Chapter 8
hide and seek

"I have a lovely bunch of coconuts…deedle-ly…dee-dee…there they are a standing in a row…big ones small ones…some as big as your head…" I mutter in nearly incoherent sing-song voice.

BANG BANG BANG

I scarcely heard someone pounding on my door while still in my dream state. Currently I was happily dancing in a conga line with different types of fruit. I was in the middle of a long line with a saucy banana in front of me and a grabby strawberry behind me. Each time the banging of my door infiltrated my dream a random piece of fruit would be smashed by a giant fist coming from the sky. Tragic really.

BANG BANG BANG

This time the banana had gotten smashed. There is nothing worse then a smashed banana. Rinoa, you're dreaming about fruit again, wake up! My eyes snapped open with another round of banging on my door, only to be welcomed by the pitch black room. Holy shit! Massive headache! I clutched my head with my hands and winced in pain. Letting my eyes adjust, I looked around and saw light flooding in from the hallway underneath the door.

BANG BANG BANG

"Alright, alright…hold on a second. I'll be right there, just for the love of Hyne please stop!" I cried out. Stupid alcohol.

Mercifully the pounding stopped. I sighed and moved my arm underneath my pillow in search of my watch. My fingers brushed the velcro band. I pulled it out and held it close to my face while fumbling to press the indiglo bottom. 'Beep.' Nope, that's not it. After a couple of attempts I found the right button and my watch lit up. I squinted as my eyes were not ready for the amount of light being projected.

"Six…fifty-…seven!" I groggily said aloud. Who wakes up this early! Better yet, who has the gall to wake ME up this early! In my anger I attempted to ripe off the sheet I was sleeping under, only I quickly found out that the sheet was holding me captive. I let out a frustrated growl and thrashed my arms and legs around until the sheet was down around my feet. Satisfied, I sat up and swung my legs around to the side of the bed. I stood up and noticed that the sheet was still clinging to one foot. Shrugging it off, I proceeded to walk to the door. My first couple of steps were off balanced as I started to veer off to the left. Whoa there, easy does it Rinoa. One baby step at a time.

I recovered my balance and continued on my track to the door. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to let out a yawn. At that moment my feet were taken out from underneath me and I flew face-first down onto the floor boards.

THUD

"Ooooow….mother fuc-"

BANG BANG BANG

I once again winced as my head began throbbing. I slowly looked down to stare at the sheet that constricted around my foot. Oh, that's it you pathetic piece of cotton! I jumped to my feet and tore the sheet right off of the bed. You're not so tough now, are ya? I walked the rest of the way to the door with the sheet still wrapped around my foot.

"What is it!" I unlocked the door at swung it open, only to be met with a flashing light.

Click. Click. Click.

"Miss Heartilly, is it true that you and Connor Mathis have broken up? Are you out of the competition this weekend? Did you get into a fight last night?"

All of those questions came from one overweight and balding reporter with his photographer snapping away. The reporter was eagerly waiting for some sort of answer with a pad of paper and a pen in each hand. I was so stunned by the rush of light on my senses and the flash on the camera that I just stood in the doorway with my mouth agape. I heard a soft whistle that brought me out of my daze.

"Miss Heartilly, that's uh, quite an outfit you have on there," said the photographer from behind his camera.

Puzzled, I looked down at what I was wear and gasped in horror. I was only wearing my light blue boy-cut undies with a tight black t-shirt that had my sponsor's surfing logo on it. I quickly stepped back into the room and slammed the door shut, leaning my back up against it. I ran my hands through my hair and clutched my head. I could hear both the reporter and the photographer chuckling behind the door. Shit! Shit! Shit! Great Rinoa, you've just given the perverted photographer a fantasy for his next wet dream!

"Miss Heartilly, may we have a word with you?" NO you may NOT!

"We're not leaving until we do…" the reporter said while trailing off. Damn it. Now what? Think! Think!

"Ugh…okay, just give me five minutes…I'll, ugh, meet you down in the lobby. I'll answer your questions then," I said, instantly regretting it.

