CHAPTER ONE
HURRICANE SEASON
"say he likes crazy girls"
˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚
"IS that a pair of leggings I see?"
Farrah Montgomery; the complete and utter embodiment of evil itself. The devil took human form in the five foot two, exactly one hundred and nineteen pounds of girly evil. At first glance, one would assume Farrah was anything but a pogue. Her slick dark hair, judgemental honey brown eyes with just a spark of wickedness. Her makeup and skincare routine combined probably cost more than the average pogue spent on necessities, the girl being a living, breathing reminder just how unjust the world could be. Her horribly kook attitude didn't help her cause, not one bit.
Though harboring both the looks and personality of a kook, there was no changing the fact that the Montgomery girl took up residence at The Cut. As much as Farrah liked to play pretend, she still attended the public high school and she still went home to her two dads every day after school— who were desperately trying to make ends meet. As much as people liked to judge the girl for trying to be something she wasn't, everyone was unconsciously jealous of her. Somehow she managed to get the grades and clean up all the while maintaining a high social status. It was a miracle— it was Farrah.
"How many times do I have to tell you— leggings are not pants. Do you want me to throw up?" Her dark eyes were scrutinised on the leggings cladding her friend's legs.
Millie Parker made up one third of the clique that ruled Kildare High. One could label the girl a sheep, her only personality trait being following after Farrah like a lost lamb. The Parker girl was mean and a horrible gossip mongrel. She alone kept rumours alive at the high school. If someone as much as looked in someone else's direction, Millie knew about it. And she weaponised it as best as she possible knew how to. Farrah only kept Millie around to stay ahead of the curve. No one dared cross her knowing her best friend knew their every last secret.
Last part of the clique led by Farrah was Lance Kepler. Lance happened to be Farrah's best friend since forever. It just so happened that Farrah's dads were best friends with Lance's parents. The two basically grew up together, having shared bubble baths and slept in each other's beds since diapers. Lance was a whole lot meaner than any of the two girls, but with good reason. His dad was a complete jerk— he never missed an opportunity to point out Lance's every flaw. In truth, the only break from reality he got was when he was in Farrah's presence.
Many often wondered how the hell any one could possibly tolerate being friends with someone like Farrah. She had absolutely no filter, and rumour had it that she genuinely enjoyed the fear she struck into her fellow peers. But they didn't know her like Lance did. The girl was mean, yes. She never watched her mouth around anyone. But no one defended him as fiercely as she did. And with Farrah on his side, no one dared speak one word wrong to him. In his eyes, Farrah was the best thing to happen to him.
"I think they look cute." Millie defended as she looked at the fresh pair of leggings. But despite her best attempt to remain confident in the outfit she was in, Farrah's judgy eyes on her was enough to make her crumble. Without another word, the girl scurried away to change.
The second she was out of ear shot, Lance's laughter rumbled. "You're such a bitch." Lance was pretty much the only person on the island who dared go up against the Montgomery girl. Not that he ever did. The two were usually on the same page.
"Whatever. Those leggings made me want to gauge my eyes out." Farrah spat in annoyance. "Who ever said tights are pants?"
"Someone in severely need of a lobotomy, obviously."
Lance and Farrah were currently parked outside of Millie's house. Summer was in, and the trio intended to spend it tanning on the beach at day, and partying at night. Despite crowned as the pogue princess, Farrah managed to land an invite to every party on the island— kook and pogue. An honorary kook if you will. Maybe it was her striking appearance, or maybe it was the attitude problem, but Farrah remained the only pogue kooks didn't mind having around. It only furthermore boosted her delusion that she was better than the rest of the habitants of The Cut.
Millie was quick to change out of the hideous leggings, sliding into the back of Lance's car. The ride to the beach was short, and Farrah was happy when her feet hit the sand. The golden hues of sand stretched along the shoreline, the ocean kissing it softly with the waves lapping over the sand. Her purple bikini complimented her skin as she sat down on the towel neatly stretched on the ground.
