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.*･｡. EFF IT! .*･｡.
————PILOT
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004.
CATCH OF THE DAY.
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The first time Sonny snuck out, she was fourteen.
She was always lucky to have a lot of freedom growing up. Her parents never caged her in. That said, Sonny never went anywhere. Not often enough to have a curfew or anything. It wasn't like that with the Penbrook's.
Not until Sarah Cameron's birthday party that year, when their whole class at Kook Academy had been invited. Sonny wasn't all too enthralled by the idea but Topper had insisted they go — mostly because he had a crush on Sarah, but also because Rafe would be around and wherever Rafe Cameron went, alcohol went with him.
It was the first time her parents said no.
Looking back, she couldn't really blame them. It was the night before their annual social services inspection, where a stuck up woman would come from the mainland and give a general well-fare check. Make sure it was all smooth sailing, even after all these years. As a result, they needed Sonny on her best behaviour, rightfully so, which meant no parties on a private boat — no matter how cool it sounded, her dad had said.
Initially, Sonny didn't care.
She hadn't wanted to go anyways. But, when Topper had shown up at her window, begging her to go with him, Sonny couldn't quite resist.
For the drink, for the boat, for the thrill of doing what she was told not to. Maybe even for Topper.
So, that night, Sonny snuck out her window.
Of course, she was caught sneaking back in — her parents were too observant for their own good — and grounded for a week (showing up to that meeting looking like death warmed up was punishment enough), but it didn't deter her. The next time the chance to sneak out came around, she made sure to do it right. To not get caught. And each time she did it, Sonny got better, until eventually she was a master. One even the sheriff couldn't catch.
So what the fuck was that?
Sonny was fucking baffled, honestly.
She thought about it the whole way back to Tim Jones' old boat shop, where she'd dropped off the LIBERTY and its keys without getting caught out — luckily.
It was good, really, since she'd had the boat longer than she intended. But Tim had only smiled at her and waved, like the missing boat wasn't even on his agenda. Perhaps it wasn't. Or maybe it was, but he knew it was with Sonny. Maybe Tim was getting too old to care.
"Penbrook," he said to her.
She nodded, murmuring his name, and gave him a half-hearted salute as she left.
Her mind was completely elsewhere.
Elsewhere being the motel room, the gun, and JJ Maybank. Freaking Maybank.
Sonny was no angel. She smoked, she drank, she took boats and surfboards without permission, and she even did a couple dodgy deals on the side for a while. But Sonny could honestly say, she had never been so close to being caught by the cops as she had been in that motel room.
Because of JJ.
He was a textbook liability, with a group of misfits who all shared the same trait. To different degrees, sure, but still. The Pogues travelled together in a little herd, like pack animals in the jungle, but half as stealthy and half as smart. She would have thought they'd have been better at sneaking around, all they were known for was getting into trouble, but apparently experience meant nothing.
Perhaps she was naive to think they would've been better at it. JJ spent most weekends in a holding cell, after all.
Ugh, her nose scrunched as she started her walk back home, Maybank. She couldn't understand how anyone liked him, and some people did. Her father included.
God knows why, honestly.
Sonny decided she didn't. At all. Because there was a close call with this stuff, and then there was that — breaking into a motel room, waving a gun around, climbing out the window to hide from cops and nearly getting them caught anyway. It was a mess, and Sonny sincerely hoped she never had to hide from cops with him again.
Funnily enough, her life ambitions didn't consist of rotting her days away in a jail cell and definitely not with JJ and John B as cellmates. Tweedledum and tweedle-fucking-dumber of all people.
She wasn't sure how the Pogue brigade had found the keys, or what made them want to show up to the motel, but if they wanted to risk getting caught, then so be it. They were free to do whatever they wished to. Because Sonny officially counted herself out. She had got down from that building and ditched, way before any of them could try and stop her. She said salud! and formally dipped.
Adios, Pogue—landia!
Nice knowing ya, and all that jazz.
"Hi Sonny."
Sonny paused as she tried to shut the door quietly, closing her eyes tightly. She sighed.
"Hi Jenny," she greeted their maid stiffly.
"You were out a long while," Jenny said with a smile from where she stood, counting delivery boxes in the hall. She did that when Ed was busy.
