Disclaimer: I don't own Outer Banks

The Flash of Lightening Before It Thunders

"Did you try the back up generator?"

I stare out my bedroom window and watch the winds smash the tree branches against the glass, scratching and creaking and definitely looking like more than a drizzle. Mom left for work hours ago and she isn't supposed to be back until tomorrow morning but somehow she heard about the storm picking up over here and she's been calling all night. Three times in one hour. I'm home alone so I guess I understand why she's freaking out. A tree can fall over my bedroom and it'd be all over for me... pretty morbid, I know, but something I have to consider.

The lights went out half an hour ago, leaving me no choice but to shut myself away in my room and see where the night takes me. And from the look of it... nowhere.

"Dad forgot to fix it, remember?" I tell Mom. "Everything's dark."

She sighs. "Do you think you can spend the night at Amara's? Wait, no- I don't want you driving this late. What about your dad? Did you call him? Nevermind, I'll do it. I haven't talked to him all day."

"I texted him, but he hasn't answered. I think he's busy. I'll be okay, I'll go to Nalyssa's if I have to."

"Don't drive!"

"I won't, I won't! I'll walk, I promise."

"That's not any better," she says worriedly and I can picture her biting her nails in panic from the local hospital. "Did you eat dinner?"

"Yeah, I did. I'll be fine, Mom. You get home at six, right? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, just call me if something happens. Or your dad or just... someone. I love you."

"Love you more. Night, mom."

I hang up then and set my phone on the bedside table, hearing the wind howl over the roof and making parts of the house tremble. I always thought we live in one of those places that could double as a haunted mansion except ours is only one story and Dad comes by pretty often to fix things here and there. The doors, windows and even floors are just so rickety people from the Figure Eight can probably hear everything we do. Like they aren't nosey already.

Already growing restless, I tip toe out into the hallway and follow the moonlight shining through the curtains to the living room, trying to let shadows and outlines act as a guide so I won't run into anything. I might have forgotten where Dad left his flashlight...

But looking out the window, it seems so much worse inside compared to out there. The sun is at it's last few seconds of setting, that brief burst of candy apple red looks like smeared blood across the sky. It's like a still from a movie. A horror movie. Right before somebody dies.

I suddenly have the skeeves and I really want to call some of my friends to get me through the long night, but my phone is at half battery and if it died before Mom comes back home she'll have a nervous breakdown if she can't contact me. If the storm won't kill me, she definitely will. I decide to just head back up and lay under the covers, shutting my eyes and hoping by the time I open them it'll be morning and we won't have to fix anything outside the house.

It's times like this where I wish I wasn't an only child. I don't consider myself lonely, but every time I have to spend hours and hours by myself I always think about how much better the memories would be if someone was here with me. Family or another friend.

Maybe that goes back to Mom and Dad. They sort of have a weird relationship situation; they're together, but they're not married which is normal for a lot of people, but one aspect that makes people judge them is that they live in separate places. My parents aren't rich. Not enough to own mansions like some of the kids at school, but they work hard for where they are now in life and make enough to not really be considered a pogue either. They literally straddle the border and that means both sides of the island sometimes play tug of war with them and push them to choose a side: pogue or kook?

It's not really fair. Mom and Dad just want some privacy so that makes us the black sheep of the outer banks, either respectfully ignored or regarded with animosity.

I don't know if that's why Mom and Dad decided to live apart. Maybe because they both work so much and they knew it would take a toll on their relationship if they were under the same roof or they just like it better this way. It sucks sometimes, but I deal with it.

I just want them to be happy.

I'm technically breaking the law by driving to school.

I don't have my license yet but that's what summer is for anyway, right? That and spending time with friends before I start applying for colleges and even that isn't fully thought out. I know I want to go. I just don't know where.

It's all Dad's idea... not the college part but the fact that I've sort of committed a traffic crime. He's the one who bought me the used Jeep parked at the side of the house while Mom made sure I had the route to school dialed in before I even attempted to drive myself in the mornings. And I'm not allowed to drive the car anywhere unless they approve the place I want to go. It's a pretty fair arrangement for the most part... except for the nights where I think it isn't and sneak out in it anyways.

