chapter twenty-three
izzy and her ghosts
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Her bubble of Chanel sunglasses and Louis Vuitton bags was no more. Izzy Windsor realized that as the van carried down onto the main road and they headed closer to the airstrip. It was an odd feeling, realizing the life you had lived for so many years had just suddenly changed in the blink of an eye. She remembered a time where she had tried to make herself okay with how her life was going, but she had long since abandoned that mindset and replaced it with a new one. Now, she only wanted hope.
Hope for a better future and freedom from life were the things Izzy yearned for. And she was realizing just how attainable those things actually were. It didn't feel like a surreal fantasy anymore. Now, she looked forward to the future, welcoming it with open arms. It didn't pain her to smile anymore, because she knew, no matter what happened, the life in front of her was hers to pave and no one else's. And that was all she had ever wanted—to create a future she wanted.
But as the van headed onto a road hidden by trees, she feared she was making the wrong decision. Truthfully, she was scared because she wasn't sure if her father had meant what he had said. There was no way of telling. And a part of her cared. It was the part of her that remembered the version of her father who would make her laugh until her stomach hurt. Because truth be told, no one was entirely evil. People were composed equally of bad and good. And maybe that was why she felt a sense of melancholy wash over her as the van distanced further and further from her estate.
She wondered if she really had it in her to put to rest the life she used to live. She wondered if she had enough willpower to abandon the money she had used to happy herself happy. Sure, it never really did the trick, but hell, she could still worry about it if she wanted to. But, the thing was . . . it wasn't really about the money. She was more so concerned about letting her father go. He was her father, after all. She had lost too much already, and sure, she never really had him in the first place, but it still hurt to imagine a life without a father. It felt like he was dead. But he wasn't dead. Not that any of that really mattered, considering he still haunted her, looming over her shoulder like a ghost she couldn't lay to rest. She supposed he'd always be there in the back of her mind, but he wouldn't rule her life. This life was hers, not his, and she wouldn't let him win.
So, Izzy being . . . well . . . Izzy did her best to shove away the ghosts from her past. She tried ignoring her father's voice, and instead focused on the warm bodies surrounding her in the van. They—the Pogues . . . her friends—were still very much alive, and they made her feel less like a corpse and more like a person. And all she really cared about was getting the damn gold back from Ward so they could all book the next flight out of that cursed island and forget Outer Banks, North Carolina ever existed.
She averted her gaze to JJ, who was sitting on the floor of the van while plucking ammo out of its case so he could load his gun. She furrowed her brows at him and outstretched her foot toward him, tapping his knee with the toe of her boot. "What's the plan, hotshot?" the Windsor girl asked.
JJ's gaze snapped to meet her stare. "We go in there, guns a-blazin', make Ward Cameron beg for mercy, abscond as much gold as possible and vámanos, get the hell out of there," he explained while glancing at his friends for approval.
John B nodded. "Down the Intracoastal," he said as he tightened his grip around the steering wheel.
"Wait for weather," Kiara added before a wide grin slid across her face.
Pope leaned his arm on the cushion of his seat. "Exit to Cuba."
"Cuba?" JJ questioned, furrowing his brows as he spoke. "No, man, Xcalak, Jewel of Yucatan. Lobsters so thick, mangoes, and no word for money." A grin consumed his face a second later as he shifted his gaze to meet Izzy's eyes. "Or better yet. We'll go to Lacanau." He sent her a wink, to which she rolled her eyes. "I hear the beaches are sick for surfing."
"And Paris is close to it," Izzy informed with a small smile toying at her lips. She raised a brow at her boyfriend as she crossed her right leg over her left and relaxed into the backseat.
JJ nodded. "Yeah, Izzy can give us a tour of Paree," he said as he glanced at the others, but they only sent him blank, unamused looks. He shrugged at their reactions and turned back to the gun in his hand. Then he shoved the bullets into the chamber before he loaded the gun and clicked it into place.
Izzy crossed her arms over her chest and then cleared her throat to gain his attention. When his gaze met hers, she squinted her eyes into slits. "You do realize just because I've been, like, multiple times doesn't mean I'm, like, a fuckin' tour guide . . . right?" she questioned, pursing her glossed lips (she had reapplied her lip gloss as soon as she hopped into the van).
JJ only shrugged, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made Izzy question what his next words would be. "Yeah, but, I mean . . . you sure know your way around a baguette," the Maybank boy countered as an open-mouth smirk claimed his face. "If you . . . catch my drift." He winked at her (again), and Izzy nearly popped a blood vessel as she rolled her eyes at him.
"Gross," Kiara muttered under her breath as her lip turned up in disgust. She glanced at Pope, and they shared a look filled with discomfort before she turned around to face the front.
Izzy mirrored her friends' disgust as she pursed her lips and sent her boyfriend an unamused glare. "I'm literally going to shove you out of this van," she spat in a monotone voice, which caused a laugh to bubble from JJ's lips (of course).
From the driver's seat, John B shook his head. "You two dating or whatever this weird arrangement is . . . is getting on my nerves," he commented as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "I still can't believe JJ bagged you. He's been whining about you for like four years. I can't imagine how annoying he's gonna' be now."
"You make me sound like a pussy-whipped bitch," JJ scoffed.
Pope furrowed his brows. "You are."
JJ blinked at him. "Dude."
"Look," John B began as he shrugged, "I'm just saying if he starts writing in a diary or doing one of those online love calculators, I'm blaming you, Iz."
Izzy glared at him through the rear-view mirror. "Okay, first of all, you've known for like two minutes," she said. "Second of all, if he did, I'd leave him on read."
"Yeah," Kiara agreed as she shot the Routledge boy a look. "Plus, how do you think we felt when you were going all Romeo and Juliet with your relationship with Sarah?"
Her words made the group halt in their actions. Pope's eyes widened into saucers as he shook his head and slashed his hand in front of his throat as a way to tell her to cut it out. Kiara only shrugged at his response and turned back to face the front, staring through the window at the trees zipping past them. And while they shot each other glares through the rear-view mirror, Izzy and JJ glanced from John B (who seemed to be stuck inside his own head now), then averted their eyes to each other. JJ blinked and sent her a look as if he were asking her where to go from there. Izzy only shrugged as her lip turned up in annoyance.
