chapter twenty-four
the boy saw the comet

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Isadora Windsor wished there was a way to check out of reality for just a second. Maybe then if she got one tiny break she could finally find peace. Maybe then she wouldn't be so fucking tired. (And maybe if she slept at all that night she wouldn't be tired at all, but . . . how could she sleep after all that had happened?) But in all honesty, she was just tired of being tired. But that wasn't the point. The point was: she was tired of everyone dying or leaving her. And she knew she had no right to be upset about Sheriff Peterkin being shot, because, honestly, she didn't even know the woman, but she couldn't help but spend the night curled up in the seat and think about what had happened. She knew it wasn't the best way to deal with all the shit going on in her life right now, but she couldn't stop herself from fixating on the woman's death and dwelling on it.

Death was just a weird concept for the girl to grasp. Sure, she got it, but she hated it. It just reminded her too much of her mother, and that always sucked. It reminded her of the blood which stained her mother's skin, and the open wounds that cut deep in the woman's mangled body. She fucking hated it. And she was tired of being forced to remember all that shit.

She thought things were looking up. And while they were in a way, she was in more trouble than she had ever been and she didn't know how to handle that. Another person had died, and she had known the boy who took Peterkin's life. That was perhaps the part that got her. It was the fact that she had known Rafe all her life, and then he had just suddenly done this.

And on top of that, the Camerons had framed John B for the crime, which just fucking sucked. Not to mention . . . she had no idea what her father thought or what he was doing. Maybe he had already gotten on another plane and fled town. She wouldn't be surprised. But honestly, she didn't know what to think. Fuck, was all she could manage.

Izzy tried to push those thoughts away as her eyes fluttered open that morning. She thought back to the night before, and dread filled her. You see, last night, Kiara had parked the car by an abandoned shed and decided that was enough to conceal them from wandering eyes. So they slept there, but Izzy hadn't slept the entire night . . . mostly because trying to share a seat with JJ had proven to be harder than she thought (by that she meant he kept moving in his sleep and it was pissing her off). So not only was she tired of all this bullshit, but she was also actually just tired tired.

She only sighed at that realization and shifted in the seat, so her cheek was resting on JJ's shoulder while she toyed with the shark tooth necklace around his neck. She felt his arm snake around her; then he began to drum his fingertips against her thigh as he smoked a joint. While she rested there, she let her eyes wander over to her friends. Pope and Kiara were in the front seats with their elbows resting on the windowsills, and John B was sitting in the seat beside Izzy and JJ, with his seat down, so no one passing by caught sight of him. And everyone was silent . . . almost too silent.

Almost like clockwork, Kiara reached over and turned on the radio to fill the silence. But the voice on the radio only filled the group with annoyance. "Good news for residents of Outer Banks. Dominion Power says their underwater transmission line, which will restore power to ninety percent of the area, should be functional within twenty-four hours," the person on the radio explained, cheerily.

Izzy rolled her eyes. She didn't realize how pretentious she had been in the past. She had overlooked the fact that she had power while the other half of the island was still struggling. Not to mention the fact that the people she used to associate with would have called the people on the Cut lazy for not having any power, which didn't make any fucking sense, but rich people rarely made sense. But that wasn't the part that got her. What got her was the fact that people like that could get away with saying those things. Wealthy people could get away with everything. What had happened to the Sheriff and to John B was the perfect example. And it wasn't fair. None of this was fair. It never had been.

The sound of a police siren blaring through the air snapped Izzy out of her trance. She felt JJ peer over his shoulder to catch sight of the commotion as the siren grew closer. She heard the siren zip past them and fizzle out into the distance, signaling that the police car had passed by them without recognizing the teenagers. Once JJ realized they were safe for now, he turned back around and released a sigh, then continued to drum his fingertips against Izzy's thigh.

The silence set in again, and the newscaster on the radio continued (it all seemed like some sick, planned joke if you asked Izzy). "And still, no arrest in the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from—" But Kiara switched off the radio before the person could finish.

Before the silence could slither back into their lives, JJ spoke up. "Let's game this out," he began as he shifted lower in the seat. "Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but . . . who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us?" He paused and looked at John B. "So the accuser is a bigshot developer, kind of lord of the island next to Izzy's shit father, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused . . . is John B, who is . . . pretty much a homeless sixteen-year-old boy at the moment."

John B breathed out through his nose. "Thanks," he scoffed.

"Shit," Pope muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The rest of the group stayed silent, though. None of them had any words for this situation.

"Okay, man—" JJ began as he smacked John B's arm— "Yucatan, all right? I'm saying that's the only option. Lacanau is too fuckin' far, and we're broke as shit. So, it's our best bet. Besides, what other option do you have?"

John B put his hand up to silence his friend. "Enough with the Mexico bullshit," he muttered, monotonously. "Sarah will bail me out."

Kiara peered over at them and nodded. "She did witness the whole thing," she mumbled, her voice soft.

"Thank you," John B sighed.

A scoff left Pope's lips. "And she's gonna' snitch on her brother?"