"Yeah, well..." Sonny tried to slide past her.
"Your knee," Jenny frowned, stopping her. Sonny looked down and realised a new bruise was blossoming there, a few thin scrapes to go with it. Stupid window. "Do you need—"
"I'm fine," the teen cut off, giving her a tight smile. Jenny was nice. Sonny liked her. But she didn't like when she pried into her business, even if that wasn't her intention. She only tried to be nice. "Don't sweat it."
"But—"
"Bye, Jenny."
She made a beeline for the stairs.
"Hi, sweetie. Catch anything good?"
Seriously? Sonny watched her mother walk down the steps, smiling brightly. Couldn't she catch a break?
Sure, talking to her mom was hardly insufferable, but Sonny just wanted to wash the Pogue off her with a warm shower. It was slowly starting to itch.
Sonny noticed her mom frown when she took a better look at her daughter. Maybe because she had no fish after going to the marsh for so long, or because she spotted Sonny's bruised knee and the dust on her clothes.
"Where's the fish?" She asked, "No catches?"
"Nothing," Sonny lied.
"Strange," Natasha hummed, "It's always good after storms. But there's still tomorrow, right?"
Sonny smiled tightly and nodded. She shuffled awkwardly, trying to skirt around her mother, and slowly started to creep up the stairs backwards. It wasn't the best time to talk about her day, seeing as she'd ended up on the side of a busted motel with a pair of annoying misfits from the south side instead of fishing, but she couldn't exactly tell her mother to go away. It didn't work like that.
"I'm gonna head up and read a book," Sonny took the safe route, "Maybe do a face mask," she looked up at the clock on the wall, five-thirty.
"Fun," her mom smiled at her.
Sonny tried not to roll her eyes, just nodding.
"Oh!" Natasha clicked her fingers, stopping her before she had the chance to bolt.
Sonny arched a brow at her.
"I should probably tell you, Topper's waiting in your room. He thinks you've been off helping clear up the south side with your father," her mom revealed.
Fucking Topper.
She didn't have time to deal with Topper, right now.
Noticing her irritated expression, Natasha grimaced. "You know I'm a bad liar," she told her with a pout. It was true. It was only Sonny and her dad who could lie in that house. "It was the best I could come up with."
"No," Sonny exhaled heavily through her nose, "He's an idiot. I can work with that."
"Sonny," her mom tsk'd.
Sonny shrugged.
Topper Thornton was an idiot.
He just happened to also be her only friend in the Outer Banks. Those two things could co-exist, alongside the fact he annoyed her senseless. Most of the time, she felt the sudden urge to strangle him with her bare hands. Topper used to be alright, before he had gotten close with Rafe and Kelce, and when he had no one to please or impress, but then they grew up, his mother's expectations sucked the life out of him, and all he wanted to do was impress her like Rafe did.
When he started badmouthing people and flexing money, she decided she didn't care for him as much. He was sucked into their little group of snobby assholes, and it made him a shittier person than ever. And the title had already been low hanging fruit for him.
Sonny didn't like the new Topper.
Although, she supposed she never cared enough for the old one either. If Sonny was a people person, maybe it would've been different. Maybe she would've appreciated that Topper more. Maybe he would've stuck around.
Occasionally he would shine through, when it was just him and Sonny, but it was rare. Sonny isolated herself to the point Topper hardly saw her.
And, whenever he did, he was even closer to the edge of no return. The Kook King. Pureblood.
Natasha noticed her thoughts, "Sorry, sweetie."
"Thanks anyway." Sonny huffed.
The woman pressed a kiss to her forehead and let her walk up the stairs, smiling when she dragged her feet like a child.
She'd grown up too fast.
It was sad in a way. She dragged her way up the stairs now, when once — even if Sonny would just deny it — she used to bound up them, racing to get to Topper, like he would vanish if she didn't get there quick enough; now she acted like death was a nicer outcome than seeing him. Maybe one day, they'd figure their friendship out.
Maybe Sonny would stop being so blind. Realise it hurt the boy when she forced him out of her life. Or maybe she would stay that way forever. But Topper was nothing if not persistent; and, right now, he wanted back in. So, every time she pushed him away, he found some way back to her.
Sonny wished he wouldn't bother.
