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.*･｡. EFF IT! .*･｡.
————PILOT
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008.
BAD APPLES.
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   The next morning, Sonny went to market.

Well, maybe not to market, but to the stalls that were by the south side. They were always better than the ones in Figure 8 centre and she always preferred the produce from the Cut. It was fresher than what Figure 8 got imported and supplied. A lot of the stalls had cool shit, too.

Plus after a hurricane, they always sold stuff they found or dug up in the wreckage — from boat parts to lost and found belongings, and some of the clothes and jewellery were total steals. It earned those in the Cut some extra cash too, and as far as Sonny was concerned, they deserved it. All that grafting, their hard work, and half of them still couldn't afford to live; it was shitty, which was probably why Sonny always went and bought everything and more from every local around, it gave them something extra.

   Local is best, her parents always said. Which made sense, in the respect that they got all their deliveries via Heyward— a longtime friend and Pope's father.

It was always a good way to avoid Topper Thornton too, in the event Sonny was super pissed at him. He wouldn't be this close to those stalls if you paid him. Perhaps three years prior, before Rafe Cameron corrupted him, but not now. Which had its advantages: it was a Topper-free zone.

   Come to mention it, Topper was probably with Rafe, right now. The idea made her scowl.

He had knocked on her door that morning.

   First thing, too. Bright and early.

   Sonny's mom told him she was already out, running some errands. Which wasn't technically a lie — she had errands to run that day (did shopping count as errands?), Sonny merely hadn't gone to do them yet...

   Sure, her car was still in their drive, and Topper was smart enough to know she hadn't walked across the island since she hated walking that far, but he appeared to accept it. Probably because he intended to have his mom like him still. He had to be the biggest suck up ever.

   Sonny was just grateful her mother had read the sign she'd attached to their side of the door — the one Sonny taped to the wood in the middle of the night, after she got home from the Boneyard. She knew Topper would come to apologise the next morning — and she'd been right, as always — but there was no way she wanted to see him. Not yet. He was always an asshole recently, but he had been a whole new kind of asshole last night. It was insanity.

IF TOPPER KNOCKS, I DIED!

"Sorry, honey. She isn't here."

    "Oh," Topper had said, "Uh, where is she?"

    "Errands," Natasha replied. "I'll tell her you stopped by, though— okay?"

   Her mom hadn't used the died part, but that was alright. So long as Topper wasn't let in, then Sonny was happy. Patching things up with him could wait.

He had nearly killed John B. So forgive Sonny if she didn't feel like patching things up with him, right now. He messed it all up, like he always messed things up lately, and she had no patience for it today.

It would be no different to the last time, or the time before that, or before that. Topper would mess up, again and again. He had shown her as much. And while Sonny had a habit of messing things up too, it was never the same as when Topper did it. He always did something wrong, dropped by to say he was sorry, then he did it again. Always.

Because he was always with Rafe.

Ugh, Rafe.

If murder was legal, she would take down Rafe Cameron before anyone else had the chance.

   Okay, maybe she wouldn't do it, but if god was ever taking suggestions on who to eliminate, he would be the first request she made. Or if he happened to die, if somebody else got his ass first, she wouldn't complain. In fact, the smart girl she was, Sonny would thank that person. Maybe Sonny would even say Rafe deserved it — was that a terrible thing for her to say? Probably, but she didn't care. She knew a whole lot of people who would preach the same; it was Rafe, after all. He always did everybody dirty eventually.

But Topper hadn't needed Rafe to be there, last night. It was clear he was still the devil sitting on his shoulder. Topper didn't need Rafe to convince him. He'd fought John B on his own accord. Sure, JJ poked and prodded, but it was ultimately in Topper's name — first punch and all.

Rafe was like a shadow, he followed Topper everywhere; like a darkness that loomed, even in sunlight. He was always there.

   Sonny hated him.

She hated Topper, too. Well, maybe not, because she had that awful feeling she would get when they fought — that he would somehow worm his way back in again, no matter the lengths she went to pushing him away.

Sonny wasn't a pushover the same way Topper wasn't an actually bad kid. She never let people walk over her, and he didn't do bad things all the time, but there were exceptions. There were always exceptions in everything you did. While Topper's exception was Rafe, Sonny's exception was Topper; and no matter how much she wished he wasn't, it just never seemed to change.

She could never quite push him away.

Even when she thought she had, when she had pushed so much that her body ached, Topper always seemed to worm his way back in. Why was that?

   It was so annoying.

The more she pushed, the more he pulled, and the gap in between them always stayed the same. A big, gaping hole of darkness that formed when Sonny forced him out of her life the first time. But, somehow, it never got any bigger. It always stayed the same. Neither of them would let go, they couldn't let go, even if Sonny didn't want Topper around anymore, if he wanted her to let him roam. And while they couldn't find the courage to get rid of each other, they couldn't quite mend each other's broken parts, either.