JJ brought the joint up to his lips and inhaled. He breathed out the smoke a second later while he shook his head and looked back at John B. "Not happening, bro. Okay?" he told him, his voice curt. "We've got to get you off the island."

"The ferry," Pope added. "It's the only way."

John B couldn't help but scoff. "Look, there's still another way," he claimed as he raised his hand in the air to express his point. "Sarah will vouch for me. She wouldn't—"

"She's not like them, okay? I know her," Izzy finally spoke up, interrupting the Routledge boy. Her throat felt scratchy . . . mostly because she hadn't spoken all morning and she didn't really know if she could. She just felt so tired. But, nevertheless, when all the teenagers' eyes fell on her, she forced herself to continue. "This sounds so fuckin' stupid, but she's never been like this with anybody except John. She's like totally in love with him. She wouldn't screw him or us over like that."

"I still say we get you out of this hellhole," JJ contradicted before he took another hit from the joint pinched between his fingers. He breathed out the smoke, then cleared his throat and nodded at John B. "Exit stage left while you still can. Before the island is on lockdown."

The piercing sound of a siren echoed throughout the air, signaling that another police car was headed their way. And Kiara was the first to address it. "Guys, just get down," the Carrera girl muttered.

As the police car zipped past them, the teenagers all hunkered down in their seats to be sure they wouldn't be seen. And even once the car had disappeared down the road, the group still stayed in their seats, barely moving. But Izzy's head was spinning. She was trying to make sense of everything, but she was just so fucking confused. She just wanted everything to sort itself out. God, she just wanted to fucking relax and go into hibernation or some shit. Plus, her eyeshadow had wiped off in the night, and that severely pissed her off even more. So, really, Izzy wasn't having a great time.

"Sarah's not a Pogue, John B," Pope said after a minute of silence.

"Yeah," JJ agreed. "You can't stay here, man."

That rubbed Izzy the wrong way. She knew she could be selfish and conceited like all the other rich bitches with trust funds. But Sarah wasn't like that; she wasn't like her. Sarah Cameron always did the right thing (for the most part) while it took Izzy a few tries to figure everything out. "I'm not a Pogue either," she finally spat as she pushed away from her boyfriend and glared at him. "Sarah will do the right thing. She's got like a moral compass built into her or some shit."

JJ shook his head and put a hand on her knee. "Okay, look, you're not a Pogue-Pogue, but you're different, Iz," he said with a shrug.

Izzy rolled her eyes. She was tired of that 'you're different' bullshit. Like, just shut up. "You're being a hypocrite," she bit out.

JJ squinted his eyes as he thought about his next words. It was clear the weed was setting in and messing with his head, but it wasn't like he cared. Then his eyes lit up with realization, and he clicked his tongue. "You're like a special guest," he said as a wide grin spread across his face.

Izzy raised a brow. "Special guest?" she questioned, dumbfoundedly. "J, what the fuck does that even mean?"

"Well—"

But John B cut him off before he could finish making a fool of himself. "We'll check the times for when the ferry leaves," the Routledge boy muttered, his voice strained. He glared out the window, not bothering to look at his friends or acknowledge them in any way.

A sigh left Kiara's lips. "John B—"

"This is my best bet, right?" the Routledge boy snapped. "So, let's go." He kept his eyes trained on the outside as he clenched his jaw.

The silence then did consume the group. It wrapped its arms around them, pulling them into a cold embrace and leaving them with a feeling of unease in the pits of their stomachs. No one bothered to speak. No one could, and Izzy felt as though her head was on the verge of exploding. She just wanted everything to sort itself out. That was what she wanted. She wanted to believe that things would be fine once they got to Sarah. Because that was what Izzy wanted. She wanted hope. It was all she had left.

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If Izzy was being honest, she didn't know how much time had passed since they headed back onto the road. It could have been an hour. It could have been a few minutes. Truth be told, she just didn't know. Everything was just a blur as her mind flooded with images of all the people she had lost . . . even the people she didn't really know. She just kept thinking about them all, and she couldn't stop. She wanted to hope that things would work out, but it was so incredibly hard when it felt as though everything else was lost.

She barely even noticed when Pope made Kiara switch seats with him so he could drive. He had claimed he just had to drive since he was convinced no one would recognize him out of the whole group. Plus, the weed that JJ had given to him was really fucking with his brain, so he wasn't really thinking rationally, and he wouldn't let anyone talk him out of driving. So with sighs of defeat, the rest of the teenagers just let the boy get behind the steering wheel, and watched carefully as he drove the car onto the main road and led them into town. They didn't really care. They just wanted to make it to the marina to see when the ferry would be leaving next.

Spoiler alert: things didn't work out as well as they planned . . . of course.

As soon as they headed into town, Pope managed to get them immersed in a long road of traffic. Like, a lot of traffic. It seemed cars were bumper to bumper as they slowly migrated down the road. That, of course, made the group anxious, considering anyone could look through the window and spot the teens. And if that happened . . . well . . . they'd be screwed.

Honestly, they didn't know what they were doing. They were just sixteen, after all. They had no idea how much shit they were in, and they didn't know how to deal with that. They were basically grasping at straws at this point. But it seemed Pope was one step ahead of them (as usual).

