chapter one
princess of kildare county

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Paradise on Earth was what they called it.

The Outer Banks was a world in and of itself, made up of all different kinds of people from various backgrounds. And one way to understand the island is through the Boneyard. A small part of the island with fallen, overgrown, rusted tree roots made to look like bones spread across the sand that unconsciously separated those who came to chug beer and judge those who were different from them.

   In one corner of three, you had the Pogues. The survivors of the island always wanted to have a good time. The working class derelicts that knew every inch of the Cut like the back of their hand. Clad with skateboards, the shortest jean shorts you could find, and the highest alcohol tolerance, the Pogues would be your safest option to group into at these kinds of parties.

   Then, the almighty Kooks. The rich second-homers. They're primarily from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustafarian posers—the Pogue's natural enemies. You could usually spot a Kook at a party from a mile away, finding them leaning against a wall, looking like they wanted to be anywhere else but the party they decided to go to. Kooks were also known for not being able to hold their liquor.

   Finally, the tourists, better known on the island as tourons, were teens who were clueless about all the animosity Kildare County residents held for one another. They were here for a week on vacation with their families, complete chums for the sharks. Wildcards could either be the life or death of the party.

   Sloane Woodson was the kookiest Kook you could spot from a mile away. With lengthy, brunette hair falling down her back, clad in an outfit costing the same as a Pogue's bi-weekly paycheck. Chanel Sunglasses covered her eyes and the sour expression she could not even try to hide at the sight in front of her.

   Just as she suspected, the Boneyard was a fucking mess. Hurricane Agatha did not hold back the fury of her destruction across Kildare County. Branches big and small embedded in the harsh sand beneath Sloane's sandal-covered feet. Trash everywhere from being washed up from the raging waters only a day before. And the smell. Most people enjoyed the scent of the air right after a harsh fall of rain.

   Sloane could not think of anything worse.

   The Woodson scrunched her nose at the scene before her, having half a mind to turn back around and walk back home, disregarding that she had hitched a ride with Sarah and her annoying boyfriend. But as she watched her best friend drag the boy away by the grip of his hand in pure excitement at the fun awaiting them, something stopped her from leaving.

   Something was different about tonight.

   Sloane could tell by the way the wind whisked through her hair, mixed with a humid front only locals could be used to. A humidity that sucked the oxygen from your lungs sprouted sweat from your brow, dried up the sensitive skin of your lips, and how the only thing you could concentrate on was how damn hot you were. Following Sarah's lead, Sloane slowly started to integrate into the crowd, careful not to let anyone drunkenly bump into her and ruin what little of an okay mood she was in.

   Could she let the fact Sarah had already broken her promise about not leaving her side ruin her night? Sure. But Sloane decided to let trivial things like that be beneath her. She didn't always need her best friend next to her like some safety blanket. The Woodson was more than capable of being at a party by herself. Even if it was a party, she didn't even want to attend in the first place.

Sloane spotted the line to the keg fairly quickly, begrudgingly stepping behind a couple of apparent tourons who were looking around the Boneyard in insufferable awe. Once it was her turn, the blonde didn't even attempt to hide the roll of her eyes at the murky sight of cheap beer floating in the silver keg. Nevertheless, she still filled herself with a red solo cup. Beer was beer.

Pursing her taut lips, Sloane oversaw her steps as her eyes searched for anyone she knew. As if the clear sky above knew of her struggle, a familiar voice with an agitated twang sounded from a few feet away.

"What is she doing here?"

   The Woodson followed Kiara Carrera's hardened gaze, only to settle upon the girl she arrived with, causing the brunette to inhale sharply, expelling the breath harshly. Of course, at the center of it all is the scene of the crime: Sarah fucking Cameron. Sloane knew her best friend's presence would cause some discourse amongst some partygoers in the crowd. And she wasn't exactly being subtle with her attendance.

   Resisting yet another brain-shattering eye roll at the sight of Sarah on top of an abandoned buoy. At the same time, her lost puppy boyfriend tried to get her down; Sloane finally decided to bite the gunmetal bullet headed straight toward her and make her presence known.