But summer has started off like a bad history lesson and I spend the coming days after the storm patching up parts of the house that got pulled apart by the wind. Dad comes over to do most of it, but I help as much as I can and so does Mom on her days off. Weird of me to say but I like it... just all of us being together fills me with a happiness that nothing else can mimic. I spend a lot of time with them and I know some other teenagers will find that totally bizarre or lame but they're good company and I feel nothing but loved.

If only I can say the same for some other people in the outer banks.

"Really? Again?" I mutter to Kiara Carrera over the phone one night and I can almost picture her infectious smile, luring me to do her bidding. The guys she hangs around are a bunch of trouble magnets, proud of their pogue roots and they never give me smoke over the way my family prefers to live. I appreciate them for that. I guess that's why I always do favors for them, even if they drive me crazy sometimes.

Or most of the time.

Whenever they ask me for help on something it always involves me taking the car out when I'm not supposed to. I haven't gotten caught yet, but the more I think about it the more I feel like I'm gonna jinx myself, so it makes me nervous doing anything else for them. Kiara always finds a way though.

I have no clue why, but they seem to be absolutely intrigued by Dad's most prize possession: his cooler. It's not like any other cooler. I mean, yeah, it stores drinks and stuff like that but it's humongous, colored a faded army green with little carvings etched all along the surface, like a foreign map or faded museum painting. Dad said once it was a fishing gift from one of his closest friends. He rarely calls anyone a friend, so that's how you know something is special to him.

Kiara asks me if I can bring it over to the Boneyard one night because they're having a party and apparently everyone is invited. If they aren't, they're gonna show up anyway. That's how parties work.

Dad used to have the giant cooler at his apartment but he forgot it last time at Mom's when he came by to take me to the lake one weekend so it's been here in the hallway closet ever since. I cringe at the visual of him finding out what's happening to his keepsake. He'll be more angry over that than the fact I'm going to party where everyone will be plastered while also getting illegally behind the wheel. Granted, I'm not even going down there to get drunk myself, it's just as a favor for a friend.

Can serving alcohol to minors even be considered a favor? Probably not. Just more lawbreaking.

But at least the cooler is being used and not stuck in the duty closet.

I pull a thin blue jumper over my tank top and slip on my faded pink sneakers before slowly driving down to the Boneyard. I go way under the speed limit so it takes me a while to arrive, but I cut the engine as soon as I see rows of cars and a mass of heads lining up at the shore.

"What are you doing here, Braverman?"

"Hey, River!"

Not shocking at all that half the beach glares at me when I approach the keg stand while the other ones smile genuinely and wave. Their eyes burn holes through me but at this point I'm used to the ostracism. I smiled at the ones who waved at me and just walked past the groups of whispers and random insults: rich students crisp in their polos and designer brand.

Kiara stands with a red solo cup near the campfire but she grins when she sees me and skips over. JJ, the real headache of the group, gives a wild cheer and sprints straight for my arms that struggle to hold the cooler up. It weighs more than everybody here.

"I knew I could get you out," Kiara says, hugging me to her with one arm.

"Did you trick me?"

"No.. not at first. John B was running low on kegs and we needed the space. Now we got more beer and for once you get to have fun. Come on, stay with us."

"Way to go, Riv!" JJ happily exclaims as he passes by, slapping me on the back so hard it makes me jostle forward. Their other friend, Pope, is preoccupied filling cans and bottles from the sand into Dad's cooler. I hope they don't break it. "That's what I'm talking about, always comin' through for us, baby!" Yep, JJ is for sure drunk.

"It's not the first time you guys held me hostage," I confess. "So when can I leave?"

"You're gonna haul your dad's cooler all the way back home?" Kiara raises her brows. "Do you know how much beer the boys already put inside? River, you haven't been out since summer started. Just have one drink, your parents won't kill you. They won't even find out."

If I die tomorrow because Mom and Dad find out, I'll kill her friends starting with JJ.

Kiara links her arm through mine and we walk over to the smorgasbord of beer and mixed drinks. John B is at the head of it, passing out cups as if they won't exist tomorrow. I accept one from him and take a small test sip, my throat burning with the mixture of sour and citrus sweetness but it's good enough for me to keep drinking. I wander the shoreline, just far enough for the tide to lap at my shoes when it rolls forward.