Once they made it close enough to the marina, Pope hopped out of the car and walked toward a bulletin board. No one questioned his motives, and no one tried to stop him. They figured he was going to go check the times for the ferry, so they just let him go while the rest of them waited in the car, fanning themselves. It wasn't like traffic was going to move any time soon anyway, so whatever.

A few seconds later, Pope came running back to the car with a flyer in his hands. "Okay," he sputtered out, frantically. "All right, no."

"Pope, can you act normal?" Kiara hissed, trying to keep her voice quiet so she wouldn't raise attention to the group.

Pope rounded the side of the car and leaned against the sill of the open window. "So, um . . . okay, so, bad news," he began, causing everyone to look at him with concerned faces. "The ferry's closed, and there is this." He outstretched his hand, gesturing for Kiara to take the flyer pinched between his fingers. Kiara immediately ripped it from his grasp, and then he swung open the car door and climbed into the driver's seat before he slammed the door behind him.

Kiara stared at the flyer in her hands for a few seconds. Then her eyes widened, and she shook her head in disbelief as she handed the flyer over to JJ. The Routledge boy seemed to catch onto the look on her face, and his eyes widened in a panic. "What is that? What is this?" he questioned, his voice stranded as he watched JJ take the paper from the girl and stare at it.

"Shit," Kiara muttered as she leaned her head against the headrest.

Izzy tore her eyes from the Carrera girl and trained her gaze on the flyer in her boyfriend's hands. Her eyes traveled across the paper, taking in the information in disbelief. The flyer was a wanted poster of John B, claiming he had murdered Sheriff Peterkin, and that whoever caught him would be rewarded twenty-five thousand dollars. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, was all she could think as that word repeated over and over again in her head. She almost couldn't believe this was real. It just felt so obscure. So much for things working themselves out, huh? Everything just got so much fucking worse.

"Well, John B," JJ finally scoffed, "uh . . . this is a good framer of you." He clenched his jaw and flashed the Routledge boy the poster of his face. John B only responded by staring blankly at it before he focused his gaze back to the hood of the car.

"Okay, so," Pope began, "the whole island's lookin' for John B right now."

Kiara stared at the Heyward boy with wide eyes. "That's a lot of money," she muttered, her voice dripping with shock.

"Congratulations, John B. You're famous," JJ scoffed as he passed the paper to John B, so the boy could look his own fate in the eyes. The Routledge boy took the poster from his friend, and only stared at it without uttering a word.

"Guys, we got to get to the HMS," Kiara began, frantically. "We need small, no running lights—"

But John B cut her off. "It's at the Chateau, Kie," he said in a monotonous voice. It seemed he was giving up.

"And I wonder if the cops got the entire place staked out," JJ aggressively spat as he tugged a hand through his blond hair. "Let me think. Yeah, no. They definitely have that place on lockdown."

That made Kiara release a heavy sigh. "Yeah, copy that."

Pope pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as well. "Let me think. Just give me a second," he muttered, his voice dripping with frustration. He massaged his temples for a few seconds before he shot up in his seat and glanced over his shoulder to stare at Izzy, who had been silent for the entire ride. "Izzy." He snapped his fingers at the girl.

Izzy blinked. "Yeah?" she questioned in a hoarse voice. She hadn't spoken since they left the shed, which was so . . . so unlike her. She just wasn't used to keeping her mouth shut for so long or not saying something bitter every few seconds. But she felt as though she couldn't speak. It was just too much. She couldn't juggle dealing with her intrusive thoughts and trying to keep a conversation.

But Pope didn't seem to notice the tone of her voice; he just continued talking. "You've got, like, boats and shit, right?" he questioned as he searched her eyes for confirmation. "Can we borrow one?"

Izzy blinked . . . again. She didn't really know what to say. She was kind of too tired to speak, but she knew realistically if she tried to borrow one of her dad's boats after basically telling him she wanted emancipation, he'd take her by the hand and lock her up inside their estate. Then, they'd really be fucked. "No," she finally muttered out. "My dad basically told me to fuck off. He probably has security guards hanging around the dock by now. I don't even think I could go home. He'd, like, detain me or some shit. Plus, he'd back up Ward no matter what. If he caught us, John B would definitely go to jail."

"Fuck," Pope groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose again. But his annoyance didn't last long before he snapped his eyes to JJ. "Wait . . . JJ."

JJ furrowed his brows. "What?"

"Does your dad still have that boat?" the Heyward boy questioned as he wiggled his fingers. "The cigarette boat, the Phantom. The one he used to race."

"Maybe," JJ mumbled as he rubbed his fingers together.

Pope sent the boy a head nod. "You could get right up the coast, no problem."

"Okay, look," Kiara but in, trying to grasp the group's attention. "The surf's running from three to four."

"It won't be easy, Pope," JJ muttered. He subconsciously tightened his grip around Izzy's waist, pulling her closer to him as if she were the only comfort he found solace in. His hand lingered on her waist as he rubbed his thumb against her side. "I don't know where the keys are."

