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.*･｡. EFF IT! .*･｡.
————THE LUCKY COMPASS
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013.
SONNY THE SAVIOUR.
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Sonny ran the whole way to John B's house.

Back in school, her gym coach tried to persuade her to get into track. Sonny had all but laughed in her face, saying that she would rather eat rocks.

  Now however, a small part of her wished she had taken her up on the offer. Because while Sonny had always been quick, enough that she had been told she was fit for the team, there was no doubt she would've been even quicker had she trained. And then perhaps her desperate race across the island might not have worn the shit out of her.

   Just a thought.

   Had Sonny been thinking straight, she would've attempted to catch up to John B and JJ before they jumped in the camper and left, but she hadn't. Instead, she made a mad dash in one direction while they went in another.

   It wasn't like they would wait for her, anyway.

   They had no idea she was there— but they would, because Sonny was going to find out whatever the fuck it was that the Pogues found in Scooter Grubs' boat and why two men had gone to Ms Lana's home looking for it. Why they had torn it apart, piece by piece.

Sonny didn't even help her.

She just ran. Dove out the window and made a break for it when she had the chance to.

   Sure, Ms Lana had told her to, but she still should've gone inside and made sure she was okay. But Sonny was scared so she didn't fight instruction. She bolted.

   For the first time in a years, Sonny Penbrook was scared.

   It was weird. She had never been a scared kid. She never screamed in the night or cried about monsters in her closet, and she never asked her dad to get a spider out of her room. Since she was little, Sonny was daring and she was brave. She always had been. Maybe being a foster child did that to you after living with new families in new places, navigating grief for a mother who died before she had a chance to meet her. Perhaps, as a child, Sonny had already seen it all; life didn't scare her, anymore.

   Maybe Sonny was numb.

It was hard to tell — to know if she was numb or if feeling anything was what she was really afraid of.

   But as she ran for her life across the Cut, Sonny knew that she was scared. Terrified, even.

    "Sonny?"

   She ignored whoever had called out to her, she didn't have time to talk. Nor to comprehend the odd looks that people on the Cut sent her, probably wondering why the Penbrook's kid was running through the south side, looking like she had just stared death in the face.

   What would she tell anyone, anyway? The truth?

   Hell no! In what world?

   Ms Lana may not have been talking to Sonny when she told the boys that no one could find out about what they'd found, but she assumed that it applied to her just as well. She didn't plan on telling anyone about....

   Well, Sonny didn't even know what.

It had to be more than money or drugs. John B said that it was his father's. And besides, drug dealers weren't new to her; Sonny knew the local drugs dealers, she knew drowning some guy wasn't their style, nor trashing his home after the fact. It wasn't how Barry worked — he usually turned up in person, and it was usually alone. No duos, no pairs.

   Plus Sonny knew Barry's voice. Neither of those guys were Barry. They weren't the voices of anyone she knew. Maybe it was two randoms from the mainland?

   But coming all this way after Agatha sounded like a whole bunch of effort for drugs and money. What the heck was this thing? Why was it so valuable? What did John B's dad have?

   Sonny didn't understand.

   If it was that valuable, they wouldn't stop searching for it. They would be onto the Pogues, next. This thing was in the hands of John B, JJ, Pope and Kiara and Sonny had a really bad feeling that, if it truly belonged to John B's father, then they wouldn't just hand it over.

   Not willingly.

   And so, for that exact reason, Sonny Penbrook planned on finding those Pogues before they did.

And she had an advantage — she hoped.

Sonny didn't know the Pogues well, but it was enough for her to be a step ahead — possibly, at least. That meant that she could find them, warn them and perhaps even figure out what the fuck was going on.

   She had a good idea where they would be too. The chateau, that was what JJ and Pope had called it. It was a small shack near the marsh, where John B once lived with his father and his uncle (while both had been present, at least). Now it was home to the Pogues. Sonny had only seen it twice: once in an attempt to drag Topper away from starting a fight with Rafe and Kelce after infiltrating Pogue territory, and then another time when they had TP'd his house with toilet paper — silly, childish and dumb but Sonny admittedly hadn't stopped that one. Not that she would tell them that.

   Sonny was glad her memory was good enough for her to remember the way. The Outer Banks were little and easy to navigate for locals. The Outer Banks were her home and you never forgot your home. It never came so in handy until now, when she needed it.