The silence seemed to be their only answer as it fell upon the group and overpowered any other noise. JJ cleared his throat and averted his gaze back to the gun in his hand. He trailed a finger across the barrel, then glanced up at Pope and grinned. "Hey, Pope Francis, you wanna' hold it?" he asked the Heyward boy as he sent him a head nod.
Pope only narrowed his eyes at him. "No, JJ, I don't," he said as he shook his head.
JJ's brows raised high on his forehead. "You sure, man?" he asked as outstretched the handle of the gun toward the boy, beckoning for him to grab it from him. "It's not even that hard to handle. You just—"
But Izzy cut him off before he could say another word or demonstrate holding the gun. "JJ, I swear to fucking God if you wave that gun around, I will scream so loud people will think I'm being kidnapped and come after us," she spat out through gritted her teeth. She didn't want anyone to get shot because her boyfriend rarely thought and based his decisions on impulsivity. "And if that happens, then you can kiss your gold and your gun goodbye."
JJ blinked, but nevertheless, lowered the gun and secured it in the waistband of his cargo shorts. He stared at the Windsor girl for a second after that before he opened his mouth and spoke. "You know . . . Freud calls this negative punishment," he remarked. "You take away something sacred—" he patted the part of the gun that was sticking out of his waistband— "and it fucks people up. Makes them go out of their minds, and eventually, you have to be hospitalized because of how fucked it is." He tilted his head and nodded once as he shrugged. "It's basic psychology, man."
Izzy raised a brow. "I don't think that's right."
"It's not," Pope confirmed with a small sigh. "And Skinner was the one to suggest negative punishment. Also, it doesn't make you go insane."
Kiara turned around in the passenger's seat and looked at JJ. "Do you even know who Freud is?" she asked as she gave him a once-over.
"Yeah," JJ scoffed, "the dude who wanted to bang his mama."
Izzy put her hand up. "Hold on," she began. "Did you even take psychology?"
John B laughed. "Who? JJ?"
"No, he didn't," Pope informed before anyone else could intervene. "He took sociology with me and slept through most of it."
JJ nodded as a small, half-grin twitched at his lips. "One of the best classes I've ever taken," he hummed. "So peaceful, man, and Mrs. Stevens's voice was like a fuckin' godsent or some shit. Plus, she had these—" he cupped his hands over his chest— "big—" But then he caught sight of Izzy's unamused glare, and he quickly cut himself off before he could finish his sentence.
Izzy raised her brows, expectantly. "Big what?"
JJ slowly lowered his hands, letting them rest on his thighs as he thought over his next words. He then brought a clenched fist to his lips and cleared his throat while he sheepishly stared at Izzy. "Have I ever told you that you're beautiful?" he asked her, slowly.
Izzy only playfully rolled her eyes. "Cute," was all she said as she leaned forward and flicked the bill of his red cap.
"So—" Kiara began as she ripped the cap from JJ's head before he could fix it— "this is what I'm hearing." She toyed with the red cap in her hands. "JJ google searches the Oedipus Complex in his free time." She waved the cap in his face, taunting him.
JJ ripped the cap out of her grasp and put it back on his head so the bill was facing the back. "Really, Kie, that's your takeaway?" he asked as he adjusted the cap. "I don't search it. I was bored, and so I picked up a random book and boom! There it was."
"You didn't read the title before you picked it up?" Izzy questioned with her brows furrowed. A small, smirk twitched at the corners of her lips as she watched JJ process her question.
Once her words cemented in his brain, JJ turned back to her, shaking his head, slightly. "It wasn't like I was in a library, okay?" he defended. "I was in detention, and the other books were—" he lined his hands up in a prayer gesture then spread them apart— "lengthy. What would you have done?"
"Not that," John B muttered under his breath before anyone else could reply, but he didn't seem all that there. It seemed he wasn't all that in tune with the conversation but rather too locked inside his head with his thoughts to formulate a better response.
"Was some of it at least interesting, J?" Pope asked the blond boy as he scratched the back of his neck.
"Doubt it," Izzy answered for him. "Freud was, like, a major sexist, you know?"
Kiara nodded in agreement. "And kind of stupid," she added. "And had extremely outdated views."
JJ tapped two fingers against the side of his head, then pointed at the girls. "Good thing he's dead then," he remarked with a soft laugh.
The van hit a bump in the road, causing Izzy to steady herself against the seat so she wouldn't fall. And for a second, she was reminded of her mother. She had gotten used to being in a moving vehicle that she wasn't steering, but even once in a while, when the van would go over a speedbump a little too fast, she'd be reminded of the car crash which ended her mother's life. She didn't know what she was really expecting. It wasn't like the bad memories, or her fears would disintegrate just because she was surrounded by people who made her feel safe.
No matter what she did, the ghost of her mother would always be looming over her shoulder. But maybe that didn't have to be a bad thing. Perhaps she could remember the good and relish in that while acknowledging the bad without letting it consume her whole. The point was that . . . she supposed a part of her would always wonder if the van would somehow suddenly combust, but she had to make her peace with that. She just had to keep reminding herself that nothing was going to happen.
So she did. She told herself she wasn't going to die. She focused on her heart beating in her chest as she ignored her friends' conversations and stared out the window, watching the trees zip past them. She watched as the trees quickly surrounded them as John B steered the van into a bare patch of land. She tore her eyes from the window and looked ahead of her, catching sight of the airstrip which was closed off by a chain-link fence.
The van abruptly came to a halt as John B turned off the engine and parked in the bare patch of land. He released a sigh and glanced over his shoulder to look at the group of teenagers. "Okay, we're here," he muttered, smiling slightly.