Lance and Millie indulged in a lengthy conversation surrounding whatever superficial topic they found important while Farrah stared off into the water. Her tawny eyes slipped over his body as he manoeuvred through the waves, the water grazing his glistening skin glowingly.
John Booker Routledge. With tousled tawny dark hair and eyes so amber any girl could go weak in the knees. The Routledge boy was loud and outgoing, his friend group consisting of fellow pogues. Farrah never really interacted with him, what with wanting to keep herself clean of any stds he without a doubt carried. It was a known fact around the island that he got around. And Farrah wasn't one for leftovers.
"He's so hot." Millie sighed from between Lance and Farrah as she followed Farrah's gaze. The three watched the dark haired boy exit the water, his surfboard tucked neatly underneath his arm.
"Waste of a good face if you ask me." Lance sighed as he pulled his sunglasses off. "I mean— you'd have to have zero self respect to get with him, right?"
"Right. He gets around." Millie hummed in agreement.
"M, you get around." Farrah snapped back, tearing her gaze away from the boy. The Parker girl went red in embarrassment.
Lance hummed in amusement. "At least she's not stuck on some psychotic boy." Although true, his words were nothing but harmless. The two could hurl insults back and forth in lightheartedness. Millie was different; she was more sensitive. There was nothing wrong with the slight bit emotional girl, but between Farrah and Lance she often times fell offended or embarrassed. It was the cost of befriending the duo.
Farrah had a horrible habit of ending up with the wrong guy. She wasn't quite sure if it was something about her that attracted them, or if it was something about them that attracted her. Either way— the Montgomery girl just wouldn't stop falling for grade A assholes. And Rafe Cameron was a whole other level of asshole.
The girl had managed to go the longest time without letting anyone know there was anything happening between her and the Cameron boy, but Lance knew her better than anyone. And when he saw the stolen glances whenever in the presence of Rafe, he put two and two together. Millie had yet to be filled in on the fact. Farrah had demanded Lance didn't tell her. It wasn't like she did it to purposely leave the girl out, but she just couldn't be trusted. The girl was a yapper to anyone who would listen, and Farrah didn't need the entire island knowing about her fling with the Cameron boy.
Rafe used to be the guy every girl wanted. That is until he dropped out of college and ended up as a graduated high schooler with nothing to do but coke. Okay, so the latter part was a recent development. Everyone knew the boy was a party animal, they just didn't know how hard of a partier he could be. But being with Rafe gave her the inside to every kook party worthy of attending, and to Farrah that meant everything.
For now Lance was the only one who knew. Well, at least the only pogue that knew. Farrah had made it a point to tell Rafe to keep whatever was going on between them under wraps. Hopefully he was obeying. In all probability, he was. The Cameron boy absolutely worshipped the ground she walked on. Something about the innocence she harboured starkly contrasting her undying ability to have someone turn away with her withering glare made him weak in the knees for her. It worked out perfectly for them as Farrah venerated being worshipped.
The trip to the beach lasted for a few hours before the three decided they'd had enough, and that retreating back home before the hurricane that was said to hit arrived. Hurricane Agatha was, according to the news, going to be quite the storm. Farrah's dads had been reluctant to let her leave the house that morning, but her persistent nature always led her to winning the argument.
"Hey, I think I'm just going to walk home."
When the words fell from her lips, Lance and Millie didn't think anything of it. The Montgomery girl would claim that walking purified her soul— meditation for the ones who couldn't be bothered sitting at home doing breathing exercises. She didn't have the patience for that. So they bid her goodbye, confident she'd make it home before the hurricane hit.
Farrah had every intention of reaching home before the storm hit. There was scarcely any clouds in the sky when they left the beach. But within minutes the blue sky was no longer visible. In its stead were threateningly dark clouds, the heavy rain soaking her effective immediately.
It was purely coincidental when the car whipped down the road, his honey eyes falling on her. Her arms were wrapped around herself as her clothes clung to her body. The car slowed down next to her, a charming grin on his lips.
"Well, you're the last person I expected to see wandering during a hurricane."
