Hey guys! I'm totally shocked that people took the time out of their day to read the first chapter. I definitely thought this story would go completely unnoticed, so thank you! Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, the world has been weighing heavy on my shoulders. I live in the States and as I'm sure you all know, shit is NOT sweet over here. And just in case there was any doubt, I am someone who avidly supports the BLM movement and have for many years now. I have been out protesting and my summer classes have just started so my updating schedule will not really be a schedule at all, but please be patient with me. This story has become my escape from the bullshit of daily life lol. So without further ado, chapter two.

I'm laughing. Genuine, bellyaching, sore cheek laughing. If i weren't so enraptured by the obviously hilarious joke Ricky has just told us, I might've realized the sound was foreign, unnatural for me. First strike.

I look to my left as I come down from my laughing fit and get stuck staring at the sun setting on the horizon. You've never seen a true sunset until you're out on a boat, tipsy, in the middle of the marsh in Outer Banks. I'm pulled away from the perfect picture by my twin's voice.

"Hey Ry, hand me a beer could ya?"

"Magic word?"

"Please?" A voice that does not belong to Ricky answers.

I turn to my right and there he is. John B. 13 year old, smart-ass, mop haired John B. with his signature puppy eyed look that quickly turns into a smirk. How could John B. be 13 when I'm still 17? Second strike.

"Whatever," I mutter as I open the cooler and grab two beers.

As I turn around, beers in hand, the tide quickly changes. The beautiful sunset that was there mere seconds ago has turned into the bleak darkness of night. There are no stars. Third strike.

Our boat has gone dark. The only source of light is coming from the full moon surrounded by clouds. A familiar feeling of dread washes over me and my body goes cold. I look at my brother leaning over the edge of the boat trying to hoist our anchor, John B right next to him leaning over just as far. I try desperately to wake myself up, but once it gets to this point it's usually too late.

"Guys don't lean so far over!" I yell.

No response.

"Boys seriously! Get the fuck away from the edge of the boat!"

It's almost as if I'm no longer there with them the way they completely ignore my pleas. I run to pull both of them away from the back of the boat but I'm frozen in place. I can't move no matter how much I will my body to. I go to scream at them again and I'm silent. I try again but to no avail. They cannot hear me. I cannot get to them.

I'm panicking, shaking, looking for anything within my arm's reach to throat at them to get their attention. I realize I still have the beers in my hands and go to chuck one of them, but my arms will no longer move. I'm trying so hard to move or make a noise I feel like my brain might explode, all for nothing.

All of a sudden the boat is moving, fast. The boys are so busy trying pull the anchor up they don't even notice how fast we're going, in the middle of the marsh, with no one steering. They finally get the anchor up and bring it on board, the whole time I'm trying my hardest to scream.

John B. faces away from me, almost as if in trance. Ricky on the other hand turns to look at me. My breath catches in my throat as he looks into my eyes like he knows what's about to happen. He smiles at me and I try with everything in me to scream but nothing comes out. There are hot tears streaming down my face as I turn around to see where we were going, just as we hit land. I see both John B. and Rick fly overboard before I'm hurled into the switchboard.

I wake up drenched in sweat with tears all over my face. All of my dreams had been like that whenever I cried myself to sleep, but this was the first time John B. had ever made an appearance. It was clearly because I had just found out about the news before bed, but that was something I was not prepared for.

"Fuck!" I screamed into my hands. I look at the clock that reads 2:54 a.m. and reach for the water on my nightstand. When did my mom leave the room? How did I get into my bed? Confused and nursing a splitting headache, I reach for my phone to see two texts from Caleb, 3 twitter notifications and an Instagram notification. I read the texts from Caleb first.

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Look at this recipe I found! Come over tomorrow so I can try it on you. ?

Under normal circumstances that would've made me smile, but right now it felt like that was something I could never do again. I check my Instagram notification and am thoroughly surprised by what I see.

One new follower: PrincessTianaa03

I scroll through her page full of pictures of Doll, her pit bull, and the friends she thought were worth posting. All the pictures of me had been deleted. Not surprised. I hovered over the follow button for what felt like 20 minutes. Why was it so difficult to do something so simple as following the girl back on Instagram? Why couldn't I forgive her? No matter how hard I wanted to, I just...couldn't. It felt promising after the diner, but that was before the rain cloud multiplied and became a hurricane. The hurt I felt when she completely cut me out of her life in my time of need was just another layer added to the Ryder Onion; the strongest most impenetrable force in the whole galaxy.

I exited out of the app without following her and went back to my messages. I searched up "JB" and found mine and John B's old messages. He was the only one from the island who kept in touch with me after I left besides Pope, but even my own cousin didn't check up as much as John B. did. Granted our texts went from everyday, to once a week, to once a month, to solely holidays and birthdays, but it was so much more than Pope who was strictly holidays and birthdays from the start, and JJ...who hadn't reached out once since the day I left the island. Another layer.

