Kook King

The Cut

The bass of the music vibrates under my bare feet as I trudge through the wet sand to my friends, Ava Wilson and Deirdre Mulryan. They wave at me from afar, ushering me over. Thankfully, I've found them before it gets too dark, or else I would spend the entire night searching for them within the mass of people. I hug them when we finally reach each other.

"I'm ready to get drunk, let's go!" Deirdre shouts over the music.

My best friend, Ava, rolls her eyes with a smile. She's short-- shorter than me and Deirdre-- and she has pale skin with faint freckles all over her cheeks and straight, brown hair. One look at her and anyone would assume she could be easily taken down, but she's fierce and sassy, and she always tells people straight up how it is. That's what I appreciate about her. That's why we've been friends for so long; because she's always there for me when I'm not there for myself.

Deirdre, on the other hand, is sweet and quiet. She's the one who says, "Guys, please, let's get along" when Ava and I butt heads. She's taller than me, also with brown hair, but hers is wavy. She could be a model with her sharp jawline and slender figure, but she'd say she's too modest to do something like that. She's also super loyal and I love that she balances out our friend group.

Just like Deirdre said, I'm ready to get drunk, too. It's another night in the middle of summer at The Boneyard where the best parties are always in swing. Well, sometimes they're the best. Sometimes they can get a little crazy.

I look back over my shoulder to try and find a keg or an ice cooler filled with bottled beers. "I'm gonna go look for some!" I say, and I depart from them again.

The Boneyard is a long strip of beach with crystal blue water that laps up against the sandy shore. Over time, the tide has brought large tree branches up on the sand that no one really moves so they're just there. Tall, spindly trees loom in the background, and they look especially creepy at night, which is when all of the parties are. The Boneyard is on The Cut side of the island and it's the perfect place for some wild pogue parties. Once the sun sets, the beer comes out, the bonfire is started, and the music is blasting until someone complains. Either that, or someone starts a fight and the cops come, forcing everyone to make a break for it. It's about the only times kooks and Pogues willingly hang out together. Otherwise, we like to occupy opposite sides of the island.

For as long as this island can remember, kooks have occupied Figure 8 and have had everything handed to them from generations of money dating back to colonial times. It shows in their houses, too; their beautifully manicured mansions, their hundred thousand dollar cars, and their ridiculously large yachts that are mostly used for champagne parties and charity events. Meanwhile, pogues have known struggle for just as long. Our houses are shacks compared to kooks'. To drive through our side of the island, The Cut, is almost like driving through a post-war zone. Houses are lopsided, lawns have overgrown, and you usually see kids just hanging out on a Saturday afternoon.  

Ava and Deirdre squeal with excitement as I hand them their beers. "Mmm, I can't wait to get plastered," Ava, says, taking a big sip. The rest of us giggle, agreeing. Meanwhile, I recognize some people from around The Cut or my classes during the school year. It's funny how so many people look so different in the summer, just from the shade of their hair or skin, or the new clothes they haven't had the chance to wear in the hallways yet.

I scan the crowd until my eyes land on a familiar face, which makes me smile. JJ sees me a second after I see him and we wave at each other. I saw him earlier today, but I have to go and say hi.

He opens his arm for a hug when I approach him, his face hidden behind his signature pair of aviators. I slip them off the bridge of his nose and put them on mine, giggling. "You like?"