"Well, find them," Pope spat as he put the keys in the ignition.

"I'm thinking," was all JJ mumbled while he continued to slowly rub his thumb against his girlfriend's side.

Pope suddenly slammed his hands against the steering wheel. "Why is nobody moving forward?" he spat through gritted teeth.

"Can you relax?" Kiara questioned as she gestured with her hand for him to lower his voice. "JJ, how much weed did you give him?"

Before JJ could answer, John B glanced over his shoulder and broke the tension. "Guys," he began in a warning tone. "Your car's on the poster."

At that, Izzy's eyes widened. Fuck. "They're gonna' fuckin' recognize us," she muttered under her breath. "We gotta' get the fuck out of here, guys."

But Pope wasn't listening to them. He only slammed his hand down on the car horn. "Can we move it?" he shouted as he continued beeping the horn.

"Pope!" Kiara hissed. "Don't honk the horn." She glanced over her shoulder in annoyance, trying to find if anyone had spotted them while Pope continued honking the horn. Then, she caught sight of a little boy standing next to his mother, who just so happened to be pointing at the group of teenagers as if he recognized them. And Kiara, as well as the rest of the others, just knew they had been spotted. "Shit."

"We got a snitch," JJ groaned. "Pope—" he patted the Heyward boy's shoulder— "turn the car on."

As if things couldn't get any worse, others had caught onto the boy's shouts, and a man approached the car. "Hey!" the man shouted as he pounded on the window, pointing at John B. "He's right there!"

"Hey! We gotta' go!" Kiara pressed as other bystanders and a few cops began to approach the car and yell at the teens. The Carrera girl shook her head, frantically. "Pope, turn the frickin' car on!"

"I am trying!" Pope expressed as he tried twisting the keys in the ignition to start the car. He finally turned the key, and the engine roared to life, then, he pressed down on the gas pedal and ended up smashing into the car in front of him. The impact caused the teens to jerk forward before they smashed back into their seats.

The others shouted in concern and frustration as Pope tried moving forward, pushing the other car far enough, so he had enough room to reverse out of the tight spot. And Izzy tried to stay grounded to reality as her friends screamed for Pope to get them the hell out of there, but she couldn't. Her head was spinning, and she couldn't stop thinking about death, her mother's death in particular.

Izzy did not want to die like her mother. She had already broken that chain by ceasing her stupid ritual of speeding through red lights. That was behind her now, and there was no way she was going to die in a car because she was running from the cops. If that happened . . . well . . . Izzy didn't know what she'd do. Of course, she'd be dead. But the whole situation would just be so surreal. It would be like the universe was laughing in her face, proving to her that signs and all that bullshit didn't matter. It would mean Izzy Windsor would die exactly like her mother and become her. It would mean she never even had a choice in her own life.

And, fuck, all that made her so fucking scared. Because here was the deal: Izzy Windsor did not want to fucking die. She didn't. Holy shit, she didn't. She wanted to live. She hoped she would.

She tried to hold onto that hope as she braced herself against the seat while Pope raced through the streets and swung onto a backroad. He sped down the road, swerving the car as he tried to dodge a few mailboxes, but he miscalculated and ended up blowing right through them. He only laughed in response.

"What the fuck?" Izzy finally found her voice. "Stop the goddamn car, Pope!" She held onto her hope that the Heyward boy would stop the car, and she wouldn't die in this human death trap. She clung onto the hope that history wouldn't repeat itself; that Izzy Windsor was not her mother, and she wouldn't die like her either.

But Pope didn't listen. "Can't!" he hollered, still laughing. "I'm livin' my best life now."

"My mom will kill me," Kiara groaned as she stabled herself against the dashboard.

As the Heyward boy continued to speed down the road, JJ took one look at his girlfriend, and it was like he knew. He tightened his grip around Izzy's waist and reached out with his other hand to pound on the back of Pope's headrest. "I should be the last one to say this, but you are not okay to drive. Stop!" he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the air.

That time Pope did listen. The Heyward boy slammed his foot on the brakes, causing the car to skid to a halt on the dirt road. The impact made the teens shift in their seats, but they caught themselves before they fell out of their seats. Then, they all breathed sighs of relief and took a few seconds to recuperate. Izzy, in particular, felt herself melt back into reality. She found solace in the fact that she was not her mother, and she certainly wasn't going to die like her if she had anything to do about it.

Then, when things seemed to be calm enough, Pope glanced over his shoulder and trained his eyes on John B. "John B, get out," he said.

"He's right," JJ agreed with a nod of his head. "We'll draw the cops, you run."

"Shit," was all John B could manage.

"I'll get the rig, and I'll meet you in the dump tomorrow, okay?" JJ sputtered out in a panicked voice. He knew if they stayed out there for too long, the cops would catch up to them, and John B would be screwed. "Three o'clock, okay?"

John B rapidly nodded his head. "Yeah," he breathed out as he swung open the door and planted his feet on the ground. Then, he slammed the door behind him and took off.