I know communication is a two way street. I know I could have reached out to them just as much as they could've reached out to me. Pope and I had always just been so different from each other. Of course I loved him and would do anything for him, but we never had a relationship where we texted all the time or hung out a lot one on one, it was always in a group. He was always so much closer to Ricky. I never compared. Me and JJ on the other hand...two peas in a pod. I couldn't even begin to name all the bullshit him and I got into throughout our childhood, us and John B. He understood me more than my own twin. He was my mirror. My confidant. The strongest bond I'd ever formed with someone who wasn't blood. My biggest heartbreak.

I'd never forget the day I told him that I was moving. I'd seen JJ angry many times throughout our childhood, but it'd never been directed at me like it was that day. Now that I've grown (and talked about it relentlessly in my rehab therapy sessions) I understand now that he wasn't angry with me. He was angry at the fact that he was losing someone close to him again, just like he'd lost his mom, and he had nowhere to redirect his anger since I was the only one around. Still, his words stung worse than any jellyfish sting I'd ever experienced in my life.

"If you move off this island, you're dead to me."

I'd cried myself to sleep for 2 weeks. We didn't speak for four. He avoided me like the plague. Never showing up to the Chateau if I was there. Ignoring all my calls and texts. I even showed up at his house one day to give him a piece of my mind but I was met by a tweaked out Luke who had some very colorful things to say about his son hanging around "my kind." That was the first and last time I ever went to JJ's house.

It wasn't until the day I was leaving that I finally saw him again. His lip was busted and his eye was that nasty green color the bruise gets when it's healing. He didn't say a single word while everyone was saying their goodbyes, but I knew it was because of me, marking the beginning of the guilt that's eaten me up for 3 years. He barely even looked at me that day. It wasn't until it was time for me to get on the ferry that he came and gave me the tightest hug I'd ever gotten from him. I cried quietly into his shoulder as we just stood there, surely making my brother, parents, and other friends uncomfortable. Just as he was about to pull away he leaned into my ear and whispered out an "I love you" in a strained voice. Just as quick as the hug started, it ended and I was being pulled away by Ricky and boarding the ferry, looking back at my friends the entire time. That was the last time I'd spoken to JJ in 3 years. That was also the last time I saw John B. in person, alive.

I exit our messages and begin a new one to Pope.

Hey P... I read the ne—

Nope. Jesus Ry you can't start off like that.

Hi cuz... I heard abo—

Oh my god. Just be a fucking human being.

I love you Pope. I'm so sorry I wasn't there.

I yawn as I hit the send button. After I put my phone back on the nightstand and roll over, I think back to the days where me, Rick, Pope, John B., and JJ would spend all day surfing and all night surrounding the bonfire. Looking back now, I realize I'll probably never be as happy as I was when I was surrounded by my salt smelling, law breaking best friends. I feel my cheeks getting wet as I begin crying again thinking about the fact that 2/5 of my chosen family didn't make it to see their 18th birthdays.

Right in that moment I made a promise to myself. I was going to make the first steps to get back to those nights with the family I had left. I was going to let Pope know just how much he meant to me and I was going to make things right with JJ...so help me god.

I woke up again around 5:30 a.m. and at that point I knew I was up for the day. I went to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth as quietly as I could then quickly changed into some leggings and an oversized tee. After I grab my key and wallet I write a note to my parents so they don't wake up and think the worst. 15 year old me would never believe that 17 year old me would do something so considerate, but then again 15 year old me was a selfish bitch who'd get her teeth kicked in if I caught her on the street.

The best part about living in California is the fact that at any time of your day, you can escape to the beach if you needed to. Thankfully we live just 20 minutes away on bike from the Carmel Beach, the place I've spent most of my time since our move. One of the requirements me and Rick had when we found out about the move was that we needed to be as close to the beach as financially possible. Our parents did not disappoint. I knew they missed home just as much as us, if not, more, but they hid it so much better than us. California beaches are complete shit compared to the warm, high waters in North Carolina, but their weather made up for it. So did their Mexican and Chinese food.

I pull up to me and Ricky's favorite spot on the beach and hop off my bike. It's still dark outside but you can tell the sun is getting ready for her shift. Perfect timing. I pull out my hammock from my backpack and set it up between the two trees Ricky and I marked as our own. We used to come to this exact spot almost everyday when we first moved. We'd share the hammock, usually accompanied by a joint, just like we used to do in John B's yard for hours. We were desperately trying to feel at home in a place that wasn't home and never would be. He was the only one who understood what I was missing.

As I lay in the now empty hammock, I pull out my phone and search for the name I haven't needed to find in a surprisingly long time. I look at the last message sent from my sponsor and smile at the picture of her vegetable garden that is flourishing beautifully. Whenever I've had to contact her, I feel like a complete and utter failure, no matter how many times I'm told that I'm stronger than I think because I had the strength to reach out. It never feels that way for me.

