Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dylan hardly slept after last night's debacle. It was a great night. A fun one. But it was ruined by her friend's (some over the others) acting stupid. That was the downside of the Outer Banks. You never know what's going to occur. The thought of JJ actually hurting someone made her feel sick. He would never. Not like that. He was just extremely loyal to his friends, especially John B. He could just be incredibly stupid sometimes.
Braxton was eating cereal when she came downstairs the next morning. "Morning, dweeb." She announced herself and ruffled the top of his head when she walked by.
He huffed and moved away from her. "Was there a fight at the boneyard last night?" He asked while she raided the fridge.
Dylan paused and looked at him with furrowed brows. "How do you know about that?" She asked with suspicion.
"Wheezie."
She rolled her eyes. "Ah yes, of course. Your girlfriend."
"Ew, no, never!" He quickly denied. His eyes then lit up. "So there was a fight!"
"Hush!" Dylan hissed. She leaned forward on the counter. "Don't say anything to mom and dad. They'll go crazy."
"So what she said about the gun is true?" questioned with wide eyes.
She groaned. "Again, hush! It's between you and me, okay?"
Braxton scoffed. "Yeah okay, sure. Until word spreads on the island and gets to mom and dad."
She rolled her eyes again. "I'll handle it then. Just keep your mouth shut."
The twelve year old went quiet. He looked at his bowl of cereal and back at her. "You didn't get hurt though, right?"
Her face softened. "Aww, are you worried about me?" She circled around the island and wrapped her arms around his neck. She peppered his cheek with kisses. "Love you, buddy."
Braxton groaned and tried shoving her away. "Okay, you ruined it. Get off me!"
When Dylan arrived at the Chateu, she saw Sheriff Peterson coming out of the home. She slowly got off her bike, feeling wary, and sent the woman a smile. "Good morning, Sheriff Peterkin."
The woman titled her head in her direction. "Good mornin', Dylan. How's your folks doing?"
"Oh, they doing really good. I'll tell them you say hi."
"That'd be wonderful." Peterson replied and got in her cop car.
Dylan quickly shuffled into the Chateau to see John B sitting in his couch with his head in his hands. "Do I want to know why the Sheriff was here?" She questioned. He lifted his head and revealed a big purple bruise around his eye. "Ouch, looks like Topper really can pack a punch."