If my other school friends are here I can't see them or maybe they decided not to come, but I find that hard to believe since it looks like every teenager in America has shown up for this beach party.

I hop up on a log and sit comfortably with my drink in hand, watching as the impending moonrise makes the ocean waves look silvery and bright. Brown curls blur my vision then and Kiara's smiling face bounces up beside me, holding what looks like a freshly refilled solo cup. She's tiny. I don't know how she holds so much liquor.

She playfully bumps her hip against mine and I inch over to make room for her. "You're not having fun, are you?" She inquires.

"I mean, I'm here, aren't I?"

"You barely said two words to anyone. We've been friends since middle school and you've barely talked to me. Are you mad?"

"No, it's just..." I take a deep breathe, mulling over how to say this. "I guess I have trouble relating to people now. Everyone is so soaked up in being a pogue or kook and I'm okay with not being either, but... it feels like I'm alone sometimes, you know?"

Kiara listens to me without interrupting, nodding along to what I say and I know deep down she can connect. Her family lives a pretty wealthy life but the kooks treat her like a pariah because they think they're not on the same level as the rest of the Figure Eight. Shallow. It's all so shallow. "What happened with Sarah made me think that I'd never meet a kook who'd care about me for more than just my parent's money," she explains. " My mom wants me to live like a privileged princess and my dad... you know he hates the boys. But they're been family to me more than anyone else. I get it, Riv."

"You belong, though. You belong with them. Once a pogue. always a pogue, remember?" I echo what I always hear her and the boys chant. "I'm neither."

"That's why you're my friend. The only kook that didn't reject me-"

"I'm not a-"

"I know, you're not like them and I love you for that, but you got to admit you do have money like one. You never let it go to your head."

I feel my cheeks turn pink and I look down at my lap, bringing my drink up for a long gulp. The bitter aftertaste sets my throat on fire but I manage to keep it down. "It's just money. I mean, yeah you need to live, but having a lot of doesn't mean everything's perfect."

Kiara sighs, gazing up at the moon. "You're telling me. The kooks don't know that, though."

"They wouldn't be kooks if they did." I pause then and reach over to clasp her hand with mine. "Thank you. I love you too you know, but god your boyfriends are crazy."

Kiara giggles and she peeks back at them happily. "They are annoying... but they're mine."

By the time midnight rolls around the party is in full swing. This might be the first time I see significant faces from the Cut and Figure Eight enjoying themselves in the same vicinity which normally doesn't happen when both halves of the islands have to interact. I guess beer is a natural ice breaker. I slink through the clusters of teenagers, periodically filling my glass and stopping to say hi for a second to people who don't automictically give me the cold shoulder.

It's fun but I know it'll be big trouble if I don't get home soon. With how many are present though I don't know how possible that will be... everyone is so hammered it's a miracle they're still on their feet. Welcome to adolescent alcoholism.

JJ's blonde tousled head stands by the campfire and he holds out a red plastic to none other than Sarah Cameron. A well known face at school. She'd always been one of the friendlier ones with a lot of money. "You can have it. Come on, Braverman took it so why don't you-"

"She doesn't want it, you-" Sarah's date - I think they call him Topper - sneers and flips the cup over, liquid splashing all over JJ and he steps up into the blonde surfer's face. John B pushes between them, his hands curling into fist against his best friend's chest. "Dirty pogues."

In a flash, John B whirls and swings at Sarah's boyfriend and the two wrestle each other in the sand until John B ends up in the water. The cup in my hands falls with a mute thump and I run closer when a circle starts to form around them, cheering and doing nothing but chugging down more beer. Topper is punching the life out of John B.

And no one does anything.

I gaze around in astonishment, my fingers shaking a little when I reach for my cell phone buried deep in my sweater pocket. Sarah and Kiara scream for them to stop, for someone to do something, anything, but all I see and hear is the harsh pound of Topper's fist slamming into John's B's face over and over again. My thumb ghosts over speed dial. Just one tap and the cops will be all over us. I should do it. I should. Better to get busted than one of us to wind up in the hospital. Or dead.

Not just John B or Sarah's boyfriend, but me too. By Mom or Dad.