   "Damn, you could be a little more excited to see me."

   Kiara snapped her head away from one Kook to another, her face brightening at the sight of her friend. The girl didn't hesitate to hug the blue-eyed girl tightly. "Thank God you're here."

   The sudden burst of affection never ceased to take Sloane by surprise whenever she saw Kiara, no matter how many times it happened. Physical affection wasn't her thing. But she appreciated knowing her friend was happy to see her, nonetheless.

   "Trust me, I don't want to be," Sloane confided before pulling out of the embrace. "But at least you're here."

   Sloane didn't have a lot of friends; she was the first one to admit that. She had her mom, Sarah, and Kiara whenever she could see her now that the girl transferred schools. But the brunette wasn't ashamed of that—something she tried to hide. If anything, she took pride in who she kept close to her because those people had the one thing Sloane held most dear: trust. The smaller the circle, the more trust you have and the more control you have over every single aspect of your life. Sloane taught herself that reasonably quickly.

It was all about control.

"Routledge," Sloane nodded in greeting to the boy who watched the exchange. "I take it you're the host?"

The dirty blonde only smiled sarcastically with squinted eyes, silently tapping his nose as if to tell her assumption was correct. The two had an odd acquaintanceship. Neither one of them had an issue with the other. Following the fallout of the Kook It Girl Trio, John B was less than happy to learn how it affected Kie. But what surprised him was a surprise visit at the Chateau by Sloane Woodson, who was looking for Kie the next day, wanting to explain herself because the last thing she wanted was to lose her friendship with Kie. To say that raised a plethora of eyebrows would be an understatement. Since then, the two girls might not see each other as often as they used to, but they were still great friends, and John B appreciated Sloane taking the initiative and continue being friends with Kie. And Sloane's side was plain: she never had problems with anyone unless they gave her a reason. John B had yet to give her a reason to dislike him.

When it all comes down to it, she was a Kook, and he was a Pogue. That was just how it was in Kildare.

   Sloane pursed her lips at his underwhelming response, moving her gaze back to her friend, who was no longer smiling and looking her way. Instead, it was back watching the blonde Kook, who made her unexpected appearance.

   Dropping a hand on Kie's shoulder, Sloane eyed her knowingly as she suggested. "Girl talk?"

   Kiara hesitated before agreeing, "Girl talk."

   The Carrera sometimes hated how well her friend knew her. It could be the smallest tell, and Sloane would notice them before Kiara even had the chance to realize she was picking at her cuticles or grinding her teeth together, making her jaw visibly clench. She had a similar bond with the boys, but Kiara was very grateful for having that bond with another girl.

With their arms interlocked, the two girls started walking across the crowded sand without a solid destination, looking for a spot that was as secluded as they were going to get at the Boneyard filled with people their age with bellies swirling with alcohol.

   Sloane strode through the sea of teens, never being the one to break eye contact if someone caught her eye. It was almost humorous seeing so many people double-take as if to make sure she was honest, only to look away as if her stare would turn them into stone. One person, however, almost made her falter her gaze. Almost.

   At the last second, the Kook glanced to her right, locking eyes with someone no one would ever expect her to ever associate herself with. Messy, tousled blonde hair. A faded muscle tee, cargo shorts, and combat boots. Follicles of dirt underneath bitten-down fingernails. Scarcely scattered scrapes across slightly bruised kneecaps and elbows. Joint in one hand, beer in the other. The pointed, wandering eyes that could not control themselves. A mouth with words spoken before the mind even had a chance. Like it could ever compete. The boy every girl rolled their eyes at but secretly wanted to jump in bed with. The boy every father couldn't wait to meet and give their blessing to.

JJ Maybank.

   From an outsider's point of view, the two were like oil and water. They did not mix. Never would. It's almost like a chemical imbalance, which is ironic because, in Sloane's opinion, the boy was just oh-so-good in bed. She thought of their impulsive encounters more often than she cared to admit. His hands clenched tight around her waist. His breath on her cheek. His deep groans in her ear each time they felt their bodies connected in perfect unison.

