━ 𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲.
"𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐓 me out of this van in the next three seconds, I will not hesitate to jump out the window," I seethed.
The front of my feet were tapping the ground in repetition, an impatience habit, and my leg bobbed up and down on the seat. I was biting the inside of my cheek, holding as much anger inside as I could. The sun was hot, shined down hard through the glass of the windows, warming up the smelly van with a heat and causing my palms to sweat. My clothes were filled with dirt.
"We're almost there, and then I'm driving you home," John B said with a calm tone of voice, quickly glancing to me, and removing one hand from the wheel. "I promise."
I didn't know what his value of a promise meant.
"I don't see why I have to come," I shrugged, my voice sounding salty. "I'm not apart of your group anyways, your Pogue thing, or whatever."
"You're a fast thinker, thats why," John B answered assuredly, "We need you on this last thing."
"No we don't." Pope said, with a tone of casualty from behind my seat. "You do."
"I agree with him," I referred to Pope's comment, looking straight to John B.
"She's not a Pogue dude," Pope continued, "She's just not like us."
"He's not wrong." I nodded, figuring if Pope continued to make arguments, John B would let me out of the van eventually.
"She kinda is, though," Jj interjected, as he flicked open a lighter and closed it repeatedly, the click click sound reaching my ears.
"No, I am not," I turned around in the seat and pinned my eyes on Jj. I looked at him with cold eyes, the rooster image flashing in my mind. "I didn't agree to this— to any of this."
"Do you know how to surf?" Jj ignored my glare, and smiled randomly in my direction.
"She's from New York City, dipshit," Kiara mumbled to him, while picking at the shoelaces on her yellow Vans.
"We could work on that," Jj shrugged comfortably, popping out his bottom lip. "Totally workable."
"I can't believe I'm here right now," my eyes were slightly wide with disbelief as I turned back around in my seat, sighing defeatedly. John B barely payed attention, and simply drove through deserted streets.
"This is abduction, JB," Pope commented. "And it's like, what, the third time you've done it? You have a problem."
John B glared at him through the mirror.
"I think," Jj ignored the comment and announced to everyone, a new idea to mind, "That we should give you a nickname." He said, pointing his lighter to me.
"Why?" Pope responded questionably, not seeing the point.
"Yeah, why." I repeated.
"I mean, Kiara's got Kie, and John's got JB," Jj explained, then glancing to Pope, "you and me don't really have anything, but, like, she could. Charlotte's a bit formal, no?"
"I thought you said it was a hot name?" Pope retorted in a high pitched tone, mocking Jj for what he'd said a few days before.
"Well, yeah," he shrugged in response, "But now I'm thinking like somethin' easier."
"You're just too lazy to pronounce 'Charlotte'." Kiara rolled her eyes.
It felt weird to hear them talking about me when I was sitting right there. I'd never had people talk about me, or say my name so many times in the same conversation.
"What about Leslie," John B suggested, glancing over to me, "That's her middle name."
I felt a small heat rise to my cheeks that he remembered, but quickly pushed it away and kept the small frown on my lips.
"Oh, don't you just know your facts," Pope said sarcastically, half-jokingly and half not.
"Nah, that's my Nan's name," Jj grimaced. "What were you calling her, JB? Like, Cola or sum'?"
"Cherry Cola," Pope corrected him, laughing lightly, seeming like he was warming up to the conversation.
"Yeah, that's not going to be my nickname, please," I butted in, staring forward and leaning my head back against the head restraint.
John B glanced over at me, laughing.
"Okay then— Cherry?" Jj thought to himself, "Or, like, Charry... or Berry..."
"How about Charlie?" Kiara said calmly, sounding like she enjoyed the idea. "That's easy."
"Or that," Jj huffed, giving up.
"I like that," John B mused, his voice casual, "Charlie."
"No one's ever called me that before," I found myself to be laughing lightly, which was surprising.