Suddenly a gun cocks. "Yeah, you know what that is." JJ's erratic voice snaps me from my thoughts and I gasp at the sight of a very real, very loaded gun pressed flush to the back of Topper's head. "Your move, broski."

And just like that, the crowd disperses into frantic stampedes of teenagers racing back to their cars or just away from the shore. I get pushed and shoved in the process by people rushing to escape and it takes me a second to realize I have to retrieve Dad's cooler, load it into the backseat and get out of here before someone actually does call the cops.

"Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!"

Guess that means me too, I think to myself and wince when JJ fires a shot into the night sky. I hear Kiara yelling at him but all I can risk right now is getting my Dad's stuff back and going home before someone figures out we're here.

"River? River!?" Kiara's worried voice carries through the wind, Pope and JJ arguing in the background. I'm surprised she notices I'm gone and a part of me wants to say bye to her but with JJ waving a gun around like that, they're not exactly ideal company right now. His insanity almost ruined it for all of us. I mean I know he was only doing it to protect his friend, but God, we all could have went to jail.

Who knows what else that guy is hiding in his pockets.

Criminals in the making at only sixteen. What a life.

I lay low for a couple days after the beach disaster in case it gets out that I was there. The cops haven't randomly showed up to my house to ask questions and I haven't heard anything from my friends so I guess it's safe to say everyone got out in time. I just hope someone took that gun away from JJ.

Now that school is out I get to spend an entire week at Dad's instead of the weekend. His apartment is fairly small even for one person so at night I camp out on the sofa with our labrador Tucker curled up by my feet. I have a lot of memories here and I wish I had more with my parents living together but I can't complain. Some people are worse off than me.

I like to tag along with Dad in his ruby red truck and sometimes he'll even bring me and Tucker with him when he goes on jobs. He's bounced from so many different careers since he was in high school so now he's the Cut's resident handyman. I guess it took him a while to find something he liked. Once in a while he'll even make longer trips to the Figure Eight to do work there so he must be good at it if even the rich people call on him. You would think he'd have a lot of friends because of this but no... Dad is pretty solitary.

People are kind of afraid of him. At first I thought it's because he's tall with a really deep and raspy voice that he got from a bad accident when he was twenty but the more I hung out with him in public and watched him interact with other people, it hit me that it's because he just doesn't care what anyone thinks. He refuses to side with the pogues or kooks, rejected the idea of letting money dictate what kind of life he'd have and proved that despite him and Mom being miles away from each other, we're as much of a family as the next. I guess some people don't understand that. And they find it scary.

But it's my life.

What I love about the Cut is that I can walk everywhere and not get totally winded (never did well in gym class). My best friend lives only a few blocks away, her mom owns a boutique close to the Carrera's restaurant and if everything else is closed there's always the beach. Unclaimable and free. My curfew is at eleven o'clock - ten o'clock during school days - so that's more than enough time for me to visit some friends, so much that I don't know how else to occupy myself when I leave their house and when that happens I tend to roam around enjoying the sights. No one bothers me. It was the stares and whispering that made me uncomfortable at first but now I'm used to it.

It's nine o'clock on a friday night when I go over to my best friend Nalyssa Ou's house. She lives with her mom and six of her cousins with only three bedrooms to spare, something that you'd never guess from the outside but despite the cramped quarters she has the most welcoming family and her mom is always gifting me handmade items she sells in her store. Sometimes I see Kiara shopping in there.

I bring Tucker with me and he lays down with his head on my lap on Nalyssa's mattress.

"Amara's over in the Figure Eight," Nalyssa says.

"What's she doing over there?"

"There's a kook party. Don't ask me how she got in; richies are probably too high off their ass to monitor the guest list." Nalyssa leans over then and scrolls through her phone's social media feed on various pictures of the party, a gigantic pool in the background, a two story mansion and enough alcohol to serve the whole nation.

The images make me frown. Is Amara by herself in the middle of all that? What if she gets so tipsy she can't get home?

I see the way Nalyssa is looking at the photos, though. Curiosity, boredom and mischief clouds her coffee brown eyes and I can't believe what I'm about to suggest.

"You wanna go, don't you?"

Her head snaps up. "Can we?"

