Me and the Devil

1.

The sun is starting to set over the water, as I toast the end of school and the start of summer with my best friend, JJ. JJ Maybank. My best friend for as long as I can remember. We grew up next to each other and he's about as local as they come. Mild klepto and a future tax cheat, but the biggest heart I know.

My heartbeat increases as I watch John B walking on the ridgepole of a new house still in its construction phase, trying to keep his balance with one hand since the other is currently occupied with a beer. Me and JJ's duo became a trio when we decided we could use a charismatic leader, hence John Booker Routledge. Leader of the Pogues. His dad disappeared at sea nine months ago. Who disappears at sea nowadays?

"What is that? A three-story fall to the deck? I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival," shouts Pope.

"Should I, do it?" John B asks the group testing the wind with his finger.

"Yeah. I'll shoot you on the way down," Pope exclaims while pointing a drill in John B's direction.

I roll my eyes. After years of hanging out with this group, I know better than to try and reason with them. Besides, most of the time I'm joining in on the shenanigans. Pope Heyward, however, is the brains of the operation. Finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. Little bit of a weirdo, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

Kiara walks out of the house muttering something about how this used to be a turtle habitat. She looks up and smiles weakly at me, but her eyes widen at something she sees behind me.

"Security's here. Let us wrap it up," Kiara states. Kiara Carrera. When not saving turtles or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. Not sure why, though. She was a rich kid way before I ever moved over to Figure Eight.

"Boys are early today," I calmly say as this type of situation is normal to us. Growing up around JJ and John B we found ourselves in the wrong spot at the wrong time many times before. I personally love adrenaline. The fear of getting caught. The rush being something other than what my "perfect life" expects me to be.

We all start to run down to the van. I can hear JJ running his mouth as well.

"Humpty Dumpty, Let's roll!"

"Gary is that you?"

"Good to see you, man!"

"The bus is leaving!" John B yells to me, JJ, and Pope. JJ grabs my hand while I jump into the back of the van while John B is slowly driving away. JJ leans out the door, beer in hand to continue taunting Gary.

"Come on Gary! You are so close! You can do it!"

"You're going to give him a heart attack," Kiara says. I silently agree, but it is too much fun and incredibly too easy to taunt Gary.

I see JJ finally toss Gary the can of beer.

"They don't pay you enough, Gary!" I yell after him. JJ turns around and smiles at me. If there's one thing to count on it's that me and JJ will always be in sync with our wit.

John B drives all of us back to the Chateau, Big John's nickname for their little fish shack on the marsh. Since the vanishing of Big John, John B is supposed to be under the care of his Uncle T. Uncle T, however, is down in Mississippi building houses which means it is just John B right now, on his own, hangin' out with his friends. DCS is supposed to come tomorrow, but Hurricane Agatha is on its way, so John B called in saying that they are probably going to have to reschedule.

JJ jumps on the couch claiming the spot as his own for the night. I would usually take the guest room, but since I had not been drinking, and the weather seemed to be getting worse, I decided to go home. Pope and Kiara did the same. As I walk out of the door, I tell JJ that I'll pick him up some weed and yell at John B that I'll see him tomorrow.

I hop in my Jeep. It's brand new. I bought it for myself as a graduation gift. My mom and Ezra didn't really care about my achievement, so I thought I'd do something special for myself.

I start heading down the road towards Figure Eight, the place I'm supposed to belong, but I make a right turn leading me down a winding gravel path. It's so narrow I wouldn't even consider it a road. I arrive at a run-down trailer, home of Barry, the best drug dealer on the island. I'm a regular. Usually picking up weed, but I have been known to get harder things every so often.

I park my jeep next to a new motor bike. I don't think it's Barry's, but with the money he makes from his business I suppose it could be. As I head around back, I hear Barry talking to someone.

"You got balls, kid. I'll give you that. Two days," Barry says.

"I got you. Have faith in me, Barry," the second voice says.

As I rounded the corner, I got a clear view of who the second voice was coming from. Rafe Cameron. King of the Kooks. Walking straight towards me.

"Hey Barry. Here for my usual," I call.

As Barry goes inside for the goods, Rafe stops next to me and glares at me with his side eye.

"y/n, right? Didn't think I'd see you here," he says.

"Guess I could say the same to you," I say as I glare back.

"What would your daddy say about you being here? Oh wait, that's right. You don't have one anymore. Gotta hang out with your poor Pogues to feel anything remotely like family." Rafe retorts.

His words hit harder than I want them to. What the hell does Rafe Cameron know about my life? We interacted a few times at school and kook events, but honestly Rafe never really interested me as a person I'd like to get to know. Trying not to let the impact of his words show. I snap back, "At least my birth certificate didn't come with an apology letter from durex condoms."

For a second, something flashes in his eyes-anger, sure, but something else too. Something I can't quite place. He storms off before I can figure it out, and I can't help but wonder if there's more to him than the cold, Kook façade he puts up.

As I drive home, his words replay in my head. It was a cheap shot, but it hit close to home. After my dad left, I felt invisible. Neglected. Like no one cared. I still feel that way sometimes. Like I only exist in the background of other people's lives.

Rafe doesn't know me, but his words cut deep.

Back at home, I sit on my balcony, smoking and watching the storm roll in. The wind howls, and for a moment, I feel just as lost as the weather. Rafe Cameron isn't worth my time. But somehow, he's still on my mind.