"Alright, we'll be waiting!"

Shit, now I have to go down and do a scummy interview. I slid down the door and held my knees up to my chest in deep thought. Okay, you can do this Rinoa. Just say 'no comment' to everything. Oh, better yet, say that you're violently ill and can't conduct any interviews. Just say you have…scathes. I'm not a fucking pirate. You're right, too 'shiver me timbers'. How about ebola? No, too deadly. Alright just go with the flu. Fine. I looked down at my foot and shook it a couple of times; needless to say, I had finally conquered the sheet.

Some what content with my plan, I stood back up and turned on the light. Through my peripheral vision I noticed that a usually occupied corner of the room was now uncharacteristically vacant of a certain surfing apparatus. Where is my board? Usually my surfboard is propped up in the corner to the left of the bed, but for some reason, my board was not in the room. I tried to visualize the last time that I had it with me, basically the last time that I was surfing. Ah, the accident. It's probably still out back on the deck…out back…wait a minute…WAIT A MINUTE…THAT'S IT! Rinoa, just sneak out the back and you won't have to face that scummy reporter and that photographer! I am a genius, somebody quick, hand me an award.

With a new found resolve, I quickly changed into a plan white t-shirt and a pair of faded cut-off jean shorts, chucked the rest of my scattered clothes back into my duffel bag, pulled out my black baseball hat and sunglasses, and dashed out the door. Once outside, I cautiously glimpsed up and down the hallway to make sure I was alone. Seeing that the coast was clear, I tugged my hat on and pulled the bill low to hide my face while turning to head out towards the back. I walked briskly and kept my head down hoping that I won't run into other nosey reports digging for gossip.

I apprehensively approached the back door and turned to check behind me to make sure that I was not being followed. The hallway was empty, save for the flickering lights and a few burned out light bulbs. With sunglasses in hand, I pushed the back door open and walked out onto the deck and found that my surfboard was propped up against the wooden deck rail. Fearing my discovery, I decided to leave my board at the mercy of the reporters and come back for it later. I walked down the steps and onto the beach where the cool sand grains flooded my sandals and seep in between my toes. I stopped momentarily to breathe in the warm sea breeze that danced across my face and ran through my hair.

Looking out over the ocean, a sliver of the sun is just protruding above the horizon spreading brilliant reds and oranges across the surface waves. The fishing boats are just heading out for the day's catch, their figures' silhouetted against the rapidly rising sun as they are seemingly swallowed by the encroaching rays. A familiar urge began to pulse through my veins and run the course of my body. A primal call if you will, one that I have obeyed since catching my first real wave. It is in the ocean where I can get lost in my thoughts or center my concentration if you will, be at peace, or just stop worrying so much. But most of all, the ocean is forgiving and washes away my sins. It has become a daily ritual of mine, a necessity really, riding the waves. Usually I would be heading out towards the water with board in hand, but not today. Today I have to stay hidden and out of sight. A light breeze comes in off of the ocean and I hug myself to keep warm.

I sighed and walked behind the building next to Sumet's to draw some distance between myself and the reporters who are probably descending on the hotel as a wolf pack closes upon their prey. The building had an elaborate deck in the back, much larger than the one at Sumet's, and was surrounded by towering palm trees. A swimming pool was constructed in the center of the deck, complete diving board and a poolside bar. The building itself dwarfed Sumet's in shear size and grandeur. The backside of the building took on the shape of a pyramid whereas each proceeding level was shorter in length than the one below. Thus each level had ample balcony space. The building was a hotel no doubt, a resort one at that. Why is it that I am staying at that shit hole Sumet's again? Because Conner and his cheap ass decided to foot the bill for this trip.