"I guess..."

Nalyssa beams and jumps off the bed, hurrying to tie up her waist length hair in a ponytail and I feel Tucker shift his muzzle against my legs, whining up at me as if saying 'look what you did, you idiot.' I sigh and rub his head.

Between the two of us, Nalyssa actually has her driver's license already so it's no big deal for her to borrow her Mom's car and take us down to forbidden territory. Normally walking into a den full of shallow and judgmental people wouldn't bother me as much as it used to but I don't know, something about tonight feels off, like it's telling me to gear myself up for some pretty steep consequences. But my instincts have been wrong before.

Tucker rides with us in the backseat and it doesn't take long for us to track down the address using Nalyssa's instagram. I thought they would be at least fifty cars tailgating the curb but weirdly enough there's like less than two dozen plus this really expensive looking bike parked by the door. People stumble in and out of the front lawn so it's safe to assume we're at the right place.

This is definitely the kind of joint John B and his friends would crash.

"We're gonna get thrown out," I say, unbuckling my seatbelt.

"We don't even live here. I doubt anybody's gonna recognize us."

"But what are we supposed do in there? Raid the fridge?"

"Good idea." She smiles then and leads the way to the wide open front door. I call for Tucker to follow and he comes loping up the driveway, barking at the strange surroundings and faces.

We slip inside and we're barely able to hear anything over the stereo system blasting and the cheering coming from the backyard pool. There's people scattered all over the living room, staircase, and kitchen, and I wonder how anyone can have this much fun without hearing themselves think. Or talk.

But Nalyssa is right. No one does notice we're-

"Who the fuck invited her?"

I turn and catch two guys staring us down by the kitchen, one shirtless and the other in a tight tank top. They're holding beer bottles and are looking at us like they just saw us crawl out of a swamp, disgust painting their features. I guess to them we're the lowest of low lives. The poor.

The bare chested guy smacks the other on the arm. "Relax, man. She's with Braverman." Well, we're not getting thrown out at least.

Nalyssa rolls her eyes, keeping her tongue under control and we wander a little deeper in this ridiculously huge house until we both spot the jackpot. Whoa, I think. They can open up a liquor store with how much is stocked on top of the table. I've never seen so many bottles, shots and plastic cups in my life, most definitely more than the beach party. I don't know where to start.

"Do you think they have Pepsi?" I ask over the music and Nalyssa shoots me an incredulous 'are you serious right now' glance. "What?"

She only shakes her head slightly and starts taste testing every available drink, putting the ones she doesn't like back. That's pretty gross so I nudge her in the side for her to stop but she shrugs back without a care.

"River?" Sarah Cameron steps in from the sliding back door then, bikini top tied haphazardly around her neck and she quickly wipes away something underneath her eyes.

I wave at her. "Hi, Sarah." I can't believe she knows my name.

"What are you doing here?" She eyes Nalyssa holding a beer bottle in each hand and taking a swig from both. "I didn't know you like to drink."

"I do."

"I don't."

Nalyssa and me answer in unison, making Sarah smile a little and laugh. "Yeah, you probably won't believe this, but I don't either."

"Isn't that breaking a kook rule?" Nalyssa asks.

"We don't really have rules."

"Except to be rich."

Sarah's expression falters and I almost kick Nalyssa in the leg for saying that. "Sorry for dropping in like this... we're not staying."

She folds her arms cross her chest and peeks up over people's heads like she's on the lookout for something. "Do you think I can get a ride home?"

"You didn't come with Topper?"

Like a bad magic trick, the athletic blonde appears at her side then, softly touching her arms and breathing heavily. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" the remorseful expression on his face shifts instantly to anger when he sees us, recognizes me standing here with his girlfriend. "What are they doing here?" He tugs Sarah closer to him. "You know she's with the Pogues, right? She was there when John B and his buddy put a goddamn gun to my head."

"My name's River."

"Roll with a pogue, always a fucking pogue-"

"Topper, you're being jerk. Stop it," Sarah tells him.

"Oh, you're taking their side? Again?"

"No, I told you I'm not on anyone's side!"

"Not even mine? Your own boyfriend's?"

"Look, I'm not a pogue and I'm not a kook," I cut in. "Is that really all you guys care about?"