————
Walking up the stairs felt like it took a lifetime.
Not just because there were a lot of them, with her room right towards the top, but because Sonny knew Topper was there at the top of them.
Sonny was tired. One of Topper's biggest talents was that ability to pry when you told him not to; so now, Sonny had to find the energy to lie about clearing up the Cut with her dad after Agatha. Her lies were pretty decent, luckily, because he would flip his shit if he found out where she really was — or who it was she was with, rather.
He hated Pogues.
"Woah, you look like shit."
Sonny squinted, "Thanks."
Topper smirked, chuckling to himself as she shut the door and stepped further into the room.
She frowned at the sight of him reclined on her bed, bag of popcorn under his arm and a shitty show playing on her TV, one he had been going on about for weeks.
It was like he owned the place or something.
Sonny suddenly regretted ever telling him he could make himself comfortable in her home— nine year old her didn't know shit, back then, and should've been a lot wiser. Then, maybe she could've gone straight to bed and forgot the day she'd had. Would've been nice.
"You just gonna stand there?"
Rolling her eyes, Sonny threw her sunglasses onto the desk in the corner of her room. "S'better than sitting next to you."
"Ouch," he clutched his chest, "Not nice."
"And your face is?"
Topper let out a low whistle, "Someone's extra mean today, aren't they?"
She shot him a nasty look.
"Seriously, what's up with you?" He asked, brows knotted above the bridge of his nose. "That shitty on the Cut?"
Sonny pursed her lips, watching him shuffle over and offer her the space under his arm. She resisted for a moment, true to her word about not wanting to be near him, but ultimately gave in. Her resolve crumbled and she walked over, finding a spot close to his chest.
As much as Topper bugged her, Sonny supposed a small part of her still cared. It was a care that resided deep down, somewhere inside of her, but it was there. Alongside all the other things little Sonny cared about.
Because this was Topper. Her only friend, maybe even her best friend, once long ago. The one person who actually kind of knew her. Like, really knew her.
They weren't an inseparable duo anymore, nor as close as they had once been, and maybe he didn't know her so much these days, but Topper still knew more about Sonny than all the other people in her life. All the people shut out. Unable to get past her walls. Topper was the only one to make it in; the only one being pushed back out. And every time Sonny tried to get rid of him, to isolate herself once and for all, he would have it his way and worm back in.
It was weird.
"You don't even know," Sonny finally answered. She then kicked off her shoes and shovelled a handful of popcorn into her mouth, not caring when some fell out. He glanced at her from his periphery, smiling.
"Should've come fishing with us," he shrugged.
"Yeah..." Sonny huffed, surprising him. She never agreed with him. "Probably should've."
He wanted to poke fun at her, but Topper chose not to say anything. She looked in a worse mood than usual, which was always pretty bad, and he wondered if the Cut really was the worst part of her day. He supposed it was a massive shit hole, hurricane or not, but he doubted that bruise on her knee was a result of picking up debris and trash. Again, Topper didn't say anything. He just rested his head on hers.
"You should shower," he said instead.
Her body stiffened.
"There's a—"
"No."
"You don't know what I was gonna say—!"
Sonny didn't need to know. She could feel it. That was why she shook her head, "I'm not going."
"It's just a dumb kegger!"
Just a dumb kegger. She'd heard that one before. Maybe even millions of times. To Topper, a dumb kegger roughly translated to a chance to start a pointless fight with some Pogues.
Beach parties never ended up well, especially when beers were involved. Sonny could count the number that had gone well on just the one hand.
Sonny only really went to the ones she had for a chance to get high with the sound of the ocean in her ears. It felt super poetic and shit at one in the morning. Though, it usually got ruined by fists flying and some broken noses. She would have nicer times getting high in an alley.
She glared at him, "I'm not going."
"Come on, Sonny!"
"No."
He sighed, "Dude, you really gotta loosen up. Have fun."
Sonny scowled. She didn't need to loosen up. Or maybe she did, and she just didn't want it to be at some boneyard party where she would bump into the four assholes she knew would be the cause for it. A kegger was a staple Pogue party, one to draw in the tourons. But after the run in Sonny had with the group earlier that day, she didn't want to face them. Could you blame her? Twice in one day was already too much for Sonny, and that was before taking into account the questions they'd ask — how she had got all involved in the motel room fiasco, why she ran off, blah, blah, blah.