   Sonny certainly didn't want to fix his.

You can't polish a turd.

    "That's six dollars, please!"

   Sonny fished the money from her purse and passed it over, taking the punnet of berries from the woman in return. The girl thanked her, continuing to mosey on around all the fruit and vegetable stands.

   There had been some good finds so far — shell necklaces and a couple of old surf shirts, and Sonny had even put in a bit of money towards fixing up houses in the Cut, in one of those little charity pots. She had done it quickly and walked away before anyone noticed.

   It wasn't that the south side was charity, but it was no real secret they didn't have money to clean up after a hurricane. Not the kind of money in Figure 8, anyway.

   Her mother and father helped out in the Cut after storms, but that didn't mean Sonny shouldn't help where she could. Maybe she wasn't the most morally righteous, but she knew how to do a decent thing.

   Even if she was technically a Kook.

   Snatching a blueberry from the punnet, Sonny popped it into her mouth as she walked.

    "Ah, nice!"

   Before she could stop it, a hand reached over her shoulder and swiped a blueberry from the punnet of fruit. It was gone in a second. Sonny scowled.

   She knew that voice.

   The girl slowly turned around, her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes narrowed. Sonny hadn't really wanted to see him, not after everything that happened yesterday. Following that shit, Sonny had hoped to never see a Pogue again. But now she had seen one — him all of Pogues— and he'd stolen her fruit. She wanted to reach out and smack him.

Freaking JJ Maybank.

    "I mean— I'm more of a strawberry guy, myself— but I guess blueberries are alright."

JJ shrugged, reaching out to take another berry, but Sonny smacked his hand away. He frowned, pulling it back into the safety of his chest. "What the fuck, man?"

The words made her want to laugh, sheerly at the irony — what the fuck, her? What about, what the fuck him? Was he serious, right now?

JJ huffed, looking her up and down.

"You always so violent?" He smirked, "Take me to dinner first, princess. Then we can get as violent as—"

Sonny scoffed.

She span on her heel and walked away.

"Hey!"

   She didn't listen and instead continued on. JJ scrambled to keep up with her, his boots hitting the ground as he followed, but Sonny gave him no audible response. She went faster, an attempt to avoid him.

    "You ignoring me, princess?"

Wasn't that obvious?

   Unfortunately JJ caught up. He slung an arm around her shoulders, and it sat there for a second until Sonny shot him an angry glare, and so he swiftly moved it away before she'd the chance to remove it for him— and likely the entire limb from his body. She seemed like she would do that without a hint of remorse. Still, JJ stuck close to her side. His long legs were a slight advantage over hers — only slightly, since they weren't much longer, but he still kept an even pace between them.

"C'mon, Kook." He badgered, "You can't just ignore me forever! I just wanna talk. Can't we talk?"

    "Depends," she shrugged.

"On what?"

"You bring your gun, hot shot?"

    "Oh," he faked a laugh, wagging a finger at her, "That was a good one," he remarked.

   Sonny rolled her eyes.

When his finger didn't move from her face, Sonny snapped at it and watched him flinch back, away from a chomping set of teeth. In his moment of surprise, smirk on her lips, Sonny slipped away and dodged a few passersby.

   Feet light, she weaved between the stalls, hoping for a fair advantage in losing him. She moved quickly. Nimbly. Like at the motel, JJ noticed.

"Jesus—! Are you fuckin' feral?"

His voice was somewhere behind her, and she could hear locals tsk and tut about his language, and then his mutters for them to get out of his way. Most of the Cut knew JJ (everyone knew JJ), and they didn't hesitate to reprimand him like they were his parents.

Come to think of it, who were JJ's parents?

   It was clear that Kiara and Pope had parents that deterred them from Pogue lifestyle, and John B's father was missing in the middle of the ocean, and his only guardian ran off to the mainland, which meant he was free to do whatever he wanted before DCS caught up to him.

   But, what about JJ?

   Sonny figured that whatever guardians he had mustn't have cared much. For Pogue life, for the trouble— because he just kept doing it. But someone had to bail him out of jail, right? So why didn't they stop him?

Sonny's parents didn't stop her, not necessarily, but she also didn't get up to half the things JJ did. That stemmed back to the wealth difference though. JJ wasn't as fortunate as Sonny was. She lived comfortably, while he survived. Sometimes, to survive, you had to get your hands a little dirty. Sonny always chose to get into trouble.

   JJ didn't always have a choice.

    "Princess!"

    She groaned, loudly.

    "Can you hear me out?" He caught up to her sooner than she would have liked him to, ducking between stalls, going as far to jump over one, just to try and make it to her side before she disappeared.

    "You said enough to me last night."

    "Holding grudges, Kook?"

    Sonny huffed, "Stop calling me Kook, asshole."