"Three tomorrow at the dump!" JJ called out after him, watching as the Routledge boy disappeared down the road. He then turned back to face the rest of the group and sent Pope a head nod, gesturing for him to drive. "Come on, go!"

And that was all it took before Pope slammed his foot down on the accelerator and sped down the road. But Izzy didn't feel any calmer. Her nerves were in overdrive, and she wondered what bitter joke the universe was going to throw in their faces now. She knew, no matter what, it couldn't be good.

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Reality felt as though it was shifting as JJ Maybank sat in the backseat of the SUV and smoked the joint pinched between his fingers. Time didn't feel linear. There was no beginning or end to the day; he was just there . . . in the now. It was exactly the way he liked it. And, truth be told, he didn't know how much time had passed since John B hopped out of the car and took off to find a place to hide from the police. He didn't even know if it was the next day or whatever. He just knew it was dark outside now, and he was trying not to care about any other details. He just focused on the joint in hand and drummed his fingers along to the beat of the song playing on the radio as Pope Heyward aimlessly drove the car down some backroads.

The darkness of the night peeked through the windows of the car, but JJ didn't really see it that way. He knew it was the night, but as they passed by house after house, he only saw the world in color. The greens of the trees seemed brighter . . . almost louder, and blurry in his peripheral vision. He figured the weed was doing its job, which only settled his nerves more. Plus, he wasn't so worried about what would become of his friend, John B, anymore since he began smoking. So, yeah, the weed was definitely working. And, thank fuck for that, honestly.

The thing was . . . JJ Maybank did not want to be tormented with the uncertainty of the future and what would become of his friend this late at night. He couldn't deal with that, so he didn't . . . obviously. Plus (and don't roll your eyes at him just yet), weed was like his favorite thing next to other obvious things.

But, whatever, JJ stared outside, his eyes watching his surroundings and then he caught sight of a beat-up car and he began to laugh. He remembered how earlier Pope had smashed into the rear-end of another car while trying to escape the cops, and for some reason, he found that extremely hilarious. "Pope, you clocked that car, man," he remarked, still laughing. "Like, that was so bad!"

From the driver's seat, Pope glanced over his shoulder. "I'm just glad I'm not driving now," he laughed as he smoked a joint with one hand and steered with the other.

JJ laughed harder at that.

But from the seat beside him, Izzy only rolled her eyes. "You two are, like, so fucking dumb," she groaned.

JJ snorted. "Sorry, mom."

"JJ Maybank, you are so close—" Izzy shoved a finger at him— "to getting kicked out of the car."

Still amused, JJ raised his hands up in surrender. "I'm so scared," he mocked, and then, he laughed again. He couldn't help it. He found it amusing when she glared at him like that.

From the passenger's seat, Kiara released a groan. "Pull over!" she snapped at Pope.

Time didn't feel linear, so JJ wasn't the most reliable person to word this correctly. Honestly, he didn't even realize Pope was skidding to a halt on the side of the road until the car abruptly stopped, and the Maybank boy had to put his arm out in front of him to prevent himself from falling over. He then watched as Kiara stormed out of the car.

"JJ, it's not funny," Kiara spat as she slammed the passenger's side door shut. "He shouldn't be driving."

JJ bit his lip. "Mama's mad."

The rest of the group ignored his comment as Kiara quickly walked around to the other side while Pope slid over the seats and hopped into the passenger seat. Then, with a huff, Kiara slid into the driver's seat and began to drive down the road toward the destination in her mind.

Once on the road again, JJ piped up, "Where are we going?"

"The last place they're gonna' look," Kiara mumbled, solemnly. "To Sarah."

"What if Ward sees and calls the cops?" Pope questioned

"Well, John B's not with us, so it's not like they can do much," Izzy answered, her voice sharp and quiet. "Plus, we need Sarah. Without her, everything goes to shit. It's not like we have the ferry as an option anymore anyways."

Then everything was silent again, and JJ's mind began to wander. He didn't want to think about what would happen if the police did by chance catch John B. It would be hell, he supposed. So, to numb his thoughts, he took another hit from the joint pinched between his fingers. He was trying to avoid his problems, and it was working. And he knew it was working because one second he was staring out the window, then the next he was turning his head to glance at Izzy Windsor, who was sitting silently beside him, and it was almost as if she was glowing.

He knew how it sounded. JJ Maybank is like every other hormone-driven teenage boy. And, okay, maybe some of that was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. Because he liked Izzy, like, actually liked her. He liked it when she went on about the stars (which he didn't really understand, but whatever), and he liked how she could talk about music and art for hours. He just liked her. That was what made it different.

The thing was: he wasn't good at relationships. He had never actually been in a real one before, and maybe that scared him a bit because he had this whole thing about ruining everything he touched. And he didn't want to ruin her. So, maybe he felt a little helpless when it came to Izzy Windsor, but he was trying . . . for her.

And, sure, maybe, he felt a little helpless because he had spent the majority of his high school career trying to get in every girl's pants, but he had a reason. He was trying to get over her. Because when they stopped being friends in the eighth grade, he kind of felt like complete shit. It was like he had to deal with this hole inside of him that she had left when she walked out of his life. And he tried to fill that hole with other girls who really didn't give a shit about him, but that didn't bother him . . . it wasn't like he cared to remember their names either.