JJ nodded at the Routledge boy. "Big John would have been so proud of you, man," he said as he clamped a hand down on John B's shoulder. He dropped his hand a second later, then reached for the gun secured in the waistband of his cargo shorts. He took it out, gripping it in his hand as he pulled open the back door with his other hand. "Let's do this shit." He sent his friends one last look before he hopped out of the van.
The others followed in his lead. John B swung open his door and dashed out of the van, then took off toward the fence with Kiara following after him. Pope allowed Izzy to jump out first before he grabbed his binoculars, then followed in her lead, and the two of them met the others at the fence. Izzy stood beside JJ and gripped onto the fence as she took in the scene before her. She didn't know what she was expecting, but she honestly didn't anticipate seeing people (probably workers Ward hired) loading crate after crate onto the plane.
"What's the plan? Broad strokes," Kiara muttered as she gripped onto the fence, curling her fingers in the wire netting.
John B laced his fingers in the wire netting and released a sigh. "I don't think we got that far," he said, but he didn't bother to look at her to acknowledge her question; he just kept staring at the airstrip, watching as workers loaded up crates into the plane.
Pope brought his binoculars up and squinted through the lenses. "They're loading up the gold," he informed after a second.
As soon as his words left his lips, John B ripped the binoculars from him and looked through them to see for himself. "There's Ward," he muttered, clenching his jaw. He continued to stare in silence as he tightened his grip around the binoculars until his knuckles turned white—a clear sign that his anger was flooding his senses. Then a second later, he swallowed, hard, and slowly lowered the binoculars with a stunned expression written across his face.
Kiara stared at him, her face slowly falling as she watched him. "What?" she asked, carefully. When he didn't respond, she slapped his arm. "What?!"
A small sigh escaped John B's lips. "It's Sarah," he breathed, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.
Izzy swore her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. "What?!" she frantically asked as she turned to stare at the side of John B's face with her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. That must have been why Sarah hadn't answered her texts. "Is she okay?"
But John B didn't respond. His silence made Izzy's blood run cold—a foreign feeling from the burning heat she was used to.
"She's with him?" Pope piped up, but still, he received no answer.
The silence consumed the group once again as John B slowly raised the binoculars to his eyes so he could look through the lenses. The others took his silence as a sign, and ceased trying to harass him for answers, so they all turned back to the scene in front of them and squinted to see if they could make out anything that was happening. But Izzy wasn't as calm as the others. Her head was pounding, and her mind had begun to wander, digging up scenarios where the only person who had never left her side suddenly vanished and became another one of her ghosts.
She didn't know why Sarah was with Ward, and honestly, that didn't matter to her. She just wanted to get her away from him before anything bad happened. And, sure, she knew it was irrational, but as she squinted into the distance and tried to make out the blurry figures, her mind kept coming up with different horrifying scenarios. But it wasn't the scenarios which terrified her; it was her guilt.
Because the thing was: while she and Sarah had been friends for what felt like forever, and while they had had their fair share of fights, Izzy had never actually told Sarah just how much she appreciated her sticking around. For so long, she had believed Sarah had only stayed because she felt like she had to, but that wasn't the case. Izzy realized that now. And if something happened to Sarah before Izzy got to tell her just how much she needed the Cameron girl in her life, then the Windsor girl didn't know what she'd do. She was sure the guilt alone would be enough to kill her.
"Wait a minute," John B began; his voice snapped Izzy out of her trance, and she glanced at him with wide eyes. He wet his lips, then continued. "He's hurting her."
Izzy's heart swelled so much in her chest that it hurt. And all she could think was 'shit'.
Kiara mirrored Izzy's panicked reaction. "What?"
"What?" JJ questioned as well, turning to look at John B.
John B shook his head slightly in disbelief as he continued to stare through the lenses of the binoculars. "They're fighting," he bit out through gritted teeth.
Kiara ripped the binoculars from the Routledge boy's grasp and brought them up to her eyes so she could look through the lenses as well. "Holy shit," she breathed out, her voice dripping with shock.
That was all it took before John B pushed off the fence and took off toward the van. He swung the driver's door open and climbed into the van, slamming the door behind him. He frantically tried to start the engine while the rest of the teenagers still had their eyes locked on the scene before them. They stayed oblivious to the Routledge boy as they tried squinting into the distance, observing the situation they had found themselves in.
"Wait, so she—What?" JJ muttered out. He tried reaching for the binoculars that Kiara held, but the girl tore away from him. "What's—I had no—"
The abrupt sound of an engine starting cut him off before he could finish his sentence. The four teenagers by the fence slowly glanced over their shoulder, finding John B was frantically messing with the controls of the van. Izzy could hear the others frantically calling out to the Routledge boy, but she wasn't listening to what they were saying. She kept her eyes on the boy behind the wheel as she slowly stepped to the side while she furrowed her brows at him and wondered what he was planning on doing. And then it clicked, as she watched him crank the gear stick before he plastered both hands onto the steering wheel and slammed his foot down onto the accelerator.
The teenagers jumped out of the way of the van, but they didn't cease their protests. JJ, in particular, didn't back down as he ran after the van. "Don't be a hero, dude! John B!" he yelled as he raised his hands in the air in aspiration. "What are you doing?"
But John B appeared to be too far gone. He only sped up at the sound of his friends' protests, not even stopping as the van sped toward the fence. Then the van collided with the fence, splitting the wire netting open as John B swung the vehicle closer toward the airstrip. As he sped toward the runway, the remaining four teens shared a shocked look before they turned back to the scene in front of them and ran after their friend.
And JJ was the first to take off. "John B!" he yelled, his voice ripping through his vocal cords as he sprinted after the van with his arms stretched out at his sides. "What are you doing, man?" He came to a halt just a few feet from the broken fence, and set down his gun, then ripped off his red cap and threw it to the ground. A second later, his fingers found their way to his hair, lacing through his blond waves.
"Come back!" Pope yelled as he halted beside JJ and shook his head at the scene happening before his very eyes.