    "You prefer princess?" JJ taunted. Her jaw flexed.

    "How about you stop calling me anything, and I won't go to Peterkin? Tell her I know who shot a gun at the boneyard last night? Sound good?"

   Lips in a threatening smile, Sonny turned to stare him right in the eyes. He ran his tongue over his teeth, glaring hard. He said nothing though, just cleared his throat.

   Sonny nodded, pleased, "Yeah— they know." She smirked, low. "Heard there's a nice reward for any useful information."

   He quirked his brow.

    "That a threat?"

    "I don't make threats," she said, "I make promises."

   JJ chuckled humourlessly, "Cute. Real cute. Sure, I mean— go rat us out, whatever. But you realise when they pull me into that office, cuffs n'all, I might just squeal like a piggy. Tell 'em where I got the gun, everyone involved— right?" He leaned in closer to her face, "And last I checked, you were in that motel room with us, sugar."

   The new nickname made her cheeks warm in irritation, as did the threat he was giving her.

   Sonny had to stop herself from striking him dead. And he noticed, "Sugar has a nice ring to it, don't ya think? Maybe I like it even more than princess... yeah, maybe."

    "I don't wanna be apart of your little Pogue games," Sonny kept her voice low. Her wording made him glower at her, but she was stony and hardly bothered. "Keep my name out your mouth, I'll keep yours of out mine. Got it?"

He grinned.

    "Where's the fun in that?"

Ugh, he was insufferable.

    "Look— I've been ever so faithfully elected by all my dirty Pogue friends—" that jab at Topper was decent, "—to recruit you into our little Pogue games," and a jab at Sonny, "I see that as an honour for both of us, alright?"

Sonny scoffed, "Is that right?"

"You're in this now, you're just as involved as we are, Kook or not." JJ shrugged like he was some saint, "And you're not getting out of it that easy."

    "I'm not gonna get out of it that easy, or you're not gonna let me?" She tested.

    "Bit of both."

    "Bit of both..." Sonny muttered, "Great."

   Once again, she pushed him out of her way and stalked off. It was the same direction she had come in but Sonny couldn't bring herself to care. She just wanted to get away from JJ, and get away from his fast.

    "We got a plan, okay?" The boy defended, scrambling to follow her through the crowd.

"A plan?" Sonny tilted her head to the left. She didn't wait up for him as she walked, fluidly dipping between south side islanders, letting out a sarcastic hum. Did he really think that was going to convince her? Some shitty plan? He nodded. It made her eyes roll. "Well I'm sold!"

As he rolled his eyes, JJ tried to explain; "We're gonna take the Pogue back out on the marsh, dive back down, see what's on that Grady-White."

"Like what?" She frowned.

"I dunno, cash? Dude was straight smuggling!"

"He was?"

"Who goes out in a hurricane, princess?"

Fair point, Sonny decided.

She didn't know if Scooter Grubs was much of a smuggler, not other than the tales of weed he'd sold to teenagers years ago, but it did kinda make sense. There weren't many other reasons to take out a boat in the hurricane. Everybody knew Agatha was coming — there'd been weather warnings for a whole week. Scooter Grubs was no exception. He was going out for something.

"John B saw his boat when they surfed the surge," JJ said, which made Sonny's brows jump. Booker surfed the surge? "And you know my bet? There's gotta be something' pretty fuckin' decent on that boat."

"And you guys want it," she pieced it together.

"Smart princess," he grinned at her wolfishly, "And we're gonna get it, too."

We're gonna get it, too.

She mulled his words over in her mind as she slipped into a convenience store, grabbing a drink and paying for it while JJ waited outside. She chose a Sprite and a Coke, then thanked the lady with a distracted but polite smile. When she stepped outside, JJ still was leant against the wall, arms in a cross over his chest as he tried to be patient.

Sonny whistled and he span around, just in time to catch a can that came flying toward him. He looked at it, grimaced.

   SPRITE? Gross.

It was clear Sonny had no intention of waiting for him, so he was left to rely on that talent for running away from cops and Kooks, catching up to her as she cracked open the Coke in her hands. She took a sip, frowned, and then glanced over at his can of Sprite.

JJ swapped their drinks over wordlessly.

She took the Sprite and opened it, satisfied with the sound that came from it, and took a sip. She rolled her eyes when JJ gargled half the can of Coke in one go. Boys were so disgusting.

"So, tell me: what's the rest of this plan?"

JJ frowned, wiping his mouth.

"The rest?"

"The rest," she echoed, "How are you gonna dive down? It's, like— over ten feet."

Sonny wasn't dumb, and neither was he — not about the water. If they'd dived down and found the motel key just like Sonny had, then they'd know Scooter's boat was right at the bottom of the marsh. You couldn't breathe down there long enough to loot it.

"Scuba gear," JJ said, like it was obvious.