I rounded the hotel and began walking towards the main drag where shopkeepers where busy washing down the streets from the night before. I soon heard the endless chattering, bickering, and bartering of the Balamb markets opening up for the day. The stench of the nightlife still lingered in the morning air with the putrid smell of stale beer and vomit assaulting my senses. I covered my mouth and nose as I came closer to the street. I looked across and noticed a small newsstand with various publications from all over the world. Hmm…well I do need to kill some time, better go check out the damage. I hurried across the street, dodging bicycles and persistent merchants, until I came upon the tiny newsstand. I skimmed the headlines on the front pages hoping against hope that my name would not show up anywhere, unfortunately, it appeared that the world had nothing better to read about than the gossip concerning my life.

'Heartilly: Heartbroken and Heated' was the headline of one Balambian tabloid. A picture of me taking a swing at that girl from last night also accompanied the headline. What can I say, she deserved it. I continued down the row of newspapers, virtually each headline droning on about me and my 'outing' last night, until one paper caught my eye 'The Wanderer'. Thankfully my name did not appear in the headline. Intrigued, I took the paper, a publication out of Esthar, off the rack and skimmed through only to discover that a small column was written about me down at the bottom of the page. Down at the bottom! What could possibly take precedence over the details of my life! Hyne, at least one paper has the courtesy and the common sense to print something that is actually newsworthy. My eyes drifted back to the top headline, 'President's Son Goes Missing'.

"Hey, you gonna buy or read for free?" the newsstand owner asked me. I looked to my left and noticed that and older gentleman was standing next to me. His hair was neatly kept and he had a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and stared at me. His face was stern, but suddenly seemed to soften as if instantly recognizing me.

"Ugh…yeah, sorry about that. How much?" I asked.

"Five gil, but for you…it free," he said while offering me a smile.

"Thank you, but please, allow me to pay," I replied. I folded the paper underneath my arm and dug into my back pocket for some gil. I counted out five gil and held it out for the owner to take.

"No, no, you take! Put money away!"

"That's very kind of you, but I insist," I said while thrusting the gil out in front of him, "please allow me to pay." His smile grew as he reluctantly took the gil from my outstretched hand. I smiled back and began to walk away from him.

"They look for you all morning" he said quietly, stopping my progression. I whirled around and was about to ask him who would be looking for me, but instead he pointed across the street. He was pointing at a rather large group of reporters that were congregating just outside of Sumet's. I raised the bill of my hat just a tad to get a better view of what they were doing. One reporter was talking to the receptionist keeping her busy while other reports were trying to sneak past unnoticed. I brought my bill back down and looked back to the newsstand owner.

"Don't worry, I won't tell nobody you here," he reassured me. Before I could reply, he turned around and busied himself with fixing the newspapers on the racks.

"Thanks," I said, he simply nodded his head in return.

I decided that it would be best for me to lay low for a while, stay out of the public. I started walking towards the Fire Tavern, the little eatery right across from Sumet's. I figured that would be a good place to hide out and keep an eye on the reporters as well. I unfolded the paper from under my arm and started reading the front page again.

President Laguna Loire's son was reported missing to the Esthar police department early yesterday morning. He was last seen by his sister Ellone Loire, in his room talking on the phone to someone two nights ago. The presidential palace and surrounding areas have been thoroughly searched by secret service members and police detectives with negative results. The president has enacted the help of Esthar military forces to secure the palace and help in the search for his son. The detectives released a statement late last night saying that no signs of a forced entry could be found, and there is no evidence of foul play involved. Phone records show that a call was made from the palace at around 12:30 a.m., which affirms Ellone Loire's statement.

President Loire's son, Squall Leonhart, was recently in the news back in April when President Loire announced to Esthar that he had a family. Before becoming president, Loire was married to Raine Leonhart and had two children, Ellone Loire and Squall Leonhart. Loire spent fifteen years as president before breaking his silence on the subject. Sources inside the palace say that Leonhart was recently placed under house arrest by his father and forbidden to leave. Loire is reportedly devastated by the news and refuses to speak to any members of the media. Yesterday was Leonhart's birthday and a big celebration was being planned by the president. All festivities have been postponed until the safe return of the president's son.

