EFF IT! ➸ jj maybank

001.

She was a storm of a woman, and so, when the most recent hurricane was named Agatha, Sonny wasn't all that surprised. In fact, she laughed like a damn manic. Because it was pretty fucking fitting, wasn't it?

"Jeez, Agatha..." Sonny muttered, stepping outside with a frown on her lips.

She looked around, hands on her hips.

"Couldn't calm ya tits, huh?" She quipped and turned to look at her mother with raised brows, "Reminds me of that other Agatha we know—"

"Sonny," her mom tutted.

Ignoring the small reprimand, because her mother got the reference without any explanation which made her as guilty as Sonny for making it, she continued to peer either way down the street as she stood between the gates to their home. It was as expected for a hurricane — pretty damaged, much like the last one. Trash was tossed about, garages were ruined, and the numbers of roofing tiles on the floor instead of actual roofs couldn't have been a good thing. Hurricane Agatha had definitely stopped by, and she had done one hell of a number on them. Just like her crazy fucking Aunt.

Sonny briefly wondered how the Cut was looking. Likely terribly, considering the sorrowful state of Kook—landia.

Their houses were less enforced than the ones in Kook territory, so she didn't doubt the hurricane proved worse for them. They'd got the worse end of the stick — she could feel it in her gut. But Sonny knew that no one down their neck of the woods would be bothered by it; they never really cared for how south side were dealing on a good day, let alone with the repercussions of Agatha.

   No one cared about the south side.

   That was fact.

   Being a Kook meant being self-involved. None of them gave a flying shit about the Cut, probably never would. They only cared when it came to having workers for their businesses, or people that could fix their houses. South siders would be fixing Figure 8 houses before their own.

That was the way it had been, for as long as Sonny could really remember. People of the south side were different — the lower end of their social divide, which was all a bunch of bullshit to Sonny, but nevertheless an unspoken rule they were expected to follow like cattle.

Sonny never understood it. Well she understood it, but that didn't meant it made sense. Everything was about money these days; if you had no money, you were a no one. You didn't matter. That was why most of the kids living in the Cut would never amount to anything, which sounded cruel, but it was true, and pretty fucking shit. All of them knew it, though. Kooks got the opportunities because they had the money and the privilege. The white kids, especially; who didn't even know how well they actually had it. Or they did and took full advantage.

   Those ones were the worst.

Instinctively, her eyes travelled left, following the street up and right, as far as they could go. If you kept going in that direction, not that you'd want to, you'd end up at Tanneyhill, the Cameron's Estate.

"Ew!"

How apt.

Brows furrowed, Sonny watched her father flick his hand. She rolled her eyes when she spotted the gum wrapper stuck to his palm, "You're pathetic."