No matter how obnoxious Sloane thought JJ was, he was the first and only boy to make her cum. And for that, she never made him forget it. The way he made her feel outside of her perfect, pristine world. That was why she couldn't help the subtle wink escape her fluttered eye as she passed him, smirking when she heard the boy scoff behind her in response. He was just too easy in more ways than one.

Kiara and Sloane settled comfortably against the rocks laid upon the sand of the Boneyard, a reasonable distance from the party, to have an actual conversation, which both had been craving for a while.

   "Alright, K," Sloane exhaled dramatically, plopping down on the hard rock below her. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Since the trio's fallout, the topic of what happened has been avoided at all costs. Sloane knew the wounds were still fresh on Kiara's skin, and anything that had to do with Sarah or the Kook Academy risked the result of the honorary Pogue being triggered, and that was the last thing Sloane wanted to do. However, Sloane couldn't help herself. Though the question was broad enough, Kiara knew the root of the question and where it stemmed from.

The Carrera just stared at the ocean, watching the waves crash against each other as it tried to settle down from the storm the day before. The girl couldn't decode; it was hard to meet her friend's eyes, no matter how accepting or understanding they were. Pursing her lips, Kiara dropped her head to watch the exciting sight of her fingers picking at her cuticles. "Does she ever talk about me?"

Sloane felt her brows raise on their own accord, not expecting that to be the start of their conversation. "She doesn't... talk badly about you. If that's what you're implying."

"Does she ever even mention me at all, S," Kie reiterated with a twinge of frustration in her tone, feeling strong enough to look at her friend. "I mean, we were best fucking friends. Those kinds of feelings don't just disappear overnight."

Moments like these made Sloane want to crawl out of her skin and never find her way back. She was never good at navigating how to comfort people how they needed it. She never did well with emotions or saw the big deal in knowing if Sarah still talked about Kiara in any way, shape, or form. The Kook understood everyone was different regarding how they handled situations and emotions, but that still didn't change how Sloane viewed things on her end.

Sloane blew a raspberry from her full lips, keeping her gaze on the Sun slowly starting to set ahead, trying to come up with the best response without sounding too insensitive. "Sarah is a complicated person, Kie. She always has been and probably always will be. Since we were kids, there has been this revolving door of all kinds of people in our lives who were here one day and gone the next simply because she didn't want them around anymore. That's just always been the norm. Is it normal? No. Is it healthy? Absolutely not. But I learned a while ago that Sarah is going to do what Sarah wants to do no matter what anyone says, including me."

The Kook didn't mean to go on such a tangent; it just happened to spill out and scatter across the already wet sand. Sloane tended to think most things were better left unsaid. It was rare for her mind and lips to connect to their fullest extent, especially about something that wasn't directly about her. However, she hated seeing her friend so lost and upset.

Kiara watched her friend closely, wind breezing through her untamed hair. "Then, why do you think she keeps you around?"

That question seemed to stump Sloane, causing the girl to inhale sharply before slowly releasing her breath, and she was unable to answer. She could easily explain many things about Sarah, such as why she preferred strawberry over grape jelly on her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Why she thought saving the planet should be everyone's number one priority. Why she preferred being blonde over her natural brunette, which she dyed two years ago and has never returned to since. But why Sarah Cameron kept Sloane Woodson around while the revolving door of people hit their asses on the way out and not hers? That was unexplainable. Sloane had always been a strong, confident individual. There wasn't much that could crack such a foundation. However, that thought did linger from time to time as she watched that revolving door from the sidelines. They taunted her, even. What made Sloane so different if everyone seemed so disposable in Sarah's life?

   That wasn't a question for Sloane to answer—not to herself or anyone else. Quieting the rare, scrambled panic in her mind, the Woodson sighed, moving her gaze away from the crashing waves to the sea of teens a short distance away from her. Her best friend was so easy to spot. Her unkempt hair flowed in the wind, her pink floral dress hugged her figure perfectly, and her laugh could make anyone smile. Sloane couldn't help but feel her lips perk in a slight simper at the sight of Sarah having fun with Topper, a sight she'd never thought she would see.

"That's something you'd have to ask her."

