JJ awoke with the sun, finding herself wrapped in John B's arms. Her throat tightened at the sight of the bruise marring his left eye. Memories of the previous night flooded back, and she was overwhelmed with guilt. Carefully extracting herself from John B's embrace, she decided she needed some air and opted to take a walk.
John B was startled out of his sleep a couple of hours later by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Blinking away the remnants of a bad dream, he realized JJ was no longer beside him.
He heard footsteps approaching the room and assumed it was JJ, so he was surprised when Sheriff Peterkin walked through his doorway instead. How had she even gotten inside? And where was JJ?
"Get decent, sweetie. We need to talk," she ordered firmly. John B didn't like it, but he complied, meeting her in the living room.
"Sorry to break in like this, but DCS called. They wanted me to check in on you. See how you're doing," Sheriff Peterkin said, her tone serious.
John B felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Shit.
"So, how are you, besides the…" Sheriff Peterkin nodded towards his black eye.
"Oh, no, I'm great. Yeah, fantastic…" John B tried to sound convincing but stumbled over his words, trying to think of what to say. "Thanks for coming by," he added, hoping that would suffice and she would leave now.
She didn't back down. "I'm glad to hear you say that, John B, but I heard a few things that worried me. Let me see if I can remember." She pretended to think while John B decided to tidy up a bit.
"Oh yeah, one of the things I heard was that your Uncle Teddy, your guardian, hasn't been in the state for three months."
"That's false," John B interjected. Fuck.
"You don't have to say anything. I know it's true; I called the school. They said you used to be a good student, but now you're failing all your classes."
"No, no, I'm only failing one, and it's history. He's a dick. He's out for me," John B tried to defend himself, desperation evident in his voice as he pleaded for her to believe him.
"I heard there was a fight on the beach yesterday and a gun was involved," Sheriff Peterkin said, her tone accusatory.
"Okay. Gun? No," John B denied, walking past her nonchalantly. He briefly put a hand on her shoulder, not wanting her to scrutinize his face too closely, knowing he wasn't the best liar. "Did I get in a dustup? Yes. But was there a gun? No. No way," he scoffed, trying to emphasize his point.
"That's okay. I know who it was, I'll get to her. All I'm worried about right now is making sure you're in a safe home," Sheriff Peterkin assured him.
John B felt a deep-seated anger at that thought, reflecting on how nobody had ever intervened to help JJ, despite the obvious signs that something wasn't right. So why would they suddenly care about John B? There had to be something else going on if Sheriff Peterkin was personally involved instead of letting social workers handle it.
"Yeah, super safe," John B replied, his mind racing to understand her true intentions. "Super sound, sturdy… And Uncle T's coming back."
"Is that what he told you?" Sheriff Peterkin asked skeptically, clearly not believing him. "Well, if he really is coming home, I think you should be allowed to stay."
"Thank you," John B said, surprised. What is her angle?
"But if I stick my neck out for you, you have to help me. Tit for tat." Ah, and there it was. John B knew it was too good to be true.
"What— what does 'tat' mean?" he asked, trying to buy himself time.
"Let me see… how can you help me? Oh, I know. So, a body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you in the marsh yesterday?" Sheriff Peterkin asked, her expression indicating she already knew the answer. John B's heartbeat sped up. What was she after here?
"Yeah, we were fishing for some drum," John B said. Technically, that's what they had gone out there for before their run-in with the sunken Grady White, so it wasn't a complete lie.
"You catch anything?" Sheriff Peterkin asked, sounding suspicious.
"Nah, we were skunked," John B replied, trying to sound disappointed.
"Strange. Fishing's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up. You come across a wreck yesterday?" Sheriff Peterkin asked, still in interrogation mode.
A brief pause. Then, "No," John B denied.
She sighed, changing tactics. "You're skimming just above the surface, John B. Down here is foster care, juvie." She gestured with one hand, holding it at her abdomen with a twirling finger. "Pretty steep drop for a smart kid like you." Her hand rose to level with his face. "Up here is you and your little friends doing whatever you want. Outer Banks…" She brought her hand down low again. "Or foster care on the mainland."
John B sat, considering his options.
"You're one inch above the surface, John B. If I were you, I'd start flapping my wings," Sheriff Peterkin said, thinking she was making progress. "Now, are you sure you didn't come across a wreck yesterday?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure," John B answered, his uncertainty about trusting keeping him tight lipped for now. He wanted to talk to the other Pogues.