A picture accompanied the article of a young man walking down the street trying to avoid reporters; the picture was taken back in April. Although he was trying to escape the photographers, he just happened to be caught looking in the direction of the photographer for 'The Wanderer' when this photo was snapped. I slowed my pace down when I approached the door to the Fire Tavern and stared at the picture in disbelief. That's weird; this picture is the spitting image of Squall. No, it can't be. I opened the door and walked up to the counter to order a cup of coffee. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that a lone figure was sitting at a back table reading a book and drinking from a coffee mug.

I sat down at the counter and placed my order for a cup of coffee in and continued to stare at the picture on the front page. His name did sound familiar…maybe he is President Loire's son. I stared at the picture longer. Holy shit! He is Loire's son! He's Squall Leonhart! The longer I stared at the picture the more I started to notice a long scar on his forehead. Why haven't I noticed that before? Maybe because you are too occupied staring into his eyes to notice it. I turned my head away from the paper and winced at my ridiculous thought. I do not stare at him. He just so happens to have blue eyes and blue just so happens to be my favorite color. That's right Rinoa, just keep telling yourself that. Shut it! Who asked you anyway?

It was then that I suddenly felt as if I had been placed under a microscope; I could feel a pair of eyes examining me and watching my every move. I cautiously looked out the front door to make sure that I had not been noticed by the reporters. Seeing as how they were still trying to sneak past the receptionist, I wasn't being watched by the reporters. The only other option was the person sitting at the back table. I nonchalantly glanced over my shoulder at the person and saw a man quickly look back down at the book he was reading. The man had floppy brown hair and looked quite familiar. He was wearing long cargo shorts with an unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt. Well, speak of the devil….it's Squall Leonhart. Not wanting to get caught staring at him, I looked back at the bar and picked up a menu that was resting against a napkin dispenser.

I opened the menu to look busy, but my thoughts were traveling at the speed of light. Oh my Hyne! What am I supposed to do? He's the President's son! He ran away from the palace! He probably has maids and butlers to wait on him hand and foot! He lives in a palace! He probably has twenty cars all at his disposal! And he thinks I have an esteemed life? He lives in a palace, in the most technologically advanced country on the planet! And then it began to sink in, our conversation from last night. He has the nerve to call my life esteemed! What an ass! He's the president's son for Hyne's sake! How dare he think that my life is better than his when he is the son of Laguna Loire!

My anger was starting to boil over. Something needed to be said or to be done, so I calmly folded the menu back up and placed it back against the napkin dispenser. I turned around in the swivel chair and narrowed my eyes at the brown headed heir to Esthar. I got up and flung my arm back on the counter to grab the newspaper, all the while still glaring at him. I started walking in his direction and made each step as loud and clamorous as I possibly could to get his attention, but he just kept his head down in his book. Once I reached the table, I slammed the newspaper down on the table to get his attention.

"My esteemed life? You have the nerve to call my life esteemed? What's the matter, Squall, was the palace too harsh on you? Was having a servant tend to your every beck and call too stressful for you?" I gibed. He didn't even move! He just kept reading his book and never even acknowledged my presence there. I crossed my arms and impatiently waited for a response. After a minute he shook his head as if in deep thought and slowly closed his book. He diligently moved the book aside and brought his coffee mug in front of him. Before taking a sip of the hot liquid, he blew on the surface in an attempt to cool it off as not to scald the inside of his mouth. He gingerly placed the mug back down and turned the mug slightly clockwise to his liking before finally looking up to me.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" he asked, feigning his innocence in the situation. I huffed and pulled the seat out in front of me to sit down.

"I think that you'll find today's top story in 'The Wanderer' quite intriguing, I know I did," I said while sliding the newspaper in front of him. He looked at the paper and read the headline to himself, then nodded his head in agreement with me. The waitress finally came around with my coffee and placed it in front of me then scurried back to the kitchen.

"Ah, yes, you are right. I am soooo glad that you brought this to my attention. I've always wanted to know when the next critically acclaimed Vincent Valentine play would be playing at the…Angelika Theater…on 4th and Broad. Thank you sooo much. I once was lost, but now I am found, thanks to your infinite guidance," he droned out, each word dripping with sarcasm.