My parents were never around to give me a nickname. Never around in the first place to talk to me at casual, they'd simply call me by Charlotte, and never a "honey" or "sweetheart" or anything parents are supposed to call their children. When Jj and the rest were discussing what to call me, it made me think about my grandparents and how they'd been calling me "bug", which I (secretly) loved.
I wasn't going to lie and say that I disliked the situation with the teenagers, because it felt nice to simply be talked about. As someone who spent all time alone, no friends, and busy parents who didn't even have time to eat dinner with their daughter, I felt somewhat flattered to be the subject of conversation for once. And, I didn't mind the nickname either, it was refreshing.
I hated to admit that the group wasn't all that bad. They were nice— most of them— and had no problem with me, except for Pope. I was still mad nonetheless, and I was sill going to stay mad the whole day, mostly at John B for dragging me into another galavant, and Jj for scarring my mind with the poor rooster. As much as I felt flattered and included, I was equally enraged and still upset. It was a weird feeling.
"Okay so," John B announced over the voices speaking in the back, looking in the rear view mirror. "Someone tell Charlie about The Royal Merchant."
Immediately, I thought about the flyer I'd read on the Ferry.
"The Royal Merchant was a ship that sunk in the great storm of 1829," Pope explained, his voice sounding like he just automatically knew what to say, "With four-hundred million of British government gold onboard. Basically the dream of generations of islanders. JB's dad has been trying to find it for years, but still, nobody has." He spoke factually, and with a certain confidence.
My eyes instantly widened at the amount of gold mentioned. "Four hundred million!" I abruptly turned around in my seat, jaw almost dropped to the floor.
Everyone nodded slowly.
"And your dad has been looking for it?" I stared at John B in disbelief, my eyebrows narrowed. That was what Caroline had meant by research stuff, and the shipwreck. My stomach tightened when I thought of John B's father getting lost at sea, trying to find the sunken boat. I bit my tongue.
"Yeah," he breathed out. "And the other day, after the hurricane, we went out in the marsh and found his compass in Scooter Grubbs' boat." He glanced back at Pope who held the compass up in front of him. "That guy who drowned. That's why we were at Ms. Lana's."
Pope stared at the compass which dangled in front of him, his eyes squinting.
"I mean, it's obvious, guys," John B spoke to his friends, "A family heirloom. What better place to hide a message? He had to know it was going to get back to me, right?"
"Yeah, it's possible," Kiara said, with a small hint of doubt to her tone.
"It could also be possible that you're concocting wild theories, to, you know," Pope remained calm, speaking normally, "deal with your sad feels."
John B looked out the window beside him, disapproving with a low scoff.
"Bro, you know how I process my sad feels," Jj added. "Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies, that's how I do it."
Kiara rolled her eyes.
"I'm not concocting okay?" John B claimed, angry. "My dad is trying to give me a message."
"If it helps you believe, John B," Kiara said sympathetically from the back, making eye contact with him through the mirror.
"Look, I— I don't need a therapy session okay?" He groaned, "I'm not tripping out!"
I stayed silent, watching John B's face as he spoke. My fingers intertwined with one another nervously, realizing how impacted he was about his dad.
"It's okay to trip bro—" Jj started.
"My dad is missing, okay? Missing." He said seriously, looking back to his friends. "You don't know what it's like to have the person closest to you vanish, and then have no idea what happened. Just wake up every morning wondering." He spoke lowly, and turned back to face the road.
I didn't say anything, as his friends began to conjure up stupid theories about his father to lighten the mood. Meanwhile, I folded my lips tightly together and kept quiet, not looking at John B, afraid that he'd look to me, so I stared out the window.
"What do you think the message is," Kiara asked him after a while, "And where are we going?"
"It says Redfield," my eyes slightly widened when they spotted a large worn-out sign with the word on it, at a close distance, "That's the lighthouse I passed on my way here," I looked at John B.
He stared forward, "My dad's favourite place."