"It's better if you didn't, you understand?" Sheriff Peterkin said seriously, warning clear in her voice. John B felt the woman could possibly be trusted if circumstances arose that required her help. "I'm going to look the other way as long as you stay out of the marsh."
She turned to leave, but on her way out, she glanced around at the messy living room. "I've got dogs living better than this, John B. You might want to think about cleaning up."
With that, she was gone, leaving John B to contemplate what had just happened and wonder where the hell JJ had gone.
John B threw a nearby empty can at the wall in frustration and put his head in his hands. If DCS was really closing in, then he needed to talk to JJ.
He started typing out a text for her to come home, but after a minute he added Pope and Kie, turning it into a group chat telling them all to meet at his place in 2 hours.
There was a lot to discuss.
Two hours later, the four Pogues gathered outside the chateau. JJ absentmindedly threw rocks, wondering why John B had called for the meeting. She arrived last, sporting new bruises on her torso hidden under her t-shirt. Returning home during her walk for fresh air, she found an unusual solace in the physical pain from her father's punishment, momentarily distracting her from the haunting image of John B lying motionless on the sand and the accusing thoughts swirling in her mind. Her steps were heavy as she joined the group on the porch. John B noticed her slight limp with concern, deciding to inquire about it later.
JJ halted her rock throwing when John B finally spoke up. "Look, I'm calling it off, alright? Peterkin said if I stay out of the marsh, she'll help me with DCS."
JJ wondered when he had spoken to Sheriff Peterkin and since when they started trusting cops.
"And you believe her?" JJ asked skeptically.
"Yes, I believe her, JJ," John B said, and JJ felt an urge to smack him upside the head.
"An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop," she responded incredulously. Is he serious?
"All I gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple of days, and she'll help me out," John B explained, irritation building at JJ's attitude. He was doing this for both of them. If Peterkin could get DCS off his case, then they wouldn't have to run. Not that he had talked to her about his backup plan yet.
"It doesn't help that your ass was the one shooting a gun," he added, cringing at JJ's flinch. He wished he could take back the last part, not even realizing when the thought had formed.
JJ felt like she'd been punched in the gut, though she would have preferred the blows her father had delivered a few hours earlier. 'Your fault!' rang loudly in her mind once again. Despite knowing he was right, JJ did what she always did when hurt—she lashed out.
"You know what I should've done? Just let Topper drown your ass," she says coldly, not meaning a single word, but she wanted him to hate her as much as she hates herself at the moment. She doesn't deserve the worried look he gave her earlier. She's poison and he'd be better off without her bringing him down with her.
"Topper was gonna to drown me?" John B questioned, not believing that Topper would have actually gone that far. He was a bully, sure, but John B couldn't imagine him as a killer.
"It sure seemed like it," JJ replied, her voice tinged with lingering fear. John B watched helplessly as the emotional walls, shattered just the night before, began to reconstruct around her heart. It twisted his insides to see her shutting down like this, and he fought the urge to shake her out of it, to demand she stop pushing him away. He couldn't stand being shut out like this, not one bit.
"Funny," John B remarked dryly, unsure how to navigate this unfamiliar JJ. She had never been like this with him before, and he felt the ache of rejection clawing at his chest. Pope and Kie remained silent, watching the tense exchange with concern, uncertain of what was unfolding as they had never seen their friends so at odds.
"Have you looked in a mirror?" JJ retorted sharply, her words stinging. 'It's your fault!' The accusation echoed loudly in JJ's mind.
That's when John B noticed a fleeting expression in JJ's eyes that betrayed her. Suddenly, everything clicked into place, and he mentally chastised himself for not realizing sooner—it was JJ, after all, the most self-sabotaging person he'd ever known. Of course, she was blaming herself for everything, likely since morning if her disappearance was any indication.
As the pieces fell into place in his mind, he realized with horror that she must have gone back home to punish herself, explaining her limp and appearance at his house for the meeting, looking like she'd been hit by a truck—or Luke Maybank, in her case. He felt incredibly foolish for missing it and had the urge to shake some sense into JJ for being so hard on herself. However, with Kie and Pope nearby, he knew he couldn't confront her just yet. Instead, he attempted to convey through his eyes that he wouldn't let her push him away.