Farrah had to stifle the eye roll as she glanced through the rolled down window. John B. Farrah wasn't all that surprised to see him after spotting him surfing at the beach. He was, after all, one of the only ones stupid enough to go surfing right before a hurricane. It was a very typical thing for someone as reckless as John B to do.
John B was to be classified as an orphan. The news of his father's disappearance spread throughout the island like wildfire. Big John had gone missing out on the water nine months prior— presumed dead. Farrah never really spoke to anyone outside of her circle of friends, but she had certainly noticed the Routledge boy.
His chiseled jaw was striking, bronze skin decorated with sun kissed freckles. The shaggy brown hair fell into loose curls. John B was undeniably handsome. But he was a pogue through and through, which meant associating with him was pretty much social suicide with the residents of Figure Eight. Therefore, Farrah kept a fair distances from him.
"John B— you've taken up stalking now I see." She hummed as she hugged herself in an attempt to stop shivering. Her cold and wet clothes were making it hard.
"Ah, you know me so well. Want a ride?"
The girl forced a hand through her wet hair. "And risk getting whatever disease this piece of junk is clearly harbouring? Thank you, but no thank you." She sassed, staring at the car in disgust.
"You're going to walk all the way home in this weather?" John B hummed, enjoying tormenting the girl. The wheels churned in her pretty little head as she debated her options. Risk death by falling tree or whatnot in a hurrican— or contracting something from the shitty van? While the latter was a much, much more embarrassing way to go, the thought of trekking on in this weather didn't seem too tempting.
"Fine." She groaned in defeat. "I better not get rabies or whatever."
He chuckled as he leaned over to open the car door for her. "As long as you're vaccinated, I think you'll be fine." He teased as she climbed into the passenger seat. She didn't find him funny, making so much evident as she flashed a very obviously fake smile at him.
The soft hum from his radio and the constant tapping from the rain occupied the otherwise silence atmosphere of the car. Farrah pulled out a bottle of disinfectant from the small bag slung over her shoulder, the smell strawberry letting John B know it was scented. The scent of warm vanilla perfume had filled the car the second she got in, now mixed with the strawberry scented antibacterial.
His gaze kept shifting from between the road and her. "Eyes on the road, I'm not dying in this thing." Her attitude about, well most everything, was off putting to most. But something about her rude comments made John B want to laugh— like he knew it was just a tough exterior.
"Shit." The Routledge boy groaned when he saw the tree splayed across the road leading to her house. "Looks like you're not going home."
"Is this some elaborate plan you have just to spend time with me, Booker? There's no way." Farrah whined when she say the tree. "That's it, I'm walking." She decided as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
"What— no! You'll make it three feet max before the winds take you." John B interfered with her plans. "You can ride the storm out at the chateau."
"The chateau? Is that a hotel or something?" Farrah questioned in clear sarcasm. "You just want me to come home with you."
It was his turn to roll his eyes. "If you want to walk that's fine by me." He shrugged. Farrah opened her mouth to state just how much she would rather walk home in this weather than spending any more time with him, but the sight of a branch flying across the road made her lips smack shut. Reluctantly, she buckled her seatbelt again. "That's what I thought."
If it hadn't been for the fact that Farrah herself lived on The Cut, she would have made it a point to judge John B's home. The place was as small and as old as her own one, which left no room for judgement. So she kept her glossed lips shut as she patiently waited for John B to open the door to the passenger seat for her.
"What, can't open it yourself?" John B scoffed when he opened the door for her.
She swung her legs out, freshly painted fingernails digging into his shoulder as she grabbed onto him for support. "I'm not touching that door handle." The dark haired stated as she jumped to the ground. A frown spread across her lips when she landed on the green grass, praying that her white sneakers wouldn't stain.
The two rushed towards the chateau, John B opening the door. Before he could enter himself, she slipped in, muttering a 'thank you' for holding the door. He rolled his eyes as he too stepped inside. The boy tossed the keys to the side carelessly as he pulled his soaked t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside as well.