___
"I know more— watch your step here— about The Royal Merchant than anyone else in Kildare County." A large man with an orange tousled beard, lead John B and I through the lighthouse and out a door.
I had never been inside of a lighthouse. Nor did I ever really want to. But when John B has asked me to accompany him, letting Kiara, Jj, and Pope stay by the van for lookout, I didn't want to upset him any further. So I followed him and told myself to go along with it, because hopefully, from the top, I'd get a breathtaking view of the water and landscape I've never seen in person. Though, immediately when we stepped into the dark place, an off feeling settled in my stomach.
The air inside the lighthouse tasted of salt on my tongue, and smelled vividly like the ocean, if I'd ever experienced that particular scent. The rows of stairs seemed to go on for miles upwards, and our steps echoed on the metal stairs, my feet after his, and my hand gripping on the railing after his in a sequence, until we'd made it to the very top.
A chubby, sweating, exasperated and middle aged man had answered the door and denied John B's first request to see the lighthouse, but came back out when he mentioned the Royal Merchant. The man, with the tiniest of glasses perched on top of his hooked nose, had smiled eerily at us, before letting us in.
Now he pushed open a heavy metal door, revealing the landscape ahead, and how high we were up.
I choked on my breath at the fact that I couldn't see the ground below me. What I could see, and what made my stomach drop, was the ginormous scattered and rusty holes all along the path of the lighthouse, which wrapped around it's whole circumference.
"Holy shit," I mumbled, so quietly, that even I could barely hear it. The height didn't matter all that much to me, because I was used to living in the highest building on my street in New York, but it was the holes bigger than my feet that were causing my heart rate to pick up tremendously.
I wasn't listening to what John B and the man were talking about, because I was too busy pressing myself hard against the lighthouse exterior wall, ever-so-carefully avoiding the holes in the metal as we shuffled around. They were talking about the Merchant, speaking words I didn't understand, while I stared at the water and the small waves crashing in.
"Well, follow me," the man said, lowering his eyes at the two of us. He smiled that same scary smiled, his forehead purple and covered with sweat, "I wanna show you something," he snickered evilly, and turned away.
John B looked back at me with a somewhat fearful expression, and I stared back with the same look. The railings were broken and had holes in them along with the floor, I had nothing to grab onto to. When John B's hand reached out to the side, I surprised myself with how quickly I grabbed it with mine. He didn't let go until we were around the bend.
I tried to listen to the as best I could, retaining the most information possible, but I was distracted by the water and the soft breeze. It was magnificent, and I wished it could have lasted for longer, before the man kept walking. Eventually, after pointing out where the Royal Merchant was, according to his own calculations, the man dragged both of us back into the lighthouse.
He quickly lead us over to a map pinned to a wall, taking off his glasses and circling a point along the shoreline. The bad feeling in my stomach worsened as I looked at the man's forever-deepening purple face, and when John B made a comment about his father.
"Look— I-I know this is weird, alright," John B reached into his pocket, "But do you know anything about this?" He showed the famous compass.
I was standing close behind him as the man's eyes widened with a certain fear.
"It — it says Redfield in the back, in my dad's handwriting, and I don't know why I'm here, but I feel like I'm supposed to be here," John B told the man.
The man was no longer listening, as he turned around and quickly crawled out an exit overhead. John B called after him and followed the guy up to the very tip of the lighthouse, me hesitantly going after him.
"John B, we should go," I said quietly, as he climbed up to the next level.
"I know this is weird— but I just thought, I hoped, that you would know something about this, alright?" John B continued, ignoring me, and chasing after the man.
I stepped up into the small bubble-like area, keeping a safe distance as John B approached him.
"Look, man, my dad wanted me to talk to you, okay? So if theres anything you could think of, please just tell us, okay?" John B shouted with impatience and nervousness. He gripped the man's shoulders.
The man was then speaking someone on his radio, his eyes pinned to John B, telling the cops to come quick. Then, before I knew it, John B was fighting with the man, shoving his hand with the radio into the glass, causing it to crack.