And the whole 'sleeping with other girls' thing did work for a while . . . until that summer, because the truth was that JJ Maybank never stopped caring for Izzy Windsor.

A part of him thought he just felt bad for her, because of her mom dying and her dad being an obvious dick. He tried to make himself believe he only looked out for her because he knew no one ever really had, and that just made him feel bad.

When he'd catch sight of her convertible waiting before the traffic lights, beckoning for them to turn red, he always tried to reach her. He just didn't want her to fucking die. He also claimed that he only helped Kiara clean those lockers at the Academy because he and Izzy used to be friends and he had a reputation for being as loyal as a dog. He wanted to believe that was the only reason, but he knew now that was total bullshit. And he even watched her website a couple of times before when they weren't on the best of terms. And he knew that sounded a bit weird. Trust him . . . he didn't really want to admit that he watched Izzy Windsor's knockoff youtube videos to anyone either because he felt like a fucking groupie or some shit.

But, anyway, he just checked in every once in a while to make sure she was doing all right (since he knew the girl was too stubborn to admit she needed help). And, okay, maybe he kept watching the videos because he actually liked to hear what she said about the meaning behind whatever Blondie song she was obsessed with that week. (Sometimes he even added some of her songs to his playlists, because, yeah, sue him, he thought she had good music taste.)

Whatever, the point was: JJ knew he had always cared about Izzy even when he had tried to tell himself that he didn't. And it wasn't like he held her on a fucking pedestal, because trust him, he knew she was not perfect. He knew she hadn't been the . . . nicest to him over the years. She had honestly been a literal bitch to him and his friends. She was crass and she could be selfish and tone-deaf at the worst times and sometimes she was just plain cynical. But that was just it. She wasn't perfect. She was human. Besides, he didn't want her to be perfect. She wasn't some manic pixie dream girl and he wasn't some hopeless boy. They were just two people who just so happened to find solace in each other in this fucked up world.

          And, yeah, okay, he knew his life would have been fine even if Izzy didn't come back into it. He was perfectly fine just living life high as fuck and surfing every other day . . . but now that she was there and he knew she felt the same, it made life just a bit better. She always had a way of making him feel better, and maybe that was what counted—to live a life full of people who made it worth it.

Those thoughts filtered through his clouded mind as he stared at the side of her face, studying the slope of her nose and the curve of her lips. And then, almost as if she could feel his eyes on her, she turned to meet his gaze, and all he saw was green. Her eyes were green, and for a second, he thought maybe green might have been his favorite color. It was stupid, and he felt stupid for even thinking it, but he couldn't help it. Because this was Izzy Windsor, the girl he had maybe always had a small crush on, and she was his girlfriend now, and she was staring at him with those green eyes, and all he could think was 'fuck'.

Maybe it was the drugs or whatever, but JJ completely forgot about whatever the fuck was happening in the real world as she stared at him like that. And he got lost in that feeling as he leaned forward and kissed her. He kissed her like he was trying to drink up as much of her as he could before he pulled away.

Izzy playfully shoved his chest. "What's with you, Jess?" she asked as she narrowed her eyes at him.

JJ only winked. "Just weed, baby. It don't hurt anyone," he said as he brought the joint up to his lips and inhaled. He breathed out the smoke a second later. But it wasn't just weed. He used to think he could never care for someone like that. He didn't think he was capable of any of it. Truly, he thought he was meant to live life alone and he was fine with that; he was happy with that. Being surrounded by his friends was enough for him. His life (not all but most parts of it) was enough for him . . . but then he met her and it was like he finally understood what the hype was about. 

Izzy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's, like, scrambling your brain."

The Maybank boy watched as his girlfriend released a sigh and sunk back into her seat. Her raised brow and the small scowl stretched across her face were enough to amuse him as he continued to stare at her. And for a second, and only a second, he thought, maybe mom would have liked Izzy Windsor, too.

What seemed like a few more minutes passed before they arrived just outside the Cameron estate. Kiara pulled the car over to the side and turned off the engine, parking beside the wall surrounding the estate. Then, she turned to glance at her friends, and released a sigh. "Okay, here's the plan," she began with a scowl on her face. "Pope's gonna' come with me because JJ's too stoned, and you, Iz—" she pointed to the Windsor girl— "are going to stay here because I don't trust JJ to be left alone or to be left in the company of someone—" she glared at Pope— "who is not fuckin' reliable."

JJ only laughed. "Snarky, Kie," he teased. "Be careful. Pope might get too excited." At this point, he didn't really know what he was saying anymore, and he didn't care.

But Kiara didn't seem too fazed by his words. She only rolled her eyes at him and turned to Pope. "Are you up for this?" she questioned, sternly.

Pope vigorously nodded. "Perfectly focused."

At that, Kiara only sighed. "Okay, let's go." Then, she grabbed a flashlight and clicked it on before she opened the driver's door and hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind her with Pope quickly following after.