"You're already getting naked— they truly underestimate how much of a whore you are." The girl scowled dramatically as she turned away from him. John B couldn't help but to chuckle as he retreated to his room. He returned a moment later, this time wearing a dry shirt and clenching two articles of clothes in his hand. In one swift motion, he threw them at the girl. Farrah clumsily caught them, a look of distaste gracing her eyes as she looked at the tshirt and shorts he had thrown at her.
"What is this?"
"Dry clothes." John B answered with a shrug as he flipped down onto the couch.
Farrah snorted in disbelief. "I'm not wearing this." She decided. John B shot her a knowing look. For the millionth that evening, she groaned in defeat, realizing that there was no way she could remain in her wet clothes without getting sick. "Where's the bathroom." She sighed. He pointed her in the direction. The second she entered the crammed bathroom, she pulled her phone from her pocket. She made sure to shoot her dads a text explaining why she hadn't returned home yet ( only she lied about staying at Lance's ). Getting into dry clothes was a relief— almost so much so that she forgot how horribly unflattering the oversized shorts and tshirt really were on her.
By the time she returned to the livingroom, John B had pulled out a few candles to light up the otherwise dark house. With the hurricane raging, the power was out. His eyes landed on her when she entered the room, a grin gracing his lips. Farrah was one of those girls he'd always watched from afar, but never really interacted with. She was this populare hot mean girl that every pogue knew of. JJ never stopped yapping about how good she looked, and Kiara never stopped complaining about how much of a bitch the Montgomery girl really was. Still, John B enjoyed watching her from afar, silently wondering if she was anything like the idea he had created in his head of her.
"How about a beer?"
˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚
To confidently say Farrah was overwhelmed with relief when she finally snuck back home would be an understatement.
The storm had barely settled when she decided to take her opportunity to sneak off before John B had the chance to wake up. Both of them had fallen asleep after a couple of beers shared over a game of cards. Not that she would ever admit to it, but she actually found herself enjoying hanging out with the Routledge boy. In spite of wearing the horrible looking clothes, the only thoughts lingering on her mind were the jokes shared between the two. Farrah could barely recall the last time she'd had a conversation as genuine as the one they'd had. And as tragic as it was, she wanted to cherish it. But when she woke up next to him on the couch and realized they fell asleep next to each other, she was quick to gather her things and leave.
Shockingly enough both of her dads were awake when she finally arrived back home early in the morning. Well, it wasn't really that shocking. While the residents of the Southside house's were completely trashed from the storm, the residents of Figure Eight were desperate to have someone else clean up their mess. And as Bryan and Phillip needed the money, they woke up early in the morning to get ready to clean up the northside of town.
"Who's clothes are those?" Had been the first words to leave Phillip's mouth when he saw the ragged shorts and tshirt cladding his daughter's body.
"It's Lance's. I needed a change." She'd simply responded, holding her wet clothes up for emphasis.
"Lance wears that?" One of the many criterias of being friends with Farrah was a good sense of fashion. Lance naturally looked the part. He was as picky about what he wore as Farrah was, which made it unbelievable that he'd ever wear something as ragged at that.
"We literally live on the Cut, dad. It's not like any of us can afford something better." Her tone came off way harsher than intended. It wasn't like her dads would mind terrible to know she'd been hanging around John B. In fact, they had encountered the Routledge boy on numerous occasions— all of which had been pleasant and polite. But Farrah was a private person, and the thought of her dad's nagging her about John B didn't sound especially tempting. Without a doubt would they leak the information accidentally to either Millie or Lance, neither of which would ever let her live it down. So, she settled for lying. A means of escape she often defaulted to.
When Farrah received a phone call later that night inviting her to a beach kegger at the boneyard she jumped at the opportunity.
The boneyard was a beach located on the Cut. It also happened to be one of the few places where kooks and pogues could somewhat peacefully coexist. Keggers were commonly thrown at the beach, and tonight was no different. Farrah was more than ready to let her hair down and get absolutely shit faced. The damage of the hurricane had left the Southside of town without power or running water, which meant that the girl had pretty much nothing to do other than drinking the night away. Fortunately for her, Lance was as pumped as she was. Millie had prior obligation, so she wouldn't be attending.
