𝐑𝐮𝐧 ✯JJ Maybank

𝐒𝐢𝐱 ||𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟.

✯♛✯

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 up beer cans that littered the beach, they were probably leftover from a kook party that was thrown a while ago. Kooks can barely clean their own bedrooms, so she wasn't surprised that they left the solo cups and cans lying around after a party.  She tried to steer away from all the stuck up people surrounding her. Every now and then she would say a 'hello' to an adult who spoke to her first, but other than that she hasn't spoken a word. Sarah had abandoned her to go clean up with Topper, it didn't bother her though, she didn't mind being alone. The silence helped her think.

She observed her surroundings, seeing that most of the people her age weren't even helping, most were just sitting around and talking to their friends. It wasn't like anyone wanted to be there, it was either their parents made them go or they were there to make it seem like they were 'helping' the environment. There was a group of obnoxious boys behind her, having a very loud conversation about the party at the Boneyard the other night. They spoke about how Topper should have drowned John B, which made her roll her eyes. It seems that almost every teenage boy who was a kook was somewhat sociopathic, well the ones she knew. The girl was already growing agitated with the people around her, even if they weren't speaking directly to her.

The boys' conversation switched to the topic of JJ. They were saying how he should be in jail or an asylum because he pulled out a gun, Francine almost scoffed at that but stopped herself. If she did, it would draw attention to her, which was the last thing she needed.

She couldn't hide her annoyance anymore though at the last comment they made. Right after one of the boys sneered out 'dirty pogues,' she lost it, and the fact that the rest of them laughed at it made her blood boil even more than it already was. First, they say how they wished someone drowned, then they say someone belonged in jail because they were defending their friend from dying, then they say 'dirty pogues' like everyone who doesn't have three houses in Bora Bora were disgusting and shouldn't exist.

     Francine turned around abruptly and narrowed her eyes at the boys. Before she could even utter a word, one of the four, spoke up, "I'm sure they're not all like that."

     The girl stopped what she was about to say, furrowing her brows as she looked at the curly-haired, nameless boy. He wasn't familiar, so she assumed he was either new or a tourist. Kelce, another one of the people Francine couldn't stand on the island, rested his hand on the new boy's shoulder and gave him a look, "Nathan, buddy, they're all the same. The pogues are just a bunch of dirty lowlifes who-"

     "Hey, Kelce," Francine called, interrupting his rant about the people from the Cut. She found it was extremely disrespectful for him to be talking so low of those people when he'd probably be living off his parent's money for the rest of his life. Never having to work for anything. "Shut up and make yourself useful. I don't think your mother gave birth to you so you could sit on your ass all day, talking about people you don't even know."

     The two boys that were agreeing to Kelce immediately widened their eyes, wondering what the boy was going to do. The nameless boy had a small smile on his face as Francine glared at the kook. Finally, Kelce stood there, shocked at her outburst, he clearly hadn't seen her listening to their conversation. She was normally the quiet girl in their school, she never talked much, only to Sarah, so it wasn't often she'd say what was on her mind. 

    He stepped forward with a smug smirk, recovering from the initial shock quickly, and looked Francine up and down. The girl shifted uncomfortably under his creepy stare. "Oh, sorry, I forgot we had one of them amongst us."

     One of the blonde boys in the back snickered and shook his head in disbelief, "Nah she's too pretty to be a pogue."

     Francine rolled her eyes at his stereotypical assumptions about how people were on the Cut. Just because they didn't have enough money to wear designer clothes and Gucci doesn't mean they all look like crackheads. Sure, some of them do, but it's only the ones who are actually on crack or who don't give a shit about what people think about them. She sighed at the group of airhead kooks, "Can you all do me a favor, and please, fuck off."