"You sure this is a good idea?" JJ called out to them through the rolled-down window.

Kiara nodded. "She's the only one who can clear John B," she said as she reached the wall. She pulled herself over the wall and hopped down on the other side, disappearing from view. Pope, soon followed after her, and then they were both gone.

JJ turned away from the window and relaxed into his seat. "Last place they'll look because of how stupid it is," he muttered under his breath before he took another hit from the joint pinched between his fingers. He breathed out the smoke a second later. He couldn't believe this was his reality right now. "I can't believe this is real." He shook his head at his thoughts, then turned to glance at Izzy. "I think I'm trippin'. Am I trippin', Iz?"

Izzy only responded by grabbing the joint from him and aggressively throwing it out the window. She then sunk back into her seat with her arms crossed over her chest.

And all JJ could do was blink at her. "Hey—"

"You've had enough," she spat.

JJ cleared his throat. "All right," he mumbled as he leaned his head back against the headrest and basked in the silence.

The truth was: he knew why Izzy was pissed. He knew she wasn't the biggest fan of drugs and shit after what happened to her mom, and in general, all the drug abuse shit Izzy had been through. He got it. He just liked smoking weed. But he had a feeling this wasn't about him going a little too hard on the rolled-up joints he had stashed in his backpack. And he knew he should have been just as worried as her. She was freaking out over the fact that they had landed themselves in some deep shit, and the only way out of it was either to get Sarah to vouch for John B or else the Routledge boy would have to flee town. And truth be told, JJ didn't know what he'd do if the latter happened. He knew that was the more likely option, but that scared him to come to terms with.

Because here was the thing: John B Routledge had been JJ's best friend since they were kids, and if he lost him after everything else he had to put up with . . . well . . . he didn't know what he'd do. That was the real reason he would much rather get high and not think about it . . . because thinking about it and accepting it made it real, and he didn't want that to be his reality.

The sound of a car door being shut snapped him out of his daze, and he sat up, looking around for the source. He blinked once before he caught sight of Izzy walking around the car and heading toward the wall. His eyes widened and he swung his door open before he stumbled out and reached the girl. "Where are you going?" he asked the blonde girl as he reached out and gently wrapped a hand around her arm, stopping her.

Izzy turned to him and shrugged. "Inside."

JJ furrowed his brows. He felt a bit more sober now. "What do you mean inside?" he questioned. He didn't want to admit it, but the thought of Izzy entering a house full of murderers wasn't easing his nerves.

But Izzy didn't seem to notice that. "Look, I'm the only one who can get inside without it causing anyone to freak out," she explained. "As far as they know, I'm not friends with you guys. Rose only knows about what happened at Midsummers. They don't know I'm in this. So if I sneak around back and head to the front door and maybe . . . I don't know . . . maybe say I'm looking for Rafe, then I can see why Sarah's not answering her texts. I can find a way to get her out so she can vouch for John B."

JJ shook his head. "And what if they know more? What if they do know you're with us?" he asked. "And what about Sarah? What if she's not on our side?" He wasn't trying to sound controlling or whatever, because fuck people like that; he just didn't want Izzy getting fucking murdered, okay? Because he couldn't lose her.

"Then I'm screwed," was all Izzy could come up with. (Which, like, you know, so reassuring, right?) Then she released a sigh and shrugged. "But I'm willing to take that chance." She flicked her eyes up to meet his. "John B needs Sarah's word to clear him. So I'm going."

"Iz," JJ began, "Ward's a murderer . . . and so is Rafe. You don't know what Rafe'll do." And it was true. Rafe was a loose cannon. Trust him . . . JJ knew what a crazy motherfucker looked like.

But Izzy only offered him a soft, sad smile. It was the same smile she always used to give him. And then she stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She brought a hand up to rest at his neck while her thumb grazed his jaw in a comforting manner. "Remember when you said I was like coming up for fresh air?" she questioned; her voice was soft like a kiss on the cheek. "Like I saved you?"

And JJ did remember. Honestly, he felt kind of stupid now that it was a different day, and he had time to actually thinking about his words. It was just so not him, and he wondered if Izzy thought he sounded stupid, too. So he tried to play it off. "Yeah, but what does that—" he began.

Izzy interrupted him before he could finish. "It's the other way around . . . you know? Look, you're always saving me. So, please, let me find a way to save you. Let me find a way to save all of you guys from . . . this," she pleaded in an almost silent whisper. "Let me make up for all the shitty things I've done to all of you over the years. Let me make it right and get John B's name cleared."

All JJ could do was stare at her because, like . . . fuck. She made him feel. And sometimes he felt stupid for admitting that, because it was stupid and it sounded stupid. It sounded like someone else had possessed his body and was thinking for him, but he wasn't lying. Izzy Windsor just had a way of knocking down all his walls and getting to the parts of him he tried to hide. He just felt comfortable with her.