Some would describe the boneyard as a three layered burrito. The layers consisted of the working class derelicts also known the pogues, the kooky rich second homers and finally the tourons. The last layer were totally clueless there-for-a-week teenagers looking for a good time. They also happened to be Farrah's personal favorite of the bunch. The tourons were completely clueless to the ongoing war between the kooks and the pogues, and were like completely chum to the sharks.
A whistle of approval sounded from Lance when he pulled up infront of her house to pick her up. Farrah had managed to throw on a pretty impressive outfit. Her hair looked disgusting due to not having showered, so the Montgomery girl had forced her hair into a ponytail to mask how frizzy it was.
Lance and Farrah hooked their arms together as they arrived at the beach. Loud music sounded as they approached. The sun had just began setting when they first arrived and it didn't take long for Farrah to disband from her friend when a hot touron approached her offering beer. The girl wasn't really a fan of beer— but then again she wasn't really fan of any alcohol. As long as it got her drunk, she had no preferences.
The soft flicker of the bonfire alongside the moon were the only two things illuminating the otherwise dark night. The blazing sun had slipped down into the ocean, leaving way for a starry night. John B sat next to Pope and JJ as they sipped beers. Kiara was without a doubt somewhere discussing the state of the environment while the John B let it slip to the two boys next to him who he had spent his night with.
Kiara Carrera made up the only female part of the four way group of pogues that routinely hung around each other. The Carrera girl was commonly referred to as the kook gone pogue. Her parents resided on Figure Eight alongside the rest of the island's kooks. They owned the Wreck, a restaurant that was a complete cash cow with the tourists. The girl spent her time advocating on behalf of Mother Nature all the whilst listening nonstop to Bob Marley. She also dressed like a complete hobo— at least according to Farrah. Kiara and Farrah never got along, mostly because Kiara found the Montgomery girl's attitude completely insufferable, and Farrah found Kiara to be terribly hypocritical. That, and just plain out annoying.
"You were with Farrah Montgomery?! Bro, no way!" JJ Maybank exclaimed loudly in disbelief. "I don't believe you. There's just no way."
With tousled blonde hair and eyes so cerulean one could drown in them, JJ Maybank was the third addition to the friend group. The boy was impatient, horribly reckless and was either to be found drunk or high at all times. He also happened to have the worst dad ever— all of his friends were aware yet never dared to bring the topic up. The Maybank boy was a horrible flirt, and got around ten times the amount John B did. But his wild sense of humour and crazy ideas made him the perfect addition to the group of four.
"Yes way. She was at the chât last night, I swear." John B defended as the three boys stared at the girl in question. Her legs were stretched out in front of her as she sipped beer from a red solo cup. The girl was surrounded by tourons and kooks alike, all of the boys pretty much drooling over her.
"I'll have to agree with JJ on this one." Pope spoke up.
Pope Heyward was the fourth and last part of the friend group. The dark skinned boy was the brains of the group. Farrah had partnered up with the Heyward boy a handful of times at school in hopes of getting good grades, but other than that the two never spoke. Pope was a kind hearted and smart kid, which made it odd that he chose to hang out with someone JJ and John B. Still, there was no one on the island as close as the four.
"I'm telling you guys. I was giving her a ride and there was a tree in the middle of the road so she stayed at the château till the hurricane stilled." John B continued.
"Sure." JJ hummed sarcastically.
"You expect us to believe that the Farrah Montgomery got into the Twinkie, by choice? Yeah, absolutely no way. Nope." In their defense, the likelihood of Farrah actually getting into the beat up old van by choice equalled close to zero percent. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, it simply wouldn't have happened. Ever.
JJ and Pope quickly began poking fun at their friend. John B rolled his eyes as he got to his feet, heading in the direction of the keg to get a refill. He couldn't be bothered listening to them roast him any further. Halfway there, a hand clapsed around his wrist, tugging him to a more secluded area of the beach. His back hit a tree as she pushed him out of view from the crowd of partygoers. John B's eyes fell on the short dark haired girl, a playful grin falling on his lips as he realized who it was.