Izzy and Kiara came to a halt behind the boys with their hearts practically hammering out of their chests. They turned to each other, sharing a concerned look. Izzy reached out to squeeze Kiara's hand as if to let her know that she was there, to which Kiara nodded in return and squeezed her hand back. They turned their attention back to the scene in front of them, unsure of what the outcome of this whole ordeal would be. and it was that uncertainty that made their hearts ache. The uncertainty of the future was what would surely be the end of them, and perhaps that was what scared them the most.
But Izzy was trying to stay focused on the present. She forced herself to watch in silence as the plane, which contained both Ward Cameron and his eldest daughter, slowly turned around and rolled down the airstrip. And unbeknownst to the Camerons, right behind them was John B in his van, speeding down the runway and quickly catching up to the plane.
It all happened in a blur as the camper van seemed to challenge the plane to a race. Ward must have been taken by surprise at the sight of John B racing down the airstrip in his beat-up van, seeing as the plane didn't pick up its speed. That gave John B enough leverage to surpass him as the van raced passed the plane. But the fight wasn't over. The plane seemed to pick up in speed as John B raced a ways further down the airstrip before he swung the van in the middle of the runway, so he was blocking the plane from taking off. And he showed no sign of moving even as the plane sped toward him. He was going to die if he didn't get out of the way in time.
John B Routledge was going to become another one of Izzy Windsor's ghosts in a matter of seconds.
Izzy's hand slipped out of Kiara's as she stepped forward. "He's gonna' hit him. Oh, my God," she cried out. She barely felt her lip tremble as she shook her head and allowed her eyes to burn with tears. But she couldn't watch him die. They were just becoming friends, and she couldn't watch him become another one of her ghosts before her very eyes. It would be too much.
So Izzy did the only thing that she knew would bring her an ounce of comfort. She reached for JJ—the only light in her darkness—and locked her arms around his neck, tugging him closer to her so she could feel the heat of his body radiating onto hers. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face into the crook of his neck and allowed herself to cry softly. She felt JJ quickly wrap his arms around her waist and secure her to his chest as he buried his face into her hair. Her heart still hammered in her chest, but at least this way, she felt held by someone who made her feel safe.
And as he held her, time seemed to slow. It slowed so much, it almost stopped. Izzy barely realized this as her mind began to wander. Images of all the corpses she had ever seen, all the open wakes she'd attended for her relatives, and her mother's corpse popped into her mind. She thought of how John B's father died at the hands of someone else, and then she saw an image of John B being pummeled by a plane by the same man who had taken his father from him. It was all too much to fathom, and Izzy quickly realized, at the end of the day, it would be just her and her ghosts. That thought alone made sobs escape her lips as she cried into JJ's chest and waited to hear the collision.
But the sound of the plane smashing into the van never came. Instead, the sound of a police siren blared through her ears, causing her to jump slightly. Confusion consumed her a second later as she slowly glanced up and searched for the crash, but she only found that no collision had happened. She squinted into the distance, finding that the plane and the van were both intact, and Ward had cornered Sarah and John B on the airstrip. She couldn't make out anything more than that due to how far away they were, but she didn't care. She only saw that her friends were alive, and relief instantly flooded her senses. But it didn't last long as the sound of the police siren started getting louder, indicating that the cops would be arriving soon.
"Guys, I can't get arrested," Pope muttered as he glanced at his friends.
JJ squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "I'm on probation," he muttered under his breath as he tightened his grip around Izzy's waist.
"Look—" Kiara began as she pulled away from Pope and looked at the two blonde teens— "we're no good if we're all in jail."
As those words left her lips, she gave her friends one last glance before she tapped Pope's arm, then took off running. Pope followed after her, and then two ran over the pieces of broken fence, before they disappeared down the road they had come in on. That left Izzy and JJ alone.
Izzy pulled away from JJ, finding he was squinting into the distance where John B and Sarah stood on the airstrip. The Windsor girl bit her lip and sighed. "Come on," she began as she tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. "John B's like a cockroach, right? He'll survive. He'll be okay." She offered him a small smile, but she wasn't sure if it even looked convincing.
But nevertheless, the Maybank boy nodded at her words before he bent down to grab the gun and his red cap from the ground. Once he had his belongings gripped tightly in his hands, he took off running with Izzy hot on his heels, and they just ran.
The warm humidity of the summer air made Izzy feel sticky, and suffocated her under its heat. Her clothes and hair stuck to her body, sweat adhering them to her skin as she kept running even when her muscles began to feel like melted butter. She struggled to keep up with JJ as they ran down the empty road, because the skirt she had decided to wear just wasn't for these types of activities, and she had learned that the hard way. She ignored the irritating feeling of her skirt riding up her thighs, and she ignored the beads of sweat trailing down her face. She was sure her eyeshadow was smudged and running down her cheeks in streaks, but she didn't care, she just kept running.
As they ran, they caught sight of Pope and Kiara running a little ways in front of them. JJ called out to them, and Pope waved the two blondes over. The Heyward boy aggressively pointed to a junkyard up ahead and yelled for them to meet them there. The two blondes quickly picked up their pace and followed Pope and Kiara into the patch of land that contained the junkyard.
Once they turned into the junkyard, the group of teens halted under the part of the land where an open wooden structure was located. Pope bent over and put his hands on his knees to allow himself time to catch his breath while the others piled in. He glanced up to meet his friends' tired gazes and sent them a head nod. "We can hide here for a bit just to be safe," he explained through labored breaths.
Kiara nodded her head, frantically. "Just until John B finds us or we find John B," she breathed out as she put her hands on her hips and tried getting control of her breathing.
No one said a word after that. They weren't sure they could. Everything was just too uncertain. They had no idea if John B had been arrested or if he'd gotten away, and there was no way of knowing what happened to Sarah, or what Ward could have done next. Maybe they had lost. Maybe they had won. But they had no idea, and that was enough to make the silence consume them whole, leaving them to share uneasy looks as they all caught their breaths.
Izzy wasn't sure how much time had passed since they had taken shelter in the junkyard. It could have been a few minutes or maybe more, but she didn't know. Everything was just one big blur as time seemed to speed past her . . . until it stopped. Izzy no longer lived life eighty-seven seconds at a time, but that wasn't the cause of time ceasing altogether. What made the clock pause was the sound of a plane flying above them in the sky.