"Tell me more. Come on," he urged gently, locking eyes with her. JJ hesitated, realizing her attempts to push him away had backfired; instead of resentment, his soft brown eyes bore into hers with an intensity that seemed to peer into her soul. A shiver ran down her spine.
"They always win, don't they?" she muttered bitterly, feeling her anger dissipate into a desperate need for him to grasp her frustration. "Kooks versus Pogues. They always win! Damn it!" Her frustration surged anew, this time fueled by the painful truth of her words. With a sudden outburst, she punched a buoy attached to a rope tethered to the porch. Her knuckles stung, but the pain felt strangely satisfying. Years of simmering resentment towards the kooks, who looked down on her, surged through her veins. She felt her eyes welling up with tears, but she refused to let them fall. All she wanted was a victory, just once in her life. She needed it.
"It's okay," Kie said softly, reaching out to comfort her friend. JJ had almost forgotten Kie and Pope were there, if she were honest with herself.
"No, it's not okay!" JJ exclaimed bitterly, her voice tinged with frustration. "It's not! They don't want us going down into the marsh. That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it." She turned her gaze back to John B. "I know you do," she continued, then looked at Pope. "And I understand why you're hesitant. You're the golden boy, you've got too much at stake. And you—" she turned to Kie, her tone sharpening, "I mean, you're already rich as hell. Why bother risking it?"
She turned back to John B, who still watched her with understanding in his eyes. "But you and me, JB, we've got nothing to lose. Really, we don't, right?" Her voice softened, almost pleading now.
"JJ—" John B began, intending to express his concern about potentially losing her, but she cut him off.
"And I know it didn't used to be that way for you—"
Oof. No. Wrong words.
John B interrupted angrily, feeling that JJ had crossed an unspoken boundary by bringing up a sensitive subject. "I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about it," he declared, standing up abruptly and moving to walk past JJ.
"So that's it?" JJ blocked his path stubbornly.
"Move out of the way, JJ," John B said tersely, avoiding her gaze.
"John B, listen to me. I have a plan," she pleaded, abandoning her previous line of argument and playing her final card. "You have the key to Cameron's big boat, right?"
John B still didn't meet her eyes, but she sensed he was listening, allowing a sliver of hope to take hold.
"There's scuba gear. We just borrow that and head down to the wreck this afternoon. That's what's gonna save you. You don't see rich kids ending up in foster care, do you?"
Finally, John B looked her in the eyes. Damn, her blue eyes sparkled with hope, and her plan didn't seem so bad after all. It could work, or if not, they could still run. He found himself seriously considering it.
He never stood a chance, not when she looked at him like that—as if he held the answers to all of life's mysteries, capable of handing her the moon and stars on a silver platter. He realized her face was so close that he could feel her breath on his lips. When had they gotten so close?
Murmuring his agreement softly, he said, "Okay."
Her smile stretched from ear to ear, and that was all the reward he needed. She threw herself into a hug, and he rested his head on hers, allowing himself a slight smile.
Pope and Kie observed the entire exchange, glancing at each other and then at their now-hugging friends, feeling like they'd caught a case of whiplash.
"I think we missed something," Kie whispered to Pope, feeling like she had been caught in a whirlwind of emotions without realizing how one had led to the next.
"Definitely," Pope agreed with a knowing smile. "I've been telling you, they're practically telepathic."
"You're such a nerd," Kie laughed affectionately. Secretly, she couldn't deny there might be some truth to that statement. Kie couldn't quite comprehend it, but the way John B and JJ seemed to communicate without words and how deeply attuned they were to each other was on another level that Kie wasn't entirely sure was healthy. It was as if they gravitated around each other; wherever one was, the other was never far behind.
Sometimes Kie felt a twinge of jealousy, but deep down, she wasn't sure she could handle being that dependent on someone else. So, she watched her friends with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Occasionally, she and Pope even played matchmakers, nudging the two stubborn souls closer together, knowing they belonged despite their own obliviousness.
She leaned her head on Pope's shoulder, grateful to have a friend who shared her bemusement at the insanity that is John B and JJ.
John B and JJ rejoined the group after a moment, outlining their plan. John B would retrieve the scuba gear from Ward Cameron's boat, then swing back to the chateau to pick up the rest of the Pogues before heading to the wreck site.
With that settled, John B departed aboard the HMS Pogue, leaving the others to lounge around, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential contraband they might discover aboard the Grady White.
