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

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.*･｡. EFF IT! .*･｡.
————MIDSUMMERS
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

028.
BACK IN THE G-GAME.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
   "Sonny."

She squinted at him.

"Victor."

He grimaced. He regretted having told her to call him by that name back on the marsh.

Sonny could tell. It satisfied her a lot and she found herself smiling wryly as she tilted her head to the side, just watching him squirm under her gaze. Like a fish on dry land. Or like a cop trying not to be hostile to a Kook.

Must've been hard.

   Especially since he knew she was now causing trouble with the Pogues. Even with all the money in her pocket, the name she wore like a badge, she was just another delinquent to the deputy now. He looked at her differently. She could see it, all that disapproval in his eyes, all clear as day. Sonny wasn't too surprised that he was scowling. It didn't bother her, not like it probably should've done.

   Sonny didn't want to be liked by Shoupe, nor did she really need to be. But, still, she had to admit — it was much easier to dance around the cops when they were on your side. It would be harder now. Shoupe didn't see her as that spoilt little rich kid anymore. The kind who could do no wrong, who couldn't get nicked for it even when they did.

It would prove a little trickier, now — especially when there was always the potential threat of DCS finding out if she was up to no good. But what could she do?

It was only going to get worse.

Worse than John B being MIA, Pope getting jumped twice in one week, Sonny being choked out by Rafe and JJ landing himself in jail. Call her a pessimist, but she just had a hunch.

   Day by day, shit just kept getting weirder.

   That said, it was probably wise to deal with current issues, rather than think up more.
  
"We gonna stand here all day?"

"Preferably not," Shoupe drawled, sending her a look from the other side of the desk. He sighed, "Didn't that old man of yours fill you in?"

    "Fill me in on what?" Sonny's eyes squinted as she tried to find her phone. It wasn't in her pocket. Must've dropped out of her bag when she left the house in a hurry, maybe still sat on the seat in her dad's study.

To be fair, Sonny had been in a rush. The whereabouts of her phone weren't as important as getting to the station and getting JJ off the hook.

Her dad had all but forced her out the door with a cheque in her hands, telling her he'd call the station and make them aware of the situation. While they wouldn't be able bail him out, seeing as JJ was a minor and could only be released to a guardian by law, they intended to pay off his fines — y'know, since Sonny owed him that much. Topper's mom had made it clear she wanted to press charges and JJ didn't have that sort of money, so it was only right they help him out. Not because they pitied him, not because Sonny felt guilty. But because, in the grand scheme of things, it was the right thing to do. And the only thing she could do.

"Then take him for a burger, or something." Ed had told her, "It's getting late, teenage boys like to eat."

   Restitution and a burger?

   Did he want her to buy him an estate too?

Something told Sonny that JJ would prefer that over some apology burger, but she didn't argue.

    "We've contacted the Thorntons about y'all paying off his restitution," Shoupe explained, resting his elbows against the desk. "Offer was declined."

   Sonny blinked.

    "Declined?"

    "Declined," he repeated.

   Her brows furrowed, "Who the heck declined it?"

    "They did," Shoupe informed, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Sonny simply stood there, glaring at him, the cheque slowly scrunching in her clenched fist. His glance flitted to it, then back to her face.

    "So they're a bank, now?"

Shoupe released a long sigh. "Listen..."

Sonny didn't listen. She just simmered angrily, her nostrils flared as she ignored whatever he was saying. They declined it?

How the fuck did that make sense?

   If the Thorntons just took their money, they'd be getting all the cash they wanted. It would be in their filthy hands before they even knew it; quicker than it would be if they waited on JJ to scrounge it up. They would have their $30k payout, and another boat on the way. Hell, they didn't even need it to get a new boat— they had that money in their wallets, let alone in the banks! But deep down, Sonny knew this wasn't about the money anymore. It wasn't about his boat. This was about the power they had over the OBX, keeping up appearances, and maintaining social divide.

   This was about the thrill of taking money from a kid who couldn't afford it. About pride. And if they accepted the cash from their wealthy neighbours, they wouldn't get that kick. A payout from the Penbrooks? That was humiliating— even if they were friends.

   Because what message would that send to the Cut? To the rest of the assholes in Figure 8?