Sonny squinted, "Where are you gonna get scuba gear?"

Maybe it was rude to assume none of the Pogues had their own set of scuba equipment, but it was a Kook sport. So, the only one likely to have that kind of stuff was Kiara; and since Sonny had never seen Kiara dive, she could only assume that she didn't, just like how she didn't do many Kook things. That meant they didn't have any scuba gear, and they'd have to go find it elsewhere. Probably poach it.

"Already thought of that," the blonde boy looked so proud of himself. "John B's got it covered. All we gotta do is not get caught out there. Easy."

John B?

How was he gonna get them scuba gear?

Deciding she didn't particularly care for any of the illegal details, Sonny stopped near a cart of apples, fingers dancing along the wooden stall. JJ stopped beside her, and rested his elbow against the cart, watching her peer down at the fruits. He didn't really like apples.

"Why?"

"Huh—?" He blinked, "Why, what?"

"You want me involved," Sonny said. She looked at him, away from the fruit, and rose a brow. "Why?"

"You're already involved," JJ was right, she supposed. He shrugged his shoulders. "And at this point, you're either with us or against us, princess."

Sonny narrowed her eyes.

"You guys want my scuba gear," she took a guess.

   He shrugged, "Only if you're offering,"

She scoffed at him and rolled her eyes, "I thought John B had it covered?"

"He does," JJ told her, "But it'd be even less illegal if you gave yours up, totally willingly."

"How'd you even know I have scuba gear?"

"Total Kook sport."

She hated that he was right.

   Albeit begrudgingly, Sonny thought about it. Sure, she could lend them her family's scuba gear, but that would mean she'd be putting her ass on the line. If they broke it, Sonny would be the one at blame, and if they got caught, it would get her too involved. Nobody was supposed to be around the marsh right now. Her parents had told her that. People were searching for Scooter Grubs' boat. If somebody saw them diving, then they would be immediate suspects.

Sonny felt like a broken record saying she didn't want to be apart of this mystery, but it was true. At least, she thought so — no, Sonny didn't want to get involved.

It wasn't a Sherlock novel.

Protect your bubble.

"You're not having my gear," she finally told him, "And I'm not getting involved. Haven't I already said that? Do you ever actually listen?"

"Why not?" JJ asked her, "There could be something, like, insane down there! And you don't want a piece of it? Not even some? It could be cash! Or, or—"

"Seaweed?"

JJ rubbed his face.

"Okay—" he started loudly, but lowered his tone when his voice garnered unwanted attention. "Okay. I know you don't need money, but we're giving you a chance to do something fucking awesome. We both know shit like that doesn't happen on this island, and I know you ain't just some Kook princess, like all the rest of them," he said. "Your green is too good."

Was that a compliment?

"So stop being such a Kook and come with us."

   Her eyes narrowed, "No thanks."

    "Why not?"

The million dollar question. Why not? It made her lip curl, and she tried to come up with a good response, but she had none. What was she to say?

Her eyes fell upon the apples again.

    "Think of it like this." She lifted an apple and polished it against her shirt. "This island's got good apples, and it's got bad apples," Sonny held the apple up to the light, "Some of us shine and some of us don't."

He squinted.

"And which one am I?"

"You..." Sonny looked between him and the apple sat in her hand; a silence falling over them. She bit her lip, "You're a bad apple, JJ Maybank."

"Because I'm a Pogue?" JJ assumed.

"Not necessarily," she shrugged, uncaring. "But you are. Wanna know how I know?"

Slowly, she walked towards him, until her chest was to his. Being close to JJ Maybank didn't feel foreign to Sonny, in an unorthodox way. He didn't intimidate her, nor did he repulse her. He was comfortable, almost.

Her dark eyes bore into his blue, and JJ felt as though her stare could go right through him.

   He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

"How?"

"Bad apples have bruises," Sonny said, eyes flickering to glance at the faint purple bruise on his chin. She wondered where he had gotten it — Topper hadn't hit him. Probably some other scummy fight from the last week. Her stare met JJ's again, "And I don't hang out with bad apples, JJ."

Pulling the apple to her lips, Sonny took a bite and swiftly stepped away from him.

The immersion was broken with a crunch.

He wanted to glare at her. To call her a bad apple. But, he didn't. JJ was busy staring. She tossed the apple at him and he caught it easily, unable to pull his eyes off her. Even as Sonny turned on her heel and walked into the crowds of islanders, a disappearing figure in the distance, both middle fingers up in the air, JJ couldn't look away.

"Later, asshole!" She hollered.

   Finally, he frowned.

The man at the stall turned to look at the boy, brows raised at the half eaten apple in his palm. He'd almost laughed at JJ's face. Almost. "You gonna pay for that apple, Maybank?"

    JJ looked at the apple and rubbed his nose in irritation.

"What a bitch."

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⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