly gets unbearable on the island by the time the sun is high enough in the sky to eliminate all possibilities of a shadowy spot on the marina. Gracie knows because she's been fifteen minutes outside, trying to dodge small talk with a couple of girls she knew from school with their fake smiles and pitiful eyes.
Everyone pities her, she's come to term with it. Oftentimes, she'd hear them whispering about her in the halls or in the kitchen at parties, and it was always something about how she was too poor to afford her own parents' love. John B tells her they're just jealous, but he always winces when he notices it.
Because, truth was, as impossible as it is to hate her, loving her is just as improbable.
The pill's been stuck in her throat for weeks. Maybe that's why she hasn't eaten since before the wind picked up.
And the heat was just making it worse because, so it seemed, all that waiting ended up being useless. Long story short: the coast guard didn't care and the Pogues decided to take matters into their own hands like they always did. There's no need for them to reach out to the authorities, they've never needed to before. Instead, John B and JJ track down the motel and within ten minutes they're at arms-length with the dock, jaw slack by the horror that lays ahead of them.
The motel was already unsteady, so hurricane Agatha might as well have blown it away. Between the uprooted trees, the debris in the water and the mattresses thrown out of the room and laid out on the wraparound balconies, it was obvious the flood didn't do this side of the island any good.
"I thought the Chateau looked bad," JJ whistles, looking around incredulously.
John B brings a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun and agrees with the blonde boy. Kie's got a frown on her face. "Motel or meth lab?"
"You be the judge," Pope quips.
"The boat we found is a brand new Grady-White," Gracie voices her skepticism. "You'd think whoever owned it could afford a better place."
"She's right," John B adds, "it doesn't look like a place where someone with a Grady-White would stay."
Pope looks between them, uneasy. "It looks like a place someone with a Grady-White would get killed."
It could be his goal of becoming a coroner on the mainland that makes him see death everywhere around. Or it could be the stench of the uncut grass after the rain that makes Gracie's stomach turn as JJ's boots thump on the grass and he secures the HMS to the devastated dock leading up to the motel.