   Of course they didn't take it.

"Can they even do that?" Sonny cut off whatever he was saying to her, exasperated from all the cogs spinning on the inside of her head. "Is that even legal?"

"They can do whatever they want," Shoupe said.

The look he sent her was enough to confirm all of Sonny's suspicions. They could do what they wanted because Topper and his mom were loaded, because his grandpa was a known judge, because anyone with good money could get that whole station wrapped around their finger.

   They didn't have to ask.

"And right now, they want JJ to pay off his restitution," he told her, "Not your daddy's money."

    "You know he can't do that," she said.

"I know that," he nodded, "So do they, but y'know what? They don't give a damn. I suggest you leave it at that, Sonny."

   Her eyes narrowed.

    "This is wrong," Sonny hissed.

"You're lucky they left you out the equation," Shoupe sent her a knowing look, "Coulda been you in that cell. And what would people say about that?"

   She gripped the desk, "You think I care, man?"

"I think you should."

   Teeth grit, Sonny made sure to give him a darker look. "Is anyone even coming to get him? Or are you gonna keep him in a cell all damn night?"

    "His father's on his way," Shoupe informed her, though it was stiff and rehearsed, like maybe he didn't think that was entirely true. Sonny raised one brow and leant in closer, like she was doing the interrogations here.

    "You don't sound so sure about that," she mused. He sent her a look that said it ain't none of your business and maybe that was right, it wasn't her business, but Sonny really didn't know anything about JJ's home life. Only that his dad had lost that job at the impound yard, something about his grubby hands. JJ clearly kept his family on the down low. Then again, she'd never asked him about it.

   Why would she? This was Sonny, after all.

    "His father's as much a liability as he is," Shoupe replied. He sounded vague.

   Sonny felt her face scrunch.

    "Can't you just let him leave?" She asked him.

    "Not by law."

    "That's rich," Sonny scoffed quietly.

   The man's face dropped and he inched closer, looking far more serious than before. "And what's that suppsed to mean, young lady?" He demanded.

She feigned coy, "You tell me."

"Right," Shoupe muttered, jaw locked. "Since you seem so keen to talk," he pointed at her neck and then signalled to his own face, "You wanna tell me what happened here? 'Cause I didn't think you were one for fights."

Sonny watched him, stare hard. She changed the topic, "I wanna talk to Peterkin."

"Oh yeah? On what grounds?"

The girl looked down at her feet then back up at him, her brows towards her hairline. Sonny stared at him like he was stupid, one of the dumbest people she'd ever met, and for a minute, it reminded him of John B.

"Looks like tile," she informed him.

    "Sonny."

    "What?" She shrugged, gaining an exasperated look. Her eyes rolled. "Fine, okay, on holy grounds?"

Shoupe sighed through his nose, finally done with her. He nodded towards the door and then looked back at the stacks of papers sat on the desk before him. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

   With grit teeth, Sonny shot him one final glare before she span on her heel. She'd just have to find some other way of getting the money to JJ.

   There was no way JJ had a bank for a transfer, and Sonny knew her father didn't just keep that type of cash lying about the house. And since she had way too much pride to go over to the Thorntons and beg, they had a real problem. It wasn't going to be easy, but what ever was?

   After rolling her shoulders back and risking a glance at the office labeled PETERKIN, which the sheriff didn't walk out of and likely wouldn't any time soon, Sonny stormed over to the door. She started to route through her bag again as she went, hoping she would find her phone somewhere in there to ring her dad and tell him the news, but she stopped still when she spotted the bundle of cash right at the bottom. Scooter's money. She sucked in a breath.

When she let it out, it was in a wince as her body slammed into somebody. Their torso wasn't as solid as a wall, so luckily Sonny didn't break her nose, but it still hurt.

"What the fuck?" She muttered.

    "Watch where you're going, kid." A voice said.

"You watch where you're going," she retorted easily, like the smart comments were in her nature — which they were. Her words were met with a chuckle however, one that had Sonny looking up with a scowl.