"What?" I craned my neck so that I could see what he had read to give him that impression.

"Yes, I love reading the arts and entertainment section," he said in a monotonous tone.

"No, the front page, not the back!"

"Then why didn't you just give me the front page to read in the first place?" he asked with a slight smile.

"No! I…I just…ARGH! Give me that!" I snatched the paper back and flipped it over to the front page. "Here, read this."

Within a matter of seconds Squall's demeanor had changed. He bore into the paper with the harshness of a hacksaw. He gripped the paper and brought it closer, crumpling the edges. His jaw suddenly clenched as he took deep breathes in and out. He shut his eyes.

"Yeah, so what."

"So what? Were you going to tell me?" I asked weakly. He opened his eyes and stared down at his coffee.

"Tell you what? It's none of you fucking business."

Okay, so I was a little taken back by his statement. I was pissed. I was pissed that he didn't tell me who he really was. But, then again, he was right. It is none of my business. I mean, I didn't exactly tell him who I was right off the bat. So who's being the hypocrite here?

"You're right…it's none of my business…" I replied in a weak and timid voice. I stirred my coffee with a spoon and poured in some cream. I stared at the swirls I was making in my mug, not really wanting to initiate any eye contact with Squall at the moment. I suddenly felt it would be better for me if I just went back to the counter and forgot all about out little exchange.

"I'll, ugh, just go back now. Sorry to interrupt," I took my mug in my hand was standing back up when Squall's hand reached out and stopped me before I could leave.

"Shit, wait…you don't have to go. I mean, you weren't interrupting anything…too important," he stammered out. I looked down at him and saw him looking back up at me with these puppy dog eyes, how could I just leave? I let out an exasperated breath and unceremoniously plopped back down in the chair. We stayed silent for a couple of moments.

"Would it have changed anything if you had known?" he asked.

"Yes, I would have kicked your ass for what you said to me last night! Let me tell you, Squall, your life if way more esteemed than mine."

"No it's not. For fuck's sake, Rinoa, do you always believe what you read?"

"No, I-"

"Well guess what, this article just conveniently left out the part about him abandoning my sister and I for fifteen years and how we were bounced around through foster homes." He paused for a second; he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Look, can we just start over or something? I promise, I'll tell you the horror story that is my childhood over a campfire or something." His last statement was said with a chuckle as he pleaded with me. All I could do was just sit there in a state of shock. All that I wanted was an omission of truth, but it turns out that we were both hiding something from each other. I knew all too well what he was asking and a wave of relief washed over me, a chance to start over and settle everything.

"Hi, I'm Rinoa Heatilly, ex-pro surfer," I said in all honesty, extending my hand for him to shake.

"I'm Squall, Squall Leonhart, ugh…relative of Laguna Loire," he said while cringing at the last statement and taking my hand in his to shake.

"You mean you're his son, right?" I prodded.

"Unfortunately," he responded with a hint of anger. His father is obviously a touchy subject for him, alright, I'll just leave it there.

"Well, my father is General Caraway of the Galbadian army. I never really got along too well with him. I pretty much hated him all of my life. We never got along, always fighting, and always over the most miniscule things. Hyne, what an asshole he was. I don't even remember the last time that I talked to him was…" I trailed off.

"So you're a pro surfer? For how long?"

"Ex-pro surfer. Oh, only about four years, but I've been surfing all of my life really. That's actually how I met Connor, my ex-boyfriend. I just broke up with him yesterday, and being the media-whore that he is, apparently all of the tabloids say that I am heartbroken. That's news to me."

"It says here 'emotionally distraught'. Oh and here's a direct quote 'I just don't think that I will ever find anyone as kind and caring as Connor was. I don't know how I will go on without him, oh well; life finds a way, right?'" he said in a girly voice and was nearly full blown laughing.

"You shithead! It does not say that!"

"Yeah, it does."

"Let me see that!" I grabbed the paper away from him and read the article for my self, sure enough, it did. "Unbelievable…" I mumbled.