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The Sun had set entirely on Kildare Island, meaning the fire pit was raging, and the drinks were flowing with no end in sight. After another hour of talking and catching up, Sloane and Kiara reluctantly split off to their respective groups, showing how apparent and ridiculous it was that they even had to.

   Contrary to first glance and impressions, Sloane wasn't sure who she would rather waste her time with if she had to choose. Although she was usually grouped with them, the girl was less than impressed with how her fellow Kooks acted in public. The raging superiority complex practically spilling from their pores made Sloane want to throw up in her mouth every time she laid eyes on some of them. Topper and Kelce are at the top of her list.

   Rolling her eyes so severely she feared they would get stuck in such a position forever, Sloane walked away from the group to get another drink since it had been hours since her first and only one. The girl had faintly recalled seeing one of the kegs in the middle of the Boneyard earlier. Luckily for her, she found the keg without anyone drunkenly bumping into her. Unluckily, she was met with the sight of two Pogues pouring drinks from the keg.

   Keeping her annoyance at bay at the sight of the troublesome duo, Sloane tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. "Can I get a drink?"

JJ Maybank's brow shot up drastically, as close to his hairline as humanly possible, at the request, "You want a beer? Sloane Woodson wants a taste of this here Milwaukee beverage?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?" Sloane wasn't in the mood to deal with any of his teasing, especially the kind that didn't follow with his hands down her pants.

   JJ scoffed under his breath; her attitude never ceased to amaze him. "Not at all. Just shocked it's up to your standard of drinkage."

"Okay," John B dragged the vowel awkwardly, trying to diffuse the tension between the two and not cause a scene. The boy filled a red Solo cup with beer with no issue, holding it out for the girl to take, "Here you go, Sloane."

   The Woodson sent the boy a less flat look, more grateful to him than she would have been if the drink had come from the other boy beside him. Before she could take the cup, someone spoke up behind her.

"I'll take it."

This was precisely what Sloane wanted to avoid. Getting caught in the middle of a testosterone match between some of the most insufferable human beings she had ever come across. All because she wanted a cheap fucking beer. Why was it always her? The girl glanced behind her only momentarily to lock eyes with Sarah, who was next to her boyfriend, watching the scene in front of her with unease.

"I'll—thank you, man," Topper Thornton continued with sarcastic gratitude, "I appreciate it."

JJ chuckled pathetically under his breath at the Kook in front of him, his excellent mood dwindling, "That's nice, but we weren't talking to you. If you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn't."

"Oh, pretty please... Pretty please?"

"Yeah. Sloane, here's your beer."

Only then did Sloane realize John B and JJ ensured her cup stayed with them and never in the hands of Topper or any other Kook, no matter their persistence, without her consent. Not when Topper first tried to reach for it when he walked over. Not when he didn't acknowledge her presence and used her getting a beer from the boys to cause a scene. Not when he persisted that beer was no longer hers but now his. No matter how obnoxious she thought John B and JJ were, she appreciated them caring enough about her beer to keep it out of Topper's grimy little hands.

And before anyone knew what was happening, or Sloane could take the beer and prevent the next slew of events from spiraling out of control, Topper knocked the cup out of JJ's hand, causing the alcohol to spray over the boy. Sloane watched in shock as the Pogue pushed Topper roughly in the chest by the collar of his shirt, stepping back to make sure she wasn't caught in the middle of the impending brawl.

"Dirty Pogues!"

Suddenly, everything Sloane wanted to avoid became unavoidable. John B, who initially held JJ back from Topper, rounded out from between his friends and shoved the Pogue himself at the harsh insult spat their way. Sloane vaguely heard another one of the Pogues, Pope Heyward, call out to John B, saying they were supposed to be incognito or something along those lines. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. However, the girl couldn't dwell on that for too long before Topper punched John B square in the face, knocking the boy to the wet sand and attracting even more attention from the partygoers around the Boneyard.

Topper kicked John B while he was down, sending him into the ragingly freezing waters, "Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?"