Sonny didn't want to answer questions — she wanted to get as far away from that situation as she could. Why else would Sonny have completely disappeared?
"I'm the loosest person you know," Sonny shot back, stormy eyes narrowed as she turned up her nose at it. "Keggers aren't even fun. 'Specially not when you and Rafe show up and start a stupid fight—"
"I'm not gonna start a fight," Topper rolled his eyes.
She sent him a disbelieving look.
"Really! I'm not!" He tried, "We heard there was a kegger, Sarah said she wanted to check it out..."
"So this is about Sarah?"
"No—"
"Not about me needing to loosen up?" Figures.
His face grew red.
As much of an ass as Topper could be, he was a total softy when it came to Sarah Cameron. He was obsessed with her. Head over heels and all that shit. Sonny had never seen him act that way with anyone — not how he acted with Sarah. A part of Sonny wished he wasn't so into the Kook princess of all people, but the rest of her insisted she didn't care.
She had never really gotten along with Sarah. Then again, she hadn't really given the girl a chance.
She was related to Rafe.
That's all she needed to know.
"Can't you just go with her and Rafe?" She didn't see why she had to tag along. "Kelce likes to party. Take him. Or them. Take my dad for all I care, anyone but me."
"Rafe is grounded and Kelce is busy," Topper revealed, "I want you there, you know, it's just not the same without you."
That was a lie.
They both knew it. Sonny didn't do anything at keggers. It was just more time for her to smoke and sit by herself. Topper always made sure to invite her, sometimes dragging her there against her will, but that was because he wanted her to go, not because it wouldn't be the same if she didn't. It would be the exact same. If anything, it would be better without her there.
But, when she did go, it gave Topper someone to stop him taking a fight too far. Rafe and Kelce would egg him on, but Sonny would get bored and tell him to quit it. She was only there to stop him killing somebody.
"It'll be fun," he tried.
"No it won't."
He pouted.
"It will! C'mon, Sonny. Why not?"
After a few moments trying to push his pouting face away, Sonny heaved a sigh. "Whatever."
Topper cheered when she pulled herself up and she swiftly sent him the finger, which hardly affected him. There was no point in refusing — he wasn't going to shut up. On the bright side, maybe she could just get high enough that she wouldn't even see the Pogues.
As she gathered her stuff for a shower, because god knows she needed one with the dirt from the motel carpet making her itch, Topper continued to eat his popcorn as he checked his phone. He paused, chewing slowly, and then tapped at his screen after reading something.
"Hey— hear about that body in the marsh?"
Sonny tensed, "What?"
"They found a body in the marsh," he shrugged, "Scooter Grubs— ya know? The fisherman? They think he drowned in the storm," Topper said almost casually.
Scooter Grubs was dead? Her stomach churned.
"Seriously?" She asked him, swallowing harshly. Sonny's lips pursed, "Who said that?"
"Everyone's talking about it. Kelce's mom said he was all blue and shit," Topper read his screen again, barely noticing her discomfort. "They found him this afternoon, he probably went out in the surge or something. Cops said about a search party for his boat."
"His boat?"
"Yeah," his brow creased, "Vanished, apparently."
"What boat?" The question burst out of Sonny before she could stop it. Her gut already told her that she already knew, but she still hoped she was wrong. What were the bets it was all just a sick coincidence?
Topper was confused, "Huh?"
"What boat was it?" She repeated, tapping the side of her leg in nervous fidget. "What boat are they looking for?"
"Does it matter...?" Brows raised, Topper narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. She was acting weird. He hadn't expected her to care so much. It wasn't like she knew Scooter Grubs all that well. "C'mon! He's just some broke—"
"Topper!" Sonny snapped, "What boat did he own?"
A moment passed. He shrugged, "Grady-White, they said. Ain't that weird? People from the Cut owning Grady-Whites?"
For a second, Sonny felt faint.
It was like the world disappeared from around her, and all she could see was the boat, the gun and the Pogues.
Suddenly, all she could see was JJ Maybank.
As soon as it had come, the feeling passed. Sonny blinked, and came back to.
"Yeah..." she cleated her throat
"Weird."
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