"John B!" I yelled out, outraged, "We have to leave!" I gripped a hand around his forearm, tight.
The man screamed, and gripped his hands which was now covered in blood.
"I'm sorry, it was an accident!" John B was saying as he followed me down through the exit.
Faster than ever, I ran to the door, charging for the stairs. We were running down the metal staircase, our shoes echoing off the walls, skipping steps, until we made it to the very bottom, both panting. I heard a siren, and my heart stopped, as we exited the lighthouse, instantly seeing the brown van driving away.
"Oh my god," I breathed out in disbelief, at John B's friends driving away. "They left,"
"Shit," John B cursed, his palms forming into fists, "This way, this way!" He called to me behind him, and began running towards the back of the lighthouse with a strong start.
I followed, sprinting fast, watching him hop over a short fence. The sirens became louder, and I hopped over the fence after him, nearly landing right on my face.
After running and running, in unknown directions, the sirens were no longer heard and we were slowly walking together, the lighthouse visible over the trees in the distance behind us.
I wanted to yell at him, angry that I was right about his bad luck, and how the cops were called yet again, but I stopped myself.
I caught my breath, "My grandma told me about your dad," I said after a while of silence. "And how he got lost at sea trying to find this... Royal Merchant,"
"So you believe it, right?" He stopped walking and turned to me.
"I don't know," I shrugged, trying to say it lightly, "That man back there looked like he was on drugs, John B,"
"No, but that was promising," he pointed back to the lighthouse over the trees.
"How was that promising?" I questioned, not comprehending.
"It's just—" he turned away, and walked again, "For the last nine months of my life I haven't heard anything about my father, and now this, this is finally something."
"Look— if this is some wild goose chase," I squinted my eyes, following him down a path. "Not that I even know what that is— this would be a really good one, okay,"
"Maybe we missed something at the lighthouse," he stopped. "We should go back."
The wind was blowing past us, ruffling my hair into loose wisps causing me to push the strands behind my ears. I looked down sadly. "Look, I don't really know you — or the full story about your dad— or what it's like to lose someone important," I lifted my eyes up to him, seeing him staring at me. "But I think your friends are right, John B, there might be some moderate concocting going on—"
"Charlie, come on," John B scoffed and looked away, rubbing his hands over his head.
"I can see that you miss your dad, I know," I said, trying my best to be sympathetic, "I just don't understand everything that's going on lately. What does the compass even mean?"
"He knew it would get back to me," John B defended, sounding sure.
"I don't even know you, but I can see it, John B," we made eye contact, before he looked to the ground. "And I know you don't care what I say, because I'm not one of your friends. But you're not even listening to them,"
He stared at his feet, and I felt my stomach drop. It was silent for a few long moments.
"Do you..." I spoke slowly, my tone sort of awkward, "I don't know, do you need a hug?" I breathed out, quietly.
"What?" He looked back up to me, his facial expression drooping.
"You just— sort of look like you need a hug right now," I shrugged my shoulders, hoping that he wasn't going to think of me weirdly.
But, he stepped towards me and wrapped his arms around my body without a word. My hands immediately made their way to his neck, and he leaned down to rest his chest on my shoulder. With his hands tightly wrapped around my waist, my face in the crook of his neck and our bodies pressed lightly together, I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten a hug from someone. I felt a feeling stir inside my stomach, when I inhaled his scent.
"You don't need to explain anything to me." I whispered onto his shoulder.
We stood there, in the wind, until he let go. I smiled up softly at him, my face relaxing as he looked down to me.
His mouth opened, beginning to say something, but he was cut off by a sudden, and quick siren. Instantly, his face turned to panic as we saw a cop car pull up to where we were.
Before I could do anything else, hidden behind his tall body, he turned back to me. Swiftly, he slid the compass into my hand, grabbed my shoulders and whispered, "run".
So, thats what I did.
He pushed me away, and I ran as fast as I could.
༄
𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 !!