Snow On The Beach // R.C.

1.08

I spent so much time in my room trying to figure out how to approach John that I completely missed the beach clean-up efforts that I was supposed to be a part of. Sarah came knocking at my door awhile ago, and I told her to wait for me downstairs. After deciding it's probably best to go to John with sweets in tow, I checked my watch to discover that hours had passed since I talked to Sarah. I assumed she left without me.

I spent at least another hour trying to figure out what to bake.

Now, I'm finally heading downstairs to bake a batch of my gooiest brownies—a sure way to convince my brother to do whatever I want—but something stops me. I hear hushed voices coming from outside. Knowing I should ignore it...I creep towards the door anyway.

It's Rafe. He's sitting outside on the patio, in the same chair I sat in just hours earlier.

"I don't feel like you care." Ward is out there with him, but I can't see him from where I'm standing.

"I said I do!" Rafe raises his voice.

"You said—"

"What more do you want me to say?!"

"I don't want you to say anything! I want you to take care of business!" Ward yells. I jump at the sound, unused to hearing him like this.

"Okay!"

"I gave you money for the backup generators. You said you would take care of it. Did you take care of it? Where are they?"

"They're on back order," Rafe says, placing a hand to his mouth.

"Yeah, of course they are." Ward sounds like he might be rolling his eyes.

"There was a hurricane."

Rafe's sarcasm almost makes me laugh. Almost.

It's so strange seeing his hair...gone. All that remains is a thin, light brown, almost blond fuzz. Oddly, I feel the desire to touch it.

"I tell you what. You know that Pogue I just fired," Ward says, and I jerk to attention. "Way more reliable than you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really! You need to get it together, Rafe, or you can go live on The Cut," Ward spits, venom on his tongue.

And Rafe...he just laughs. I feel sick. Turning my back on the scene outside, I put a hand to my lips to vainly keep my breakfast down.

Ward asks, "Is that funny to you? You can go live on the damn Cut, Rafe...as far as I'm concerned. You know...this is exactly why I gave Cecilia the internship over you. Yet another Pogue with more integrity, reliability, and tenacity in her little finger than you probably have in your whole body. Now get out of here. I'm sick of lookin' at you."

Through the rushing of my blood in my ears, I hear someone stand, their feet echoing along the wooden patio floor. I take that as my cue to flee into the kitchen. Gripping onto the counter, I try to catch my breath.

"You're almost 20!"

My eyes widen at the sound of Ward's yelling. The fact that I can hear it all the way in here must mean that he is extremely angry. I wonder if it would be safer for me to be upstairs so that I can more realistically claim ignorance if I'm caught eavesdropping. Instead, I bend down and begin opening cabinets, pulling out all the baking utensils I need.

"You don't just get to sit back and have everything handed to you!" Ward continues.

"Yes, sir," Rafe says. "I'll take care of those generators, okay?"