Everything . . . even hope seemed to be lost as Izzy craned her neck and squinted at the sky, watching as the same plane Ward had loaded the gold (their gold) onto, flew past them. It was like a slap in the face. The universe had taken one look at these helpless teens and spat in their faces; it had taken the last thing all of them had left.
And so, Izzy decided 'fuck the universe'. The universe was an insufferable bitch and didn't give a shit about them. It never cared. It fed on the unfortunate and favored the fortunate. So, yeah, really, maybe there was no such thing as signs, but just things that happened or didn't happen. And perhaps sometimes those things were good, and sometimes they were bad. But Izzy was sure this was something bad that had happened. There was no doubt in her mind. Whether this was some sick joke of a sign or whatever, it didn't matter; they had still lost. That was all she knew.
"There goes the gold," Pope muttered out, voicing the group's thoughts aloud. He put his hands on his head and walked to the back of the wooden structure.
Out of anger, JJ released a grunt and kicked a broken chair. Izzy blinked out of her daze and outstretched a hand toward him, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. She was about to talk him down to calm his anger, but before she could speak, Pope picked up a large rock and chucked it. The rock collided with broken pieces to household items, causing the others to turn and stare at Pope in shock.
"Pope!" Kiara called out.
But Pope wasn't listening. He picked up a baseball bat lying on the floor, then pulled it back to gain momentum before he swung it forward. He brought down the baseball bat on any items he could find, smashing up parts of old chairs and whacking at the walls of the wooden structure as he screamed out profanities. His anger seemed to ooze out of his pores as it consumed him and controlled him. He had become anger, and no matter how many times Kiara called out for him to stop, he didn't. Instead, he chucked the baseball bat at the wall, then picked up a chair and threw it against the floor. And when that was done, he plopped down on a wooden loveseat, gasping for air as he tried not to let the tears fall that were forming in his eyes.
"Pope," was all Kiara mumbled as she stared at the damage he had done.
"Yeah, dude," JJ said after a second as he slowly walked toward the Heyward boy. "I was wondering when this was gonna' happen." He pulled out a blunt, lit it with his lighter, and offered it to him. "Here you go, chief. A little weed never hurt no one."
Izzy shook her head. "JJ, don't," she mustered up.
JJ met her gaze. "Relax," he reassured. "It's fine."
"You know he doesn't smoke," Kiara said, concern consuming her voice.
"Well—" JJ began with a shrug as Pope took the blunt from him— "maybe not until today." He released a sigh and sat down beside the Heyward boy on the loveseat as he put his red cap back on his head to cover his blond hair.
"Pope," Kiara muttered, almost begging. "Yeah, what is that gonna' help?"
Pope lowered the blunt from his lips before he could take a hit. Then, he locked his eyes on Kiara. "I lost my scholarship," he confessed, swallowing hard. "Walked out in the middle of the interview." He shook his head almost as if he didn't believe his own words. "Every—It's gone. It's not gonna' happen."
Kiara closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose. "You did that for us?" she asked, softly, as she slowly opened her eyes and met the Heyward boy's solemn gaze.
But Pope didn't confirm her question; instead, he shook his head as anger consumed him once again. "No, not for us," he spat as he slowly stood to his feet. He approached the Carrera girl and leaned closer to her, so their faces were only a few inches apart. "For nothing."
JJ stood to his feet and wrapped an arm around Pope's shoulders. "I'm here for you, Pope," he said while he patted the boy's chest. "Welcome to my world, okay?"
A scoff left Kiara's lips. "JJ—"
"What, Kie?" JJ questioned, bitterly. "He's right. It doesn't matter anymore." He pointed at the Heyward boy, who had parted from the group and gone to lean against a support beam that was holding up the wooden structure.
Only then did Izzy step toward the Heyward boy. "Pope, trust me, drugs only make shit worse," she said. She, out of everyone, knew the consequences of what could happen if Pope became dependent on drugs to ease his anger. She'd done it too many times before, and while it did give her a temporary high, it always made her feel anxious and worse than before. It only heightened her fears, and maybe that was why she kept doing it—to torture herself. Whatever, the point was, she wouldn't wish that on anyone, and there was no way of knowing if weed would calm Pope's anger or heighten his nerves. "It fucks with you. Some people can handle it. Some people can't. You don't want to take that chance."
Pope blinked at her, his eyes glossing over. "I think I do," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He slowly brought the blunt to his lips, but he didn't inhale.
And just when he was about to inhale, Izzy put a hand over his, stopping him in his actions. "Hey," she said, softly. She had never learned how to be soft, but she had been learning, and by the look in Pope's eyes, it seemed she wasn't doing too bad. "First it's weed, and sure, maybe you'll stop there, and maybe that'll be fun or good or whatever for you . . . but if you don't . . . shit gets real. It'll be cocaine or pills or whatever. It'll be worse, and it'll only get worse. None of it will make you feel any better." She blinked away the burning sensation pricking her eyes and pursed her lips. "You know who I am. You know who I used to be. Just . . . trust me."
Something flashed in Pope's eyes. "I trust you, Iz. I do, but you don't know shit about what I just lost," he said, bitterly, and he was right. Izzy had never known suffering like his. "This—" he held up the blunt— "is the only thing I give a shit about right now, so just . . . just don't." He brought the blunt to his lips and then took a hit.
That made Kiara scoff. "You don't have to do that," she bit out.
Pope breathed out the smoke and gave her a bitter look. "What do you care?" he asked. It was clear he hadn't forgiven her for the other night, and it didn't look like he was going to for a while.
The other teenagers just stared solemnly at Pope as he took another hit from the blunt, then breathed out the smoke. It was too silent, and no one knew what to do. There was just defeat in the air, and that was all they could focus on. But almost like clockwork, footsteps and labored breathed sounded from behind them, and they all glanced over their shoulders to see John B Routledge rounding the corner. His hair was in disarray, and his clothes were stained with blood so red it immediately caught Izzy's eye. The others seemed to notice as well and rushed over to him, but Izzy saw the blood, and she froze.