The man in front of her wasn't someone she knew, but he looked oddly familiar, and he reeked of stale booze and old cigarettes. He was wearing a white vest with a blue shirt, the name LUKE stitched in the fabric above his pocket. She was stuck squinting at him for a moment, trying to place him, to figure out why his face was so familiar to her, but to no avail. Sonny knew his type, though.

The dilated pupils, the bloodshot eyes, the crowfeet at the corners. He looked old, maybe older than he was, and there was faintly yellow tint to his skin.

She definitely knew his type.

"Well, aren't you a little firecracker?" He accused, dry lips pulling into a smirk.

"That's not the only crack around here..." she trailed off, pride filling her when his face pinched.

"Penbrook."

They both turned at Shoupe's warning tone. He had been observing from the desk, eyes flitting back and forth between both parties, his back straighter.

"Penbrook, aye?" The man, Luke, sneered. It sounded like he recognised the name. Most people did. "Island princess," his eyes narrowed on her, scowling at her bag and the dainty neckless she wore. "Just like ya mama."

Her face darkened, "You—"

"Maybank!"

Sonny stopped.

Had she heard that right? Maybank?

The man turned away from Sonny, almost begrudgingly, a frown on his face as he looked back at Shoupe. Sonny didn't break her stare, though. She continued to watch him, curled lips and wrinkled nose as her whole being filled with a dread she had never felt before now.

JJ's dad was a fucking junkie.

There was no chance that restitution was getting paid. Not by a man who looked like he'd been drinking since morning, knuckles slightly bruised as he rubbed his nostril and sniffed.

Sonny knew men like him, she knew them well, and Sonny knew as well as anyone in that station that he wouldn't pay a dime of JJ's restitution. He probably didn't even have it. His money, if any, was reserved for one thing only and when her eyes finally returned to Shoupe, he was already looking back at her. They both knew.

Sonny shot him a sharp look, challenging him to put that shiny gold badge to use and convince Topper's mom to take the money while he still had the chance, but he didn't. The man just pointed at the door.

"You were leaving, Penbrook."

————

    "I'm not going."

    "Don't be silly," Natasha rolled her eyes.

    "I'm being serious, mom." Sonny drawled from where she was sprawled across her bed, her converse in the air and legs resting against the headboard.

    "I've been organising Midsummers for months, Sonny. You already have a dress!" The woman said, waving the item like some sort of flag before hanging it on the closet door. A sigh left her lips, "It's beautiful."

    "You bought that dress," she pointed out, tone bored.

    "And it's beautiful!"

Sonny rolled her eyes. She supposed the dress was beautiful. They usually were — the ones she was forced into every year to attend Midsummers. Her mom had good taste, albeit quite expensive, but she had possibly outdone herself this year. The dress was the nicest yet and, while Sonny despised going to all their stupid events like Midsummers and having to spend one whole night surrounded by asshole Kooks, a small part of her actually wanted to wear it.

The baby blue silk number was stunning but if her mother asked, or anybody else for that matter, she thought it was ugly, just like the rest of this bourgeoise-ified tradition.

    "I said I'm not going," she repeated.

    "But you'll look so good in it," Natasha whined like a child who had never been told no.

   Who was the kid here?

    "Look at my face," Sonny challenged her, sitting up on the bed and leaning back on both elbows.

   Her mother grimaced, "Okay— maybe you're right..." she made a snap of her fingers, "But I'm not giving up! I spent a lot of money on that makeup collection you have and it's not going to waste,"

"People don't have electricity," Sonny reminded, "Isn't all this Midsummers shit totally tone-deaf?" She asked, arching one brow. Natasha sighed.

"Of course it is," she replied. "But let's not act like that's why you don't wanna go."

Sonny frowned.

"I know we couldn't help JJ—"

The girl groaned, slumped back down.

Sometimes she felt Natasha could see right through her. It was scary, but also comforting. Maybe they didn't always see eye to eye, and maybe Sonny was complex and hard to fully understand, but Natasha always tried. And most of the time she succeeded, too. It was weird.

"—but that's not our fault," Natasha said, "You know that Topper's mom has always been a bitch."

"Too right," Sonny huffed, picking at her nails.

    "And that's not going go change because you don't go to Midsummers," the woman continued, reaching out to push some hair behind Sonny's ear. "So put on the damn dress."

    "But—"

    "You're going!" She told her.