"Missed me so soon?" He chuckled, quirking an eyebrow down at her.
Farrah rolled her eyes. "I'm here to make sure you don't tell anyone about last night."
"Ah, damaged control."
"If you will." The dark haired girl crossed her arms over her chest. "My social status would seriously plummet if I were to be associated with you."
"Is that why you're standing so close?"
His words caused her to take a big step back. Her dark brown eyes narrowed at him, annoyance sparking as she glared at him. "Just keep your mouth shut, Routledge. Got it?"
"Can't get enough of me Montgomery, huh?" He called after her as she left him standing.
Farrah felt heated as she returned to the crowd of people. The girl was swift to refill her cup with even more beer, chugging it before mindlessly tossing the cup aside. Lance was still nowhere to be seen, so Farrah made the desicion to approach the first familiar face she saw. Topper was standing alongside his girlfriend Sarah Cameron when Farrah approached the two.
"Farh, hey! Didn't know you were coming tonight." Topper greeted joyfully.
While Topper and Farrah got along greatly, Sarah and Farrah didn't really know each other. Sarah was the kook princess. Everyone knew and adored the blonde haired girl. Everyone but Farrah. She didn't have anything particular against the girl per say, but her horribly bubbly personality made the Montgomery girl nauseous. She just couldn't wrap her head around someone being so sweet and nice. There had to be a catch, there just had to be one.
"It's a party. Of course I'm here." The girl replied matter of factly. Sarah offered the girl a warm smile, which she half heartedly returned. Before any more words could be exchange, a certain blonde pogue approached the three.
"Hey, Sarah." At the sound of her name, the girl glanced up in confusion. "Can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?" The boy queried as he extended the red cup to her. He tilted his head teasingly, a few strands of his unruly, tousled blonde hair falling across his forehead. Farrah turned around to see JJ staring at them with a lopsided grin, his eyes hazy from the alcohol.
"No thank you." Sarah politely declined. Topper straightened his back and puffed his chest out from next to his girlfriend, an act that caused Farrah to snort. The Maybank boy redirected his attention over to her, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Farrah, how about you? Fancy a drink?" He waved the red solo cup infront of the girl temptingly. His hopes of her accepting were crushed when she offered him a look of rejection.
"I'll pass."
"What? Is it not fancy enough for you?" He continued tauntingly, a hint of annoyance lazed in his words. The rejection from the Montgomery girl ticked him off, causing him to click his jaw tensely.
"No we were just leaving—" Sarah quickly began excusing her desicion to decline, but Topper cut in before she managed to.
"Hey, you know what? I'll take it." Topper interjected, reaching for the cup. "Thank you, man. I appreciate it."
The blonde pogue recoiled the cup. "That's nice Topper, but I didn't ask you. Now if you said pretty please, maybe. But you didn't so." His focus shifted back over to the Farrah. "The offer still stands if you want it, princess."
The nickname caused her to furrow her brows, but before she could reply, Topper scoffed. "Oh, pretty please." He sarcastically spat, reaching for the cup once again. JJ ignored him, extending the cup to Farrah, but before she could do anything Topper smacked the cup out of the pogue's hand, causing it to spill all over JJ and some on Farrah.
"Hey, watch it. You got beer all over me." Farrah exclaimed in annoyance as the beer dropped down her now see through white top. JJ shot forward, grabbing Topper's shirt aggressively as he shoved the kook.
"No, no, no!" John B hastily intervened, pushing JJ away from the brewing fight. Pope stepped into view, helping John B hold the Maybank boy back. "Hey—"
"Dirty pogues!"
The insult was the last drop. John B reeled around at the insult, violently shoving Topper. The shove took him by suprise, causing him to stumble. Sarah quickly shot forward, trying to talk her boyfriend down.
"John B, we're suppose to be incognito, remember?" Pope spoke harshly as he tried to break up the fight. His words fell on deaf ears.