"Dude!" JJ yelled out as he approached the Routledge boy and gripped onto his arm. "Dude, you good?"
Kiara halted in front of the boy and looked him up and down. "Oh my God . . . John B," she trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder to look at Pope. But Pope only shook his head, his eyes full of concern.
JJ picked up John B's blood-stained hand. "Is this yours?" he asked, slowly.
But John B didn't answer. It seemed he couldn't.
"Whose blood is that?" Kiara questioned as she tugged on the sleeve of the Routledge boy's bloodied hoodie.
Still, no answer came from John B's lips. He only kept staring off into space, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth slightly agape. He resembled a ghost or a corpse (Izzy didn't really know which one fit him best; he just looked lost). And then, his eyes slowly flicked up to meet the Windsor girl's stunned gaze, and she could have sworn her heart stopped. She caught sight of the look in his eyes, and instantly, she knew what had happened. It was the same look which she had worn when she found out her mother died; she had worn it for so long, and there was no way she could ever forget it. Someone had died, and John B had watched it happen.
Pope put a hand on John B's shoulder. "Hey, you okay, man?" he asked, carefully.
But John B kept staring at Izzy. It was almost as if he knew she was the only one who would understand. He was trying to tell her something; he was trying to tell her who died. But Izzy only shook her head. She didn't know, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out.
"John B—" Kiara squeezed the boy's arm, trying to comfort him— "are you okay?"
Only then did Izzy step forward. She walked closer to the group, but she barely felt herself move as her feet dragged across the ground. She kept thinking of the blood staining John B's hands, and then intrusive thoughts consumed her mind. Sarah's dead, a voice whispered in her ear, but she didn't want to believe it. "Sarah . . . is she . . . " she began, her words tangling around her tongue as she tried to formulate her question. "Sarah . . . is she okay? John B, is she okay?"
Her thoughts became the best of her as she stopped before John B and stared at him through her blurry vision. But he still did not give her an answer to ease her mind, and she almost let a sob escape her lips. She just knew she couldn't handle losing Sarah, not when she was the only person to stick around for her, and not for her money or anything superficial like that. The thought of Sarah Cameron becoming one of Izzy's ghosts made the girl sick to her stomach.
And for a second, as Izzy stared at John B and the whole group waited for the answers to the questions swarming their minds, it appeared as though the Routledge boy was about to speak, but before he could, the sound of a police siren went off. The group frantically glanced over their shoulders and caught sight of a sheriff car speeding down the street across from where they stood. At the sight, the teens muttered curses as they ducked down behind all the abandoned furniture.
Izzy barely even heard the siren wail through the air as the police car zoomed down the street and headed toward its destination. She let her mind wander as she imagined where the police car was going in such a hurry. She knew the answer. It was too obvious to miss. Whoever's blood was on John B's hands must have been from the person or people the car was heading toward. That was the reason. Someone had died. She had seen it in John B's eyes. And she couldn't stop wondering if the blood was from Sarah. She just kept picturing Sarah's dead body lying lifelessly on the airstrip with blood pooling around her. That thought alone made Izzy's stomach churn more.
Once the siren silenced in the distance, the group slowly stood to their feet and glanced at each other; all of them were too afraid to break the silence. But Pope was the first one to voice his thoughts. "Are you going to tell us what happened?" he asked John B, hesitantly.
Izzy blinked; her eyelids felt heavy. "Who died?" she questioned, her voice barely audible, and weak.
JJ turned his attention to her. "Iz," he muttered, softly. His eyes stayed soft as well as he sent her a concerned look.
But Izzy didn't care if he was trying to comfort her or whatever. She just wanted to know if Sarah had crossed over to walk amongst the dead. "Well, look at him!" she yelled as she shoved a hand in John B's direction and pointed at the blood staining his hands. "Someone's fuckin' dead!"
"Peterkin," John B finally mustered up, his voice like a whisper. "It's her blood."
As his words filtered in the air, the teens all looked at each other in confusion. Izzy took a step back in shock and swallowed the lump in her throat as she shook her head. A part of her was relieved Sarah was all right (as far as she knew), but the relief didn't last long before she began thinking about who had actually died.
The thing was . . . Izzy didn't really know Sheriff Peterkin, considering her father made sure she stayed out of trouble as much as he could, but she had briefly known her. She knew Susan Peterkin was the town's sheriff, and that was about it. Izzy didn't know much. She never really cared to learn anything about her or any of the other police officers. She barely even knew their names, but that didn't matter . . . death was still death in Izzy's eyes, and she just couldn't believe it.
"What?" Kiara finally asked, her voice weak.
John B clenched his jaw. "Peterkin, the sheriff . . . she's dead," he bit out through gritted teeth. His eyes glossed over with tears, but he refused to let them fall as he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Then, he dropped his hand and made eye contact with his friends. "Rafe killed her."
What? Izzy blinked, taken aback by his confession. "What? Rafe? But . . . " she trailed off, her words getting caught in her throat. She was just so confused. How did Rafe get there? And how did he know where to find them? Why would he . . . kill her? She just didn't know, and the uncertainty of it all made her head spin.
JJ crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't understand," he said, shaking his head. "How did Rafe kill Peterkin?"
John B squeezed his eyes shut and breathed out through his nose. "Peterkin showed up, and I guess Ward thought she was going to help him, but she was trying to protect me," he began, his voice wavering as he spoke. "She was trying to protect me . . . and then she tried to arrest him, but he fought back . . . then she pulled out the gun, and there was a gunshot, but she wasn't the one who shot." His eyes fluttered open as he made eye contact with his friends. "Rafe . . . he came out of nowhere. He shot her. He killed her."
"John . . . " Izzy trailed off; her voice was filled with disbelief.
John B tilted his head. His eyes were rimmed with red, and he looked as if he were about to cry or scream or punch a wall. There was no way of knowing what the Routledge boy was thinking other than he looked as if he were about to detonate. "Do you not believe me, Izzy?" he asked.