    "I'm not—"

   But her mother had already rushed out the room, quietly muttering something about concealer, and Sonny was left in silence. She let out a loud groan and rubbed her face, but it made her lip sting. So Sonny couldn't even be annoyed without pain now? She wanted to scream.

   Natasha was relentless sometimes, and stubborn, but Sonny kinda of appreciated it. It reassured her that, despite the two not adopting her, Natasha and Ed wouldn't be quick to give up on her. Even if she'd sank Topper's boat, somehow become a Pogue and wound up on a treasure hunt that they had no clue even existed yet. Hopefully they never would. There wasn't a dime down there anyway, and John B was still MIA, so it was over before it even actually began.

Sonny continued to stare at her converse, trying to think of some other way to get out of Midsummers, but her thoughts were interrupted as her phone buzzed.

She looked at the screen.

(1) NEW MESSAGE!
FROM BIRD

   Speak of the devil...

   She frowned, rolling onto her side and unlocking her phone. Her eyes flitted over the words, unsure of when or how John B had put his contact info in. How was his phone even working? The Cut had no service still.

Sonny figured it didn't really matter much.

What mattered was that was actually alive, which she had started to doubt as the hours ticked by, and something about the contact name made her lips twitch at the corners. BIRD. What his father had called him. Sonny clicked on the text, a furrow in her brows.

NEW CHAT WITH
BIRD

BIRD
sup?
—read!

She scoffed.

SONNY
sup? really?
—read!

you go mia for two days.
cheryl shows up at my door,
some dude had a taser, and
all you have to say is sup?
—read!

There was a brief pause.

Sonny glared at her phone in frustration, waiting patiently, then it buzzed again.

BIRD
okay my bad...
just look outside!
—read!

END OF CHAT

Look outside?

Sonny glanced at her window.

After a second of contemplation, she threw her phone onto her pillow and rolled off her bed, glancing over at the door to make sure her mom wasn't coming back yet. He was basically a fugitive and if Cheryl had contacted her parents to keep an eye out, she didn't want to risk it. Sure, she didn't think they'd expose him and ship him to the mainland, but she had made a promise. She had to keep it.

   Sonny pulled the latch and pushed up the frame, poking her head out and squinting. And sure enough, there he was: a curly haired brunette with dodgy highlights, dressed in a floral shirt with a bandanna around his wrist.

John Booker Routledge.

He waved.

    "How the fuck do you keep getting over the fence?"

    "They call me a mountain goat," he brushed off Sonny's comment, shrugging.

"Who's they?"

He ignored her, "Can I come up?"

    "Why?" She asked, sending him an odd look. John B only frowned, wasn't it obvious? But when a moment passed and he decided she still wanted a good answer, he let out a sigh and gripped the sleeves of his backpack.

"Well, I need to talk to you." He told her.

Sonny rolled her eyes and arched a brow at him, "You can't do it from down there, Booker?"

    "...no?"

    "Ugh," she groaned. He grinned.

He seemed to be in eerily good spirits, considering he was on the run two days ago, and it was ruining her shitty mood.

"Fine," she agreed, "But can't you call, next time?"

    "Ay, bird!" John B saluted her, beaming when she stuck a middle finger up at him. Sonny almost told him to shove off there and then but thought better of it.

   She didn't wait before stepping back from the window and soon enough, John B came clambering through. It reminded her of the last time he came in, and how different things had become since then — he didn't fall though, which she was a bit bummed about. He landed on his feet, better at sneaking around apparently, and she wondered just how much sneaking the boy had done the last two days.

She crossed her arms.

"What do you want, Booker?"

   He scoffed, "Welcoming as always."

   Sonny narrowed her eyes at him. She wasn't really in the mood for joking around. Then again, when was she ever? It was Sonny Penbrook here.

   "Okay," John B whistled, "No jokes. Noted."

    "What do you want?" Sonny repeated, rolling her eyes and peering at the door, "Nat's tryna force me to Midsummers and I'm this close to ripping my eyes out," she pinched her fingers, demonstrating. "So make it snappy."

    "Yikes," he blinked, "That's not— wait, what happened to your face neck?" John B stepped closer.