Topper shrugged Sarah aside as he threw a punch directly in John B's face. Farrah's eyes widened at the sickening crack that sounded. The crowd grew rowdier as they chanted for a fight, a wish that got granted by Topper's fist crunching against John B's jaw yet again. The punch knocked John B to the ground, the waves soaking his body as he fell at the shore.
"Topper stop!" Sarah exclaimed loudly as knuckles connected to flesh. The two boys threw punches back and forth, no one daring to intervene. "Top— enough!"
"Topper!" The Thorthon boy ignored them as he continued throwing punches, dangerously close to the shoreline. Farrah could feel her anxiety spike watching her friend violently beat John B. It was as if neither one of the boys could even hear their friends yelling for them to stop.
The waves lapped at their bodies as they continued trashing around in the water. The crowd was growing rowdier by each second, chanting in favor of the fight. Farrah desperately tried to see past the alcohol haze hanging over her like a veil. The girl watched in horror as Topper beat the shit out of the pogue. JJ lurched forward to join in, but his friends quickly tugged him back. Pope and Kiara desperately tried holding him back, knowing that he'd only make things worse.
"Come on!" John B yelled as he dodged a punch. "Come on Topper! Let's go!" He continued, jeering for the kook to continue. The two were completely drenched in salt water.
"Hey John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, alright?" Topper sneered as he stepped back. As he turned to leave, John B launched himself at him, pulling him right back into the water.
"Topper, stop!" Sarah cried as she reached the shoreline. She moved to go in, but a fellow kook held her back.
Topper quickly switched places, his tall frame towering over John B as he held him down. The pogue gasped for breaths every chance he got, but Topper forced his head underwater. Farrah's eyes widened when she realized what he was doing. She tore away from the cheering crowd, grabbing ahold of the JJ's arm. "You have to do something, he's going to drown him!" Farrah plead with wide eyes.
Farrah Montgomery never begged, but something about the desperation in her voice caught the Maybank boy's attention. His azure eyes stared down at her for a moment. Then, he nodded, striding into the water to the two boys. No one had expected his next move. He pulled a gun from his waistband, threatingly pressing it against the back of Topper's head. He switched the safety off, causing the kook to freeze. He held his hands up in surrender, allowing John B to breathe. "Yeah, you know what that is. Your move, broski."
"JJ has a gun!" A voice exclaimed from the crowd when they caught a glimpse of the metal object. Farrah could feel her breath hitch in her throat as the crowd broke off.
"JJ, chill!" One of the blonde's— JJ's friends yelled. Kiara yelled out similar protest, voice raw. He didn't seem to care as his grip tightened around the weapon.
"JJ— stop. Put the gun down, please." Farrah took daring strides closer to the Maybank boy, her arms extended infront of her body.
"Did you say something, princess?" The gun wielding boy barely spared a look over his shoulder as he pressed the gun against Topper's head. The crowd that had previously jeered on for the fight was now scattered as they rushed away from the scene. Sarah yelled for JJ to stop, but he awaited Topper's next move. "We're good— we're good. Alright?" Topper exclaimed, his hands shaking as he held them up. JJ nodded, satisfied with the answer.
"Kie, can you check your pshyco friend, please!" Sarah cried.
JJ stepped away from Topper, allowing him to stumble back onto the sand. Sarah quickly threw her arms around him as they began to leave. "Okay, everyone listen up— get the hell off of our side of the island!" He fired two warning gunshots into the air. The fleeing crowd of teenagers yelled out in terror as they ran. Farrah felt someone grab ahold of her hand, relief washing over her when she realised it was Lance.
"Time to leave." Farrah nodded at his words, taking off running in the direction of his car. She spared a last glance in the direction of the pogues. Kiara and Pope yelled at JJ, but Farrah were too far away to catch what they were saying.
JJ's cerulean eyes connected with her terror stricken ones before she disappeared into the crowd.
word count; 6014
a/n
hi lovelies ! what do we think of the first chapter ? definitely want to do longer chapters for this book, hopefully i won't slack off hehe. anyways, what do we think of farrah ? definitely planning on a whole lot of character development for our girl ! she needs it lol. hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, see you at the next one ! stay tuned
Follow|Vote|Comment