Izzy only stared at him. Don't get her wrong . . . she hated the way Rafe had made her feel, and she honestly never wanted to deal with him ever again. After she broke up with him, rage would fill her every time she'd see a text from him pop up on her phone. She always deleted the texts without reading them, and eventually blocked his number. And she remembered how he used to slut-shame her and make her feel like shit for dealing with her own issues; plus all the other fucked up shit he had done to her, but she never thought he would go as far as to . . . murder someone. It only made her realize she didn't know him anymore, and she was sure she didn't want to.
"I do. I do," the Windsor finally managed to say, "but it's just . . . I don't understand why he would do that. He's just not the type to fucking kill someone."
"I'm sorry, Iz, but . . . people change. I know what I saw," John B muttered through gritted teeth. "Rafe pulled a gun on Peterkin, and he shot her right through the chest. He fucking killed her."
His words caused the group to fall into silence. No one spoke, and they weren't sure if they could. Izzy only blinked away her tears, but she stood still. She didn't give a shit about anything else. She was only focused on the fact that someone she had once told everything to had taken someone else's life. Rafe had killed Peterkin, and Izzy knew that. She could see the truth swirling in John B's eyes, and she believed it. She just wished it didn't hurt so much to accept.
People change, she decided. And she knew Rafe had changed. He had turned into an asshole, and someone she didn't want to be associated with. But what mattered was the fact that he had killed someone. He'd personally added onto the list of dead people Izzy Windsor carried around. Only then did she realize, at the end of the day, it would come down to her and her ghosts. It had always been just Izzy and her ghosts. Nothing more. Nothing less.
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Hours had passed since the teens had learned the news of the Sheriff, but if you asked any of them what had happened in those few hours, they wouldn't have been able to tell you. Izzy, especially, couldn't stop thinking about all the people she had lost and just everyone who had died on that cursed island. In that time, she remembered the death of Scooter Grubbs. She wasn't all too sure what had happened to him, but that didn't matter; he had still died. Her mother, Big John, Scooter Grubbs, and now Peterkin were all dead. And sure, she may not have known all of them all that well, but they still haunted her, suffocating her in her own mind.
The others seemed just as bothered as her. Pope had turned to hitting JJ's blunt a few too many times before JJ decided he needed to try something else. Then, the blond boy rolled him a joint and lit it for him. Pope hadn't stopped smoking since. And John B . . . well, he hadn't said a word since, and neither had Izzy. Kiara, on the other hand, tried to stay level-headed, and she was the one who forced the others to start walking back to John B's house that he used to live in (the Chateau as they called it).
They stayed there for a while until the sun set, and John B and Kiara had a talk, before the two of them announced that the group had to go somewhere. They still didn't inform them where they were going even as the group piled into the car sitting in the driveway, and drove down the road. Izzy was sitting in the passenger's seat, watching as Kiara drove down the road and ignored her questioning stare. The boys were sitting in the back seat, but while John B was blankly staring out the window, JJ (who was sitting in the trunk) and Pope were passing a joint back and forth and asking every ten seconds where they were going. Izzy tried to ignore them, and instead, kept her eyes on the road.
Only when Kiara pulled into the back parking lot of the Kildare County Sheriff's Station did Izzy realize what was going on. It seemed the others did, too, as JJ shot forward and grabbed onto John B's arm. "John B, what are we doing at the police station?" the Maybank boy asked.
John B only shrugged. "Somebody's gotta' tell them what happened."
The car came to a halt as Kiara parked on the side of the pavement. As soon as she took the keys out of the ignition, Pope began to cough from the backseat, choking on the fumes from the joint. He continued coughing, causing the others to glance over at him and send him concerned looks.
"Oh," JJ muttered as he patted the Heyward boy's back. "Easy there, chief."
Pope nodded at his friend's words as he continued coughing. "Damn," he sputtered out. He swallowed and controlled his breathing before he brought the joint to his lips (again) and inhaled.
JJ turned his attention from Pope and stared at John B. Then, he released a sigh and latched an arm around the backseat to pull himself forward. "All right, I'm just gonna' be real with you right now," he began as he patted the Routledge boy's shoulder. "You might end up in the lion's den, but you don't go there on purpose. It's fundamental. Just like my old man always told me, you should never ever trust cops, no matter what the circumstance is."
"Your old man's an abusive liar," Kiara spat, her voice strained as she furrowed her brows at him.
Izzy pursed her lips and nodded her head. "Kie's right," she mustered up. It was the first time she had spoken since John B told them the news. She made eye contact with JJ and sent him a concerned look. "You shouldn't listen to a single word that motherfucker says."
"No, I agree with JJ," Pope interjected, his voice dripping with anger. "Fuck the police."
Kiara rolled her eyes. "You goin' to the dark side now?" she said with a small scoff.
Pope only shrugged. "When's the last time the police helped us?"
"Peterkin looked out for me, all right?" John B muttered before anyone else could input their opinions. "Tried to, at least. They need to know." His words made it evident that this wasn't about the police to him; this was about the death of another human being. The boy had seen too much death, and it was clear he couldn't carry this burden anymore. He knew what he had to do, and so did the others.
With that John B sent his friends one last solemn look before he opened the back door and slid out. He slammed the door behind him, leaving the rest of the group to sit in silence as they watched their friend walk up to the police station and disappear inside the building. They knew this was the right thing to do. Someone had died, and this was the only way they could help. But they, or rather Izzy, wished it didn't have to be this way. Too many people had died, and that thought alone almost brought her to tears.
And then, it did bring her to tears. Intrusive thoughts consumed her mind, causing her eyes to prick with hot tears as the faces of the dead popped into her head. This wasn't fair. Fuck this, Izzy thought as her rage bottled up inside her. She tried to contain her anger, but it oozed from her pores, and she couldn't control it. Her rage consumed her as she slammed her hand against the dashboard. "Why does everybody keep dying?!" she expressed, her voice like kerosene in her own veins.