Nalyssa is silent throughout the whole exchange, her fingers tightening on her double beer bottles and her eyes dart back and forth between the fighting couple.

"Topper-" Sarah tries to reason with him but he's not having it.

"You know what, forget it. Just forget it." He wrenches away from her grasp then and stomps into the flurry of bodies connecting to the deck. The scene definitely goes noticed by some of the other party goers and I could tell that the audience was making Sarah uneasy.

"Do you still need a lift?" Nalyssa asks her quietly.

Sarah sniffs, wrapping her arms around herself. "Please."

Nalyssa walks out first and I trail after them, my eyes skirting around the house on final time and I catch a glimpse of Topper surrounded by other guys and girls, downing shots and I don't miss the way he hunches low over the small table, thumbing at his nose when he leans back up. The glaze in his eyes is unsettling. I can't help but watch for a second, remembering some faces that were at the beach party and others from passing in the halls at school.

Is that the oldest Cameron sibling? I think to myself. He definitely has the picture perfect image and looks a lot like Sarah in his sporty t-shirt and brownish blonde hair. I thought guys like that only exist on TV.

Sighing, I turn away and retreat back to Nalyssa's car.

"Sorry about Topper," Sarah apologizes to us when we're halfway down the road. "He doesn't always act like that."

Nalyssa snorts. "Doesn't he hang out with your brother?"

"Yeah, but he's not as bad as Rafe."

I kick the back of Nalyssa's seat before she has the chance to say something sarcastic and she shoots me a glare in the rearview mirror. "It's okay," I say. "I mean he did almost die."

"This war between the kooks and pogues is so pointless. We're all human," Sarah vents, throwing her hands up. "Why the fuck should anything else matter?"

"Status quo." Nalyssa turns into the Cameron's neighborhood then. "Upset that and the world stops spinning."

As bleak as that is and not exactly a good note to end the night on, she's kind of right. I can't help but wonder what the islands were like before everything turned into a financial hierarchy or maybe it's always been this way. Maybe it has. I mean our own parents raise us with lines drawn so deep in the dirt when you would think most would want us to be accepting of other people and believe in equality. I guess that's all a pipe dream now.

The Cameron house isn't far from the party so it's not long before our headlights flood up to their porch, stopping right where the grass begins.

Sarah unbuckles her seatbelt and smiles at us. "Thanks for the ride. If you guys ever come down to Figure Eight again, I can show you around. My dad will let us take his boat out in the water."

I'm the last person Mr. Cameron will want on his property, but I don't tell her that. From the sounds of it she's had a rough night already and I don't want to be the sour cherry on the melted sundae of what should have been a fun summer evening. So we all say our goodnights and wait until she's inside her house before backing out of the driveway.

"She's not so bad," Nalyssa admits.

"No," I agree, petting Tucker's head next to me. "She's not."

If I didn't know the kind of family Sarah belongs to, I could imagine myself talking to her more. Maybe even being friends but Mr. Cameron is a well-known name around both the Figure Eight and the Cut. Even millionaires with his kind of money are intimidated by him, the pogues avoid him and people who live like my family? Well, we don't exist to people like Ward Cameron.

Money will always get in the way.

The tick tick tick of Tucker's paws follow me up all the way back to Dad's apartment. When I key in the lock and step inside, Tucker tramples off into the pitch black living room (probably for his food dish), and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only other light source comes from Dad's room, a faint yellow glow shining into the narrow hallway.

"Dad?" I rap on the door frame, peering around to see him sitting at his chair, studying a rumpled sheet of paper. When he sees me, he neatly folds the letter back up in the envelope and shuts it away in his desk drawer.

"Hey, just reading some mail. You eat yet?"

I shake my head and he stands up, saying something about if I want to go out for dinner but my eyes are focused on the framed picture of him and his long time friend displaying on his desk. The one who first got him into fishing. And the one whose death my Dad still has trouble talking about to this day.

I never met John Routledge, but he looks like a nice man.

A/N: I revised this part a little and changed from past tense to present tense since it's easier and more fun for me to write this one like that. I'm sorry if this was really boring, just wanted to do some buildup before hitting major events.

Thanks for reading!