Hey Cam. Been a while huh? I'm sure the garden looks even better now closer to summer. I've been having a rea—

All of a sudden, in the middle of my text, my screen goes black then lights up with the face of my cousin. It's about 9:30 in the morning on the island so he's probably enjoying his break from helping Uncle Heyward. Should I let him leave a voicemail? Do I have the mental capacity for this conversation right now? What if I don't get another chance to hear his voice?

"Oh god," I mutter as I hit the green answer button.

The line is silent for a few seconds before I say, "Hello?"

Some more silence...

I can hear waves lapping against what's probably their dock. I can hear boat engines and seagulls and am instantly taken back home, back to the days Rick, Pope and I would just sit on Uncle Heyward's dock with a slurpee. I'm almost brought to tears when Pope finally speaks.

"H— Hey Ry... it's uh... it's Pope."

I would've chuckled if I couldn't hear the sadness in his voice. My heart broke all over again.

"Yeah there's this thing they came up with in the 21st century called caller ID. It's actually pretty tight," I joke to try to lighten the undoubtably heavy mood that's about to follow. Pope laughs, a good hearted, real laugh and I join him.

"You're so stupid," he says in between light snickers. "How's Cali?"

Lonely.

"It's nice," I lie. "My hair loves not living in humidity. We learned quickly though that no one who lives here calls it Cali, weird huh?"

"What do they call it?"

"They say the whole name."

"Huh. Seems like a waste of time."

"So does this small talk."

Oh fuck. I was not supposed to say that out loud. Before I can apologize though Pope is laughing again. This laugh sounds familiar; that laugh where you feel guilty for being happy when there's so many reasons to be upset. I can feel his guilt through the phone, a feeling I know entirely too well.

"I'm sorry Pope, that was rude." I say before he gets the chance to respond.

He giggles quietly for a few more seconds before he stops and takes a deep breath. I can tell immediately the conversation is about to shift.

"Stop apologizing to me Ryder. You have nothing to be sorry for," he begins. "I on the other hand...I'm gonna have to spend my entire life making shit up to you."

"Pope Heyward! Swear jar!"

It's nearly impossible for me to keep a conversation going on a serious track. Serious conversations usually lead to tears and hugs, and yesterday was draining enough.

"I'm serious Ryder. I should've been there for you when Rick—I should've done more than just attend his funeral...I should've—"

"Stop Pope," I interrupt. "Stop. At least you showed up. There was nothing else you could've done, nothing more I could've asked of you."

I thought he'd ignore the slight shade thrown in his friends way, but this was Pope I was talking to.

"He was going to come, ya know?"

My breath hitched.

"He'd scrambled to save up for a ticket and everything. But Luke found the money and by that time it was too late to try again."

"I had no idea," I say defeated.

"Well how could you? He made me swear not to tell you. Said you'd feel guilty. Probably shouldn't have told you now but you need to cut him some slack, he's been my rock out here."

The familiar lump in my throat begins to form at my cousin's words. The bitch in me was almost uncontrollable at this point and I needed to find a way to fix it.

"I'm sorry," I start. "Is he—how is doing? How is he handling this?"

"He's not handling it," Pope says with a sigh. "He's trying to keep himself as busy as possible. The moment he slows down he's overcome with grief so he just...hasn't slowed down. I think it'll be so much worse after the funeral, right now that's what's keeping us—"

"Funeral?" I interrupt. "When's the funeral?"

"A week from Tuesday. I was going to tell you that if you'd let me finish my sentence Ryder."

Nine days. I had nine days to pull some very important strings and get myself home. Home. A home with no Ricky. A home with no John B. A home where I had no idea where I stood with one of the most important people in my life. A home where I didn't even have a bed, let alone a house anymore. I'm pulled from my thoughts by Pope's voice.

"Helloooo? Ry? Shitty fucking cell service god damn it!"

"Swear jar," I chuckle.

"Are you okay?" He asked, fear evident in his voice.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine P, sorry. I actually have to go though. I'll talk to you real soon, I promise."

"Oh uh...yeah okay. I should probably get back to work anyway."

"I um...I love you Pope. It uh...it me—it means a lot that you called. It was great to hear your voice. We'll talk soon I swear."

"I love you Ryder," he says, voice breaking. "Means a lot that you answered."

"Bye, P."

"Later, Ry."

As soon as the call ended I was out of the hammock and biking home, the thought of being back on the island spurring me faster than I've biked in ages. I needed to get my rainy day fund and my laptop to secure my flight ASAP. I needed to tell my parents what was going on but getting the ticket was much more important. For the first time in what felt like ages, I could feel that my smile reached my eyes. I probably looked insane biking down the street grinning like an idiot, but I didn't care. How could I? I was going home.