    "Rafe Cameron happened," she muttered, lowly.

    "Shit," he raised a hand to touch her neck, eyes hardening with an anger she'd never even realised he possessed. It made her uncomfortable in a way, the concern written on face. She didn't like when people worried about her. Even the few who understood her like John B.

    "It's whatever," Sonny swatted him away.

    "Whatever? It's not—"

    "Look," she said, "Karma's totally gonna bite him in the ass so don't sweat it."

   He raised a brow, "Ya think?"

    "Duh. My middle name's karma."

John B let out a snicker then paused, "Wait, really?"

   Sonny said nothing, only blinked at him, so John B cleared out his throat and decided to get back to business. "So you're not going to Midsummers?"

    "Not when I look like I've been hit by a truck," she replied in her usual deadpan tone. "Why?"

   He pursed his lips.

    "'Cause," John B said, "You're gonna be real pissed when I say you have to."

    "...say what, now?"

    "I need you to go...?" John B trailed off with a grimace. It sounded more of a question, one he didn't want the answer to, because he could already tell what she was going to say. And, judging by the way her face twisted, he needed to remedy the situation fast. "Okay, hear me out — alright? I need your help. Somebody needs to make sure Topper stays away from Sarah while I try and talk to her—"

   Sonny's eyes bulged.

    "Sarah?" She asked, "As in Cameron?"

   He spoke over her before she could explode, "—and you're the only one he'll actually talk to!"

   She blinked at him. Once, twice, and pointed. "Lemme get this straight. You want me to keep Topper busy — the asshole who literally tried to kill Pope last night — so you can go and talk to his girlfriend?"

   John B puckered his lips in thought.

    "...basically, yeah—"

    "No."

    "Sonny—"

    "No," she grit, "I'm not doing it. You wanna talk to Sarah? Find some other place to do it and someone else to help you."

    "Hey— I know Topper's an asshole and you guys have the weirdest relationship ever, okay?" John B clarified. It was fair, and actually a kind of good summary, but she still made sure to give him a stink eye. "And I know it's all gone to shit, since he's crazy and you're one of us now—"

   Sonny scoffed and marched over to her desk. He resisted a groan and scampered after her, kneeling down beside her, an undeniably desperate look in his eye.

    "—but I need to get this message to Sarah. I need to talk to her and you're the only person Topper would wanna see," the boy explained.

   He had a point.

   She didn't plan to tell him that, of course, so Sonny ran her tongue over her teeth and sighed.

    "Why d'you even wanna talk to Sarah Cameron, anyway?" She asked him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was weird. He had never mentioned her before. Sarah was a Kook, after all, like Sonny. "What message?"

   He hesitated, "Things have changed."

    "Changed how?"

    "I found something new," John B elaborated vaguely, a sly grin forming on his lips. He pulled his bag from his shoulders and took out a piece of paper, handing it over to her. Fingers pointing at the bottom line, "Get a load of this," he said. His other hand nudged her shoulder, "Read it."

   Sonny's nose scrunched, "What even is this shit?"

    "A letter from Denmark Tanny to his son," the boy briefly explained, strategically missing out how he got it and where it even came from. She stared at it.

    "A what?"

"A letter from Denmark Tanny—"

"Who the hell is that?"

"Does it matter?" John B asked, mildly irritated. Couldn't she just listen to him for once?

"Wait, Tanny?" She realised, "As in Tannyhill?"

    "Just read it!"

   Her eyes rolled and then scanned over the paper. They sat there silently for a moment before she shoved it towards him with a clenched jaw. She stared at John B like he hadn't ever passed sat a test in his life. 

    "I can't," she said.

    "Why not?"

    "I literally can't," Sonny emphasised.

    "Oh, yeah..." John B looked at the paper again, sheepishly. He'd almost forgotten that he had gone to his school to get it translated by a teacher. He tapped his finger against the page lightly and then recited the translation; "Harvest the wheat near the water in parcel nine forthwith."

    "What the fuck does that mean?" Sonny didn't understand why they were sat there reading some old ass letter about the dude harvesting wheat. When she glanced over at John B for some kind of explanation, Sonny found him already looking at her with eager eyes.

    "Means we're back in the G-game, bird."

━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━

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