"Don't worry Rinoa, life will find a way." He was mocking me, openly mocking me and all that I could do was glare at him. It was strange really, just a minute ago we were about to start a war with each other, and now we are joking around like two old friends. He was still laughing at me, but my eyes could no longer hold their glare. They began to scan over his body and it was only then that I remembered that he was wearing an unbuttoned shirt. Wow, those are nice. My eyes started to wander down his exposed chest. Before he could catch me I looked back up at his face and was brought out of my reverie by a long scar that ran between his eyes.

"How did you get that scar?" I asked while motioning to his forehead.

"Car accident," he bluntly stated. "Ugh, it was raining and the streets were slippery, and you know how it is…" he looked back down into his mug and he quickly stopped laughing. Okay, another subject not to bring up. Wanting to change the topic quickly I asked another question.

"How did you get that cut above your ear?" his eyes met mine and he corners of his lips began to curl upward.

"I was swimming see, and I got run over by some crazed surfer chick."

"On accident! And I was not crazed!" I vehemently stated.

"Oh right, right, just heartbroken."

"You're such an ass," I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I am to please," he smiled smugly. I was about to say something in return when the sounds of shuffling feet reached my ears. I turned in time to see the waitress emerge from the kitchen and head our way.

"Are you two okay? Do you want to order anything to eat?" the waitress asked us.

"Yeah, I'll have a plain bagel with cream cheese, and a refill on the coffee, please," Squall said. The waitress nodded her head and turned to look at me.

"Ugh…do you have like a cup of fruit? No, no, a bowl of fruit? Or like fruit smoothies by any chance?" I asked. She just nodded her head and walked away. "So, did she get that?" I whispered to Squall.

"Probably not. What's with all the fruit?"

"I've been having really weird dreams about fruit lately. I was actually dancing in a conga line with a banana and…" Oh fuck me! Did I really just say that out loud! Well this is just peachy, now he is going to think that I'm psycho. Oh man, enough with the fruit Rinoa!

"…" he just stared at me with a blank face.

"Yeah, don't ask," ashamed, I looked down into my coffee. "So…tell me about this map," I said in a hushed voice.

Squall told me all about the map and how he had gotten a hold of it. The story sounded fishy to me, almost too unrealistic; almost as if he had been chosen or ordained to receive the map. He had the map with him and let me examine it by sliding it across the table towards me. I unfolded the map and saw a hand drawn coordinate system and three drawn in islands. One large island was drawn in the center of the map with two smaller islands drawn above it. The two smaller islands were situated to the northeast and northwest of the larger island, almost forming the ears on a large head. The island to the northeast had a large star drawn in the center of it. There were illegible markings all over the map, almost in a different language.

"How are we going to get there?" I asked.

"Well, the star is in the center of the island, so we will just walk there." I looked up at him in disbelief and started laughing.

"Squall, have you ever seen a map of Balamb?" He shook his head shyly. "Okay, see this big island? This is Balamb, where we are. This island with the star on it is Ponchi." I stopped to gaze his reaction. "Have you ever been to Balamb before yesterday?" Again he shook his head side to side, allowing his bangs to fall in front of his eyes.

"Well, it's a good thing that you ran into me then…or I ran over you…anyway, this island, Ponchi, is a national wildlife refuge or something. So no one is aloud to inhabit the island. Also, the locals believe that the island is haunted."

"Haunted?"

"Yes. You see many years ago Estharian military forces stumbled upon the island and estabolished a base or something there. Most of the natives believe that weird psychological and scientific experiments were conducted on the island. The test subjects were said to be soldiers within the army or convicts. They were testing to make some sort of 'super soldier'. Horrific noises and eerie lights could be seen and heard fromPonchi at night. The natives are all afraid to venture anywhere near the island."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Hey, believe what you want. I'm just saying that no one is going to be willing to take us anywhere near Ponchi, no matter how much gil we throw in their lap. So again I just have to ask, how are we going to get there?"