For a second as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, he let his mind wander. He let himself think how the hell he got here; how he let her make him so vulnerable. Maybe it started when they were kids, and she asked him if he wanted to come inside and hang out with her while his father worked on shit at the Windsor estate. Or maybe it was when she first kissed him, and in his thirteen-year-old brain, he thought he was going to marry her. Or maybe—

And then it clicked.

After Julia Windsor died, Izzy had made a habit of driving through red traffic lights every so often (even before getting her license). Sometimes JJ would see it happen; other times he wouldn't, but he knew it had become a habit of hers. And last year, about a week after Izzy's mom died, JJ was walking home from The Wreck and he crossed the street. But as soon as his foot touched the asphalt of the road, a Mercury Comet convertible screeched to a stop just a few inches from him. That was when he looked up and saw the girl he used to know sitting behind the wheel, staring back at him with those green eyes. Tears were streaming down her face, and she looked as if she might shatter into pieces, but she didn't stay long enough for him to ask what had happened. She only sped off, leaving him to watch the Comet disappear into the distance.

It was the Comet, JJ decided right then.

Almost as if Izzy Windsor's Mercury Comet convertible was like a shooting star, JJ had watched her speed off into the night, wishing he could know all the things that plagued her mind. That was when he realized why the random hook-ups had never worked out for him. It was because of her. And maybe if JJ were a little more poetic and thought people were like stars like his girlfriend did, then perhaps he'd compare the girl's car to an actual comet in the night sky. Maybe then he'd realize when he saw the comet in the darkness of the night, he felt as though his life had meaning . . . like, he could truly make something of himself instead of following in his father's footsteps. That's what she made him realize--that life could be more than empty bottles of booze and broken promises.

It was a comet. And it would always come back. Just like how Izzy kept showing up to that same road at the same time JJ would be walking out of The Wreck, the comet would always come back. Izzy's Mercury Comet, and Izzy in general, had always been a constant in his life. That would never change. She always came back. They would always find a way back to each other.

         Izzy Windsor's like a comet, JJ decided in his half-stoned mind.

          The comet wasn't just some metaphorical bullshit; it meant something to him. And sure, maybe, it was just a comet, but it had a way of lighting up the whole night sky and making everything . . . brighter.

And when JJ blinked himself back to reality, he glanced down at Izzy, and it was almost as if she was glowing again. That was when he was almost positive the drugs might have been fucking with his brain. But then . . . he thought back to her words, let me find a way to save you, and he nodded, because he knew they'd find a way back to each other. They always did.

"Okay, fine," JJ muttered after another second passed. "But for the record, this is a shit plan."

Izzy shrugged. "It's the only one we've got," she whispered. She tangled a hand in the exposed strands of his blond hair and curled them behind his ear. Then, she sighed and locked eyes with him. "You wanna' know something, J?"

JJ blinked. "What?"

A smile lifted onto Izzy's face. "When you fixed my car, you fixed my heart," she whispered, softly. "So, this, is like the least I can do."

Fuck, JJ thought as he pulled her closer to him and rested his chin on top of her head. "You're gonna' be the death of me," he mumbled before he kissed her hair.

Izzy nodded against his chest before she pulled away and took a step back. "Just give me a little time, okay?" she told him as she began to make her way toward the wall. "But if I don't come out in ten minutes or before Kie and Pope come back . . . then leave. It's better if just one of us gets caught. Besides, I'm pretty sure my dad will bail me out. God knows he'd peel over and die if it got out that Izzy Windsor got arrested."

"Shit, fine," JJ groaned as he put a hand on top of his head. "But if we get separated, meet us at The Wreck."

"Got it," Izzy affirmed. She then turned around and began to pull herself up over the wall.

"Hey, yo, Princess?" JJ called out to her before she could plant her feet on the other side of the wall.

Izzy glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Don't die," was all JJ said. It was all he could say.

And it was enough to make Izzy smile. "I won't, Seaweed Brain."

With that, the Windsor girl hopped down off the wall, and then she was gone, leaving JJ alone in the darkness. And as he stood alone, he couldn't believe that seeing the girl sitting in her Mercury Comet with tears staining her cheeks was the reason he realized he had always cared for Izzy Windsor. And maybe if JJ were more poetic, then he would agree that the convertible was similar to an actual comet in the night sky. Perhaps then he'd admit that when he saw the comet everything made sense. Because, really, the boy saw the comet, and he felt as though he could prove the world wrong and make his life have a meaning beyond what he was expected to become. Her hope gave him hope. He'd watched her pick herself up from tragedy and become someone . . . different, someone better. He thought maybe he could do the same. And maybe then he could finally be JJ Maybank, the boy with a future unlike those who came before him. He was going to break the cycle. JJ Maybank was not his father, and he knew that now. Now, he only wanted hope.

a/n: this was one of my favorite chapters solely because we got to see jj's pov. i know in this fic he's a bit softer than in the show, but the way i see it is that if jj actually had a love interest in a show that he wanted to pursue a relationship with rather than just a hook up, then he'd act softer,,, ya know??? that's the way i see it though.

also yes the comet reference is a callback to oth and lucas's book that was basically about peyton bc i couldn't help myself. if it makes no sense the oops 😃

thanks for reading!