Kiara put a hand on the Windsor girl's shoulder. "Iz—"
But Izzy shoved her off. "It's not fucking fair!" she yelled as she glanced at her friends through her blurry vision. "This town has too many damn ghosts." She shook her head as a lone tear rolled down her cheek, burning her skin. "My mom, Big John, Scooter Grubbs, Peterkin. Who's next? I mean, are we even safe? What if Ward comes after us? What if one of us gets fucked over and dies?"
JJ nodded his head at her. "Iz, look at me," he said, softly, almost as if he were afraid to raise his voice. Then, once Izzy flicked her green eyes to meet his blue ones, he continued. "You're alive. You're alive, and you're not fucking dying, so get that idea out of your head."
"No one's dying," Kiara exclaimed, adding onto JJ's point. She turned to Izzy and offered a smile, then she reached forward and grasped her hand in hers in a comforting manner. "John B will tell them what happened and Rafe and Ward will rot in jail, okay?"
A bitter laugh escaped Pope's lips. "Since when do white men ever go to jail for their crimes?" he questioned before he brought the joint to his lips again and inhaled. He breathed out the fumes a second later and swatted the smoke out of his face.
Kiara wet her lips, but didn't say anything. They all knew he was right, but they had to believe all hope wasn't lost just yet. Nevertheless, Kiara turned away from the boys and glanced back at Izzy with a solemn look in her eyes. "Have you checked in with Sarah?" she asked, quietly.
Izzy nodded; she felt calmer now, but her nerves were still in overdrive. "I texted her a while back at the Chateau, but she hasn't answered," she said as she pulled out her phone and checked her notifications. She saw none from Sarah, which immediately made her heart sink in her chest. "Her dad's probably got her locked up in her house."
"Fuck this," Kiara groaned as she slammed her hands down against the steering wheel. She released a sigh, then turned back to face Izzy and sent her a nod. "We need to get to her."
Izzy nodded and was about to respond when the sound of a door being slammed shut sounded from behind them. The Windsor girl glanced over her shoulder, finding John B was running down the stairs of the police station like his life depended on it. And then, he began to yell.
"Kie! Start the car!" John B called out as he slammed into the car in a panicked fret. He swung open the back door and climbed in, slamming the door behind him. "Start the car, Kie!"
"What? John B?" Kiara questioned, frantically. "What did you do?" She shoved the keys back into the ignition and struggled to turn on the car.
"The cops!" was all John B yelled.
And just as those words left his lips, a woman in a police uniform reached the car, desperately gripping onto the back door and trying to open it. But John B wouldn't let that happen. The boy held onto the door, not allowing the police officer to open it while he yelled at Kiara to start the car. As he yelled, Kiara managed to start the engine, then she slammed her foot down on the accelerator, but not hard enough to ditch the officer. She didn't want to run her over and end up with more spilled blood.
But the police officer didn't care. "Stop the car!" she yelled as she tried to tug open the door. "Right now!"
"What did you do?" Kiara questioned the Routledge boy in a panicked voice.
The boy didn't answer; he was too busy trying to keep the door closed. Izzy glanced over her shoulder with her heart pounding in her chest as she assessed the situation. She noticed another police officer coming up behind the woman to help her, and Izzy knew if they managed to open the door, John B or rather all of them would be done for. She began yelling at the boys to do something, to which they responded by helping John B hold the door closed.
Then Pope's face lit up, and he let go of the door. "Open it!" he shouted.
The police officer tried once more to open the door, but John B had heard his friend's words and he listened. The Routledge boy swung open the back door, hitting the officer. The impact caused the woman to fall to the ground and release her grip. That gave John B enough leverage to slam the door shut as Kiara slammed her foot down on the accelerator and sent the car speeding down the road.
As the group relaxed into their seats and the silence consumed them, Kiara continued driving the car down the road with no sense of direction. After a few minutes passed, she dared to glance at John B in the rear-view mirror. "What the fuck did you do?" she spat. "You better tell me right now, or I'm pulling the car over."
John B shook his head in disbelief. "They think I killed her," he admitted, slowly, his voice weak.
Izzy furrowed her brows. "Who? Killed who? Peterkin?"
Pope blinked. "Why would they—"
But JJ cut him off. "Ward," he muttered, bitterly. "He fuckin' framed you, didn't he?" He clenched his jaw, then reached forward and took the joint from Pope. He brought the joint to his lips and breathed in a long drag.
"We can't go home," was all John B said. His eyes pricked with tears as he glanced at his friends. "They'll be looking for me."
"So then we'll park somewhere and sleep in the car," Kiara said, simply. "It's okay. We're in this together."
The Routledge boy shook his head in protest. "Guys—"
But Kiara intervened. "We're in this together," she spat, her words full of truth. "Pogues don't leave Pogues behind." She glanced at Izzy, then looked through the rear-view mirror to make eye contact with the boys. "Ever."
The group nodded in agreement but didn't say another word. The silence consumed them once again a second later as Kiara continued to drive the car down the road. And as the car drove over speed bumps and passed through the darkness of the vacant streets, Izzy began to feel like she was stuck in some kind of raunchy horror film . . . except this was her real life. She didn't know what to think of that. Fuck, was all she could honestly think. She couldn't even speak. She just knew they were in over their heads, and they had no idea how they were going to dig themselves out of this. They were screwed. So, so, so fucking screwed.
a/n: okay, so that happened. anyways, next chapter is my favorite because um,,,, we get jj's point of view!! it's one of my favorite chapters at least toward the end.....so i hope y'all stick around and enjoy it
also blue made the joke 'pope francis' so credit to her for coming up with that. her mind >>>
also also i know it's not talked about that much, but izzy used to turn to drugs and alcohol to cope with her mother's death and she did it before then just because she was a teen and everyone else was doing it. she wasn't like addicted, but as you can see in ch3 and ch4 she does turn to alcohol when bad shit happens, but after she almost gets herself killed in ch5 that was like her 'turning point' !! that's why she'd so concerned about pope, because she knows how it can fuck with people.
thanks for reading!