    "Fuck," she said in a tired breath.

Her eyes scanned the area.

   John B's camper van was parked by the time she arrived, albeit pretty haphazardly, but there was a black truck close beside it. Sonny's stomach churned.

   As far as she knew, Kiara was the only other Pogue able to drive. Or maybe they just liked John B's shitty camper. Either way, Sonny had only ever seen JJ on a bike, Pope on his dad's boat, and Kiara being a total passenger princess even with a licence. Regardless, Sonny had never seen her drive around in that black truck.

So whose car was it?

   Sonny felt her stomach sink.

   "Routledge!"

   The loud bang made her jump. She quickly dropped to the ground, ducking behind the camper.

   Were those assbags already here?! How did they know the right place to find them?

   Sonny didn't have time to question it.

   Because, if they were the same men, then they had just let themselves in, ready to storm the place. And judging by the camper she hid behind, it was while the Pogues were still inside and likely with no way out.

    "Routledge! C'mon out, now!"

   Definitely the same men, Sonny confirmed. She slowly peered around the side of the camper van and eyed the porch. She spotted a rucksack. JJ's from the kegger.

   Definitely still home. Fuck.

    "Sack the place!"

   With a sharp intake of breath, the girl hauled herself to her feet and scrambled over to the chateau. Perhaps a better idea would've been to run away, but she couldn't. Not if the Pogues were still in there.

   Sonny had already made a mistake of leaving Ms Lana in the time she was most defenceless. She wouldn't be making it again — even when she didn't owe the Pogues shit, since they were the ones digging around. Still, there was something that wouldn't let her leave, something that made her stick around and help when they needed it. Maybe because she knew that, if those men killed the Pogues, she wouldn't be able to stand the guilt. She couldn't live with it.

Ugh.

Why the sudden conscience?

   Sonny crawled around to the side of the chateau, cringing every time something crashed from inside. She ducked under each window, not caring about the new scratches all over her knees, until she reached a part of his house that overlooked a chicken coop. John Booker had a rooster?

She nearly rolled her eyes.

   It was quieter on this side and Sonny risked moving away from the wall — especially when she heard a familiar voice.

    "I'm trying! I'm going as fast as I can!"

   JJ Maybank's voice was new bliss.

    "Hurry!" Kiara.

"Shut up!"

   Sonny rushed to the window their voices came from. Her sneakers hit the ground, scuffing as she skidded to a halt just before the right one. It wasn't so high up; Sonny's head and shoulders would be just visible from their side.

   It didn't take long to spot her.

    "Oh my god—" Kiara Carerra was the first. "Holy fuck!" She nudged the blonde boy by her side while he tried to cut the window paint with scissors. "Look, JJ!"

   He cursed, smacking her off away. Couldn't she see he was busy getting them out of there?

    "JJ!" She tried again.

    "What, Kie?!" He huffed. Nonetheless, he glanced at her, and then the window.

   Thank the lord he had. Sonny fucking Penbrook.

    "Am I hallucinating—" Pope spoke up from where he and John B were blocking the door, voice low and shaky, but there was relief there, relief each of them felt. "—or is Sonny here to save our asses, again?"

John B nodded.

    "No— I see her too, man."

   Kiara rolled her eyes.

   She yanked at the window again, panic rising and swelling deep in her chest. "It still won't budge!"

   From the other side of the window, Sonny watched it with wide eyes. She cursed under her breath and glanced around, gnawing on her lower lip. Her eyes fell back on Kiara's, and Sonny made a futile effort to at least try and seem reassuring. A waste, really. It didn't help so much. Sonny had never been reassuring. It was new to her. That said, she could tell Kiara needed someone to try; the least that she could do was try her best and get them out of there.

    "Okay..." she tried to think for a second, "Okay..."

   Think, Sonny! Think!

   When she squinted hard enough, she could just about see a pair of wire cutters near the chicken coop. Not exactly ideal, but it would work well enough. There wasn't really time to be fussy, right now.

Her eyes narrowed, determined.

   Sonny twirled back and tapped on the glass, regaining JJ's attention. He had gone back to feverishly stabbing his set of scissors into the thick paint that sealed the window shut, his hair flopping into his eyes.

"Don't stop that!" Sonny told him.

