The Keys to freedom

Rumor has it

Oz tossed her bike aside as she stepped back into the yard, making her way to her friends lounging in lawn chairs out back. Grayson was stretched out in the hammock, and with a quick motion, she signaled him to make room. He scooted over, and she flopped down beside him, his hand naturally finding its place behind her head as he smiled down at her.

"Where've you been?" James asked, absently dragging a stick through the dirt before poking it into a patch of mud. He had been trying his best to keep his emotions in check, to maintain a stoic facade. But the possibility that his father could be dead, maybe even murdered—was too much to remain optimistic.

"Had to take care of something," she muttered.

He gave her a disapproving glance as she quickly changed the subject. "How much fish did you catch?" she asked.

"Two bluefish and one striped bass," Grayson replied.

Fish was almost always their meal ticket. It was free and they had easy access to it.

"We're out of rice and milk, though," James said tapping his foot on the ground. "Probably need to hit the store."

"Yeah, with all our imaginary money," Oz spit out.

"I'm sure we can scrape together a few bucks from our tips, Oz," he said with irritation.

Grayson stretched lazily before slapping Oz's thigh. "Alright, I'll drive," he said, flipping out of the hammock with ease.

As they headed for the back door, Jessper caught up to Oz, gently tugging on her wrist. "Hey, is everything okay?"

She let out a heavy sigh. She somehow always knew when something was bothering her, but still she lied and said " "Yeah, you know... annoying brother drama."

She studied her for a moment, head tilted in quiet skepticism.

Oz held her gaze and smiled a little brighter. "Everything's fine, Jess."

Jessper frowned but released Oz's wrist, trailing silently behind her as the group piled into James's old, beat-up truck. The engine roared to life with a rumble so loud it sounded like the whole thing might shake apart. Oz slid into the passenger seat, leaning her head against the cool window while Jessper squeezed into the middle beside her. James and Eric clambered into the bed of the truck, already bickering about who had the better fishing technique. Oz rolled her eyes—clearly neither, considering they'd only managed to catch three fish between them, she thought.

The store wasn't far—just a few winding turns past their driveway sat a small, weathered convenience shop that always smelled like old wood and, unsurprisingly, fish. Grayson parked and jumped out, the rest of them trailing behind.

Inside, Oz wandered down the aisles, grabbing the essentials—rice, milk, and a couple of other small things. Her steps slowed as she lingered by the shelves, her mind drifting back to Pyke. She remembered how he used to bring her here after school, grabbing sodas and licorice before they'd sneak up to the top of Aquinnah Lighthouse. Wrapped in a blanket, they'd sit together, staring out at the endless ocean, talking about a future she knew deep down was never meant for them.

"Earth to Oz," Jessper called softly, suddenly beside her. "You've been staring at the boxes of rice for a solid two minutes. You sure you're okay?"

Oz forced a smile and grabbed the nearest box, tossing it into the basket. "Yeah, sorry I was just thinking."

Once again, Jessper didn't push, she knew something was weighing on her mind, but also knew her well enough to wait. She knew she would tell her when she was ready.

They paid for their items and headed back to the truck, packing their single bag into the bed when Oz spotted Larry—his greasy, 5'8 smelliness unmistakable as he waddled toward the store. Just the sight of him made Oz's blood boil.