    "Wasn't planning on it, princess!" He huffed.

    "Did Sonny just leave?" Pope whimpered, "She left! Shit! We're all totally dead!"

   Ignoring the pleas, Sonny scampered across the garden, keeping her body low. In record time, she snatched the wire cutters and darted back. There wasn't much time for her to breathe in the chaos of it all. Really, she couldn't remember breathing since she had been locked in the bathroom at Ms Lana's house; did she even need air anymore?

Had she forgotten how?

   Upon making it back to the window and not being caught, she yanked the wire cutters open as far as the hinge would let them go. Holding them in her hand felt wrong with the blade against her palm, but Sonny ignored it — nothing about this situation felt right, nothing about the last three days felt right, and she figured nothing would get close to feeling right again unless the Pogues made it out of that chateau unscathed. So, she promptly ignored the way it jammed into the skin on her palm and thrust the blade into the paint, wedging it between the window sill and its frame.

With all her strength, all the muscles from her hand to her bicep working their hardest, Sonny took in a big breath and braved herself, then dragged the blade along the line. Once, twice, three rimes — she started to hack away at it, bringing the white paint to chip and flake.

   It was harder than she expected it to be — not that she had expected much — but Sonny didn't stop. Not even when the blade nicked her index finger.

    "That's it, Kook!" JJ praised under his breath.

He continued cutting the paint from his side, occasionally glancing up at her. JJ panted, arms tired, running his tongue over his lip. He tasted the salty tang from the beads of sweat on his Cupid's bow.

"We're nearly there—"

    "Sh—!" John B pulled a finger to his lips.

The group froze still. Even Sonny stopped to look at the door in a panic, watching quietly.

   The doorknob rattled.

    "Hey! You better not be in there!"

   Sonny's hands started to shake. She flinched when one man started to kick the door in, the force jolting Pope and John B around uncomfortably. They could hardly keep it shut. The duo started to hiss quiet things to each other, and then Pope started to pray they would live to tell this tale.

   Sonny couldn't hear it. Everything had gone quiet. Silent. She could see Pope's lips moving but she couldn't hear what he was saying. For Sonny, it was peaceful.

But, from beside JJ, had Kiara started to panic.

She breathed in and out heavily, pacing back and forth, a glossy sheen over her eyes. JJ pursed his lips, stare darting to Sonny — who, while not visibly shaken, lacked any look on her face. She looked empty.

JJ Maybank never thought the day would come where he would witness Sonny Penbrook crack from her cool persona. Where she would look so... not there. But apparently the day was now and so he had no choice but to face it— and had JJ not snapped his fingers in her face from his side of the glass, Sonny wouldn't have been able to get herself together. That much she was certain of.

   The silence around her vanished.

    "Hey— hey!" JJ hissed, "Sonny! Look at me!"

   That caught her attention; he had yet to call her Sonny.

   Her eyes flickered over to him, finally, no longer focused on the door and instead on the blonde.

    "Don't look over there, look at me—" he coaxed her out of her stillness. Kiara was hyperventilating beside him, and that became Sonny's incentive to sober up; this wasn't the time for her to seize up. To switch off. She had to pull it together. She had no other choice.

Pull it together, Sonny!

When she looked at JJ, she realised he was in a frenzy. His hands were working overtime as he attempted to cut away at the paint while the door cracked.

"I really need you to help me out here!" He said.

   She blinked.

    "Sonny!"

Pull it together, Sonny!

   Just about snapping out of it, Sonny shook her head and pulled herself from her remaining daze. No longer still, her face steeled, she tightened her shaky grip on the wire cutters and took the blade back to the paint, slicing away at it even faster than before.

   If JJ said anything else to her, she didn't hear.

She focused on her movement of her hand, the ringing in her ears and the thump of her heart.

Somewhere along the lines, John B and Pope had no other choice but to abandon their stance against the door, and tried to help pry the window open on either side of JJ. With their help, JJ and Sonny managed to slowly slide the glass up with struggled grip, making room for the Pogues to slip out — just as a bullet broke the lock.

   Everything was a blur.

   Sonny couldn't process the next five minutes. One minute she was ducking and covering her head, and the next JJ had gripped her hand. Like in the motel room, the blonde pulled her away from the window and to the chicken coop, making sure she crawled in ahead of him, palm protecting her head from the old, wooden entry way.

Pieces of straw stuck to her palms and her knees. It made the thin scrapes sting, but Sonny was too distracted to worry about it right now.

   She scuttled her way to end of the coop, back against the wall and shoulders stiff. She kinda wished she'd never made fun of John B's rooster. Actually if they all made it out alive, maybe she would tell him she was wrong about it. One day.

   Unless she died, that is.

JJ followed, then everyone else, narrowly avoiding the old rooster. As their luck would go, however, the stupid chicken started to cluck and caw at them. Loudly.

"Do something, Pope!" JJ seethed, "Shut him up!"

Pope glared.

    "What do you want me to do?"

"It's a fucking rooster, Heyward!" Sonny spat; her eyes were now wide, starting to burn, and she was desperately trying to blink the moisture away as it built up. She threw him a nasty look, "It can't be that hard!"

"Pet it, or something! Or talk to it—!" Kiara near sobbed, voice cracking, hands shaky. "I dunno!"

It surprised Sonny, a bit. She never took Kiara as a cryer. Unlike a lot of people, she had a backbone. A bite. Not that Sonny was passing judgements in a time like this — but she hadn't expected it all the same. It seemed bizarre for a brief second. She didn't know what to do.

Over the sound of the rooster cawing at them, a car trunk slammed shut, and everyones heads snapped to look at John B. He was near the door, the only one properly positioned to peer through the tiny cracks in the wiring, keeping an eye on what was going on outside.

   His body tensed.

   Sonny felt her heart sink.

   Fuck.

She was shaking again. Like in the bathroom at the Grubs house. Instead of keeping herself composed, buttoned at the seams, Sonny was shaking and twitching.

John B suddenly scrambled away from his viewpoint. His movements created a chain reaction, the teenagers pressing themselves closer to the walls like that would somehow hide them if they were caught.

"Pope!" JJ grunted as the rooster flapped around.

"You do something!"

   Kiara cried, "Make it stop!"

    "Somebody just do something—!"

As it flapped above his head, JJ's hand shout out to grab at the rooster and shove it to the ground.

Sonny gasped and tried to squirm away as he wrapped his fingers around its throat. She couldn't watch it. It was wrong. Even if it was going to get them caught, even if JJ was acting out in panic and for survival. He was just as scared as the rest of them, and frustrated, and impulsive, and Pope told him to do something, so he did. He hadn't meant to be so violent, he had simply run out of options.

He kept the rooster pinned.

Footsteps approached and the closer they grew, the tighter JJ's hands squeezed. Eventually JJ's hold got too tight. There was an eery crack that echoed.

Silence.

A shaky sob passed Kiara's lips, her hand smothering the sounds, and Sonny wasn't far behind. Her mouth wobbled.

Her attempts at fighting tears faltered. Her eyes flooded, itching at her tear ducts.

"Fuck..." she whispered hoarsely, screwing her eyes closed and throwing her head back against wooden wall. Her heart thrummed against her ribs.

Pull it together.

Sonny couldn't cry. She couldn't let her walls crumble, and she definitely couldn't cry in front of these people; the group of misfits she'd only really spoken to in the last few days. She couldn't afford a breakdown.

Sonny didn't ever cry. Not around her parents, not around Topper. Sonny Penbrook didn't cry in anybody's company. So no, she wasn't prepared to cry in front of a bunch of Pogues.

But in that moment, her bottom lip trembled and a single tear tumbled down her cheek.

C'mon, she gnawed on her lip.

   Pull yourself together.

Her body shuddered with the need to sob, though she kept her mouth firmly shut. Along with her mouth being clamped so were her eyes; Sonny didn't dare to open them for a single second. She wasn't sure she could. Maybe not seeing made it better, in a way. She couldn't look.

Not even when a hand took hers and squeezed it. A part of Sonny didn't want to know who it belonged to. So, she didn't open her eyes and look.

Minutes felt like hours until someone spoke.

"Ratter!" One of the men yelled, "What the hell are you doin'? Let's just fuckin' go!"

The teenagers remained quiet. Even when car doors shut and the engine faded into the distance, none of them said a word. At that point, they were all shaking — a mix of pure adrenaline and fear rushing through their veins, leaving the group twitchy and at loss for words. No one said a thing. No one knew if they could.

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