   It was only then did everything went from bad to fucking insane. Sloane watched with a slacked jaw as her peers chanted for the boys to continue to fight. John B stood from the water in a flash, tackling Topper into the water. The respective friends of the two boys tried to get them to stop, their pleaded yells being drowned out by the overwhelming cheers around them, egging the violence on. Sloane warily glanced next to her to see Sarah scrape a distressed hand through her dirty blonde locks, her face full of worry. On her other side, Kie and Pope held similar stances of unease, while JJ only seemed to encourage John B to keep fighting off Topper. Sloane didn't know how to feel about that. She didn't know how to think about any of this.

John B and Topper stumbled from the sand to the water again, and the latter could throw the Pogue over his shoulder and into the rocky shoreline after quickly gaining the upper hand again. After a moment, expecting the position to change instantaneously, Sloane felt her heart drop to her stomach at the sight before her. Topper stayed on his knees in the shallow end with his back to the crowd, keeping John B headfirst in the water without letting him up for air.

   An equally trembling hand grasped hers in a steel-tight grip, which Sloane allowed and squeezed without a second thought, knowing exactly who it was. She would be scared out of her mind if she, too, was witnessing her boyfriend commit literal homicide right in front of her and half the population of Kildare County. 

   "He's drowning him," Sloane heard Pope panic from close by, his voice almost wholly muffled over all the discourse surrounding them.

   Sloane barely felt the harsh knock on her shoulder as someone rushed past her. If possible, her hazel eyes grew wider at JJ's fuming figure storming toward the pair. His name caught itself in her throat, her mind reminding her where she was. For she knew, outside of their four walls of intimacy, she held no influence, no ounce of power, over him. Before she could only guess what he would do to try and break up the fight, a sharp click cut through the air.

The Woodson had only ever seen a gun from the comfort of her living room while watching a movie or TV show. She had never seen one in real life. Not until that very moment. Not until she saw the black piece in JJ's trembling grasp, finger on the trigger, pointed directly at the back of Topper's head. And while the other teens around her started hurriedly scrambling to exit the Boneyard in fear of the sudden change of pace of the night, Sloane stayed tightly next to Sarah, not wanting her to leave her to the wolves and their wrath. Mainly JJ's.

"JJ!"

"Chill, dude!"

   "Stop! JJ!" Sarah shouted at the Pogue, her pleas to carry over the others around her doing the same, "Put the gun down!"

   "Did you say somethin', princess?"

   Sloane scoffed in disbelief at what she was witnessing, no longer able to bite her tongue. "JJ, put the fucking gun down!"

   "We're good," Topper shakily assured the Pogue, his hands, which had already let go of John B, in the air in surrender when he felt the gun's pressure start to lift from his head, "We're good. All right?"

The straighter Topper stood, leaving a gasping John B on the ocean floor, the closer Kiara and Pope moved toward JJ to try and get home to calm down, which only seemed to tip him over the edge.

Sarah grabbed her boyfriend's arm to not only stabilize him but also to get him away from the weapon that was just pointed at him as soon as possible, "Kie! Can you check your psycho friend, please?"

"Okay, everyone, listen up!" JJ exclaimed to those remaining at the Boneyard, holding the pistol in the air, "Get the hell off our side of the island!"

Sloane physically flinched at the sound of two shots that rang loudly in the air, sparking even more panic and disarray around her. She lost sight of Sarah; no doubt her boyfriend dragged the girl out, leaving her stranded and forced to fend for herself. But for some reason, that wasn't her first concern or thought.

It was like a bad car accident. You know the rare sight of one you pass randomly on the side of the road. The two of the two or three cars all mangled together—the roaring sound of the ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks pulling up to the scene. Soon, you find yourself unable to keep your eyes off the total disaster you didn't know existed, not even two minutes ago.

Sloane felt like she had just witnessed a bad car accident and couldn't look away. Not as Kiara and Pope shoved JJ, scolding him for his reckless and dangerous actions of firing his gun. Not as John B passed out and fell back into the ocean below him. Not as Kiara and Pope ran over to their friend to bring him to shore to try and wake him up. And not when her eyes locked with ones that belonged to the creator of the chaos she had just witnessed. The driver who was at fault.

  The Woodson did not look away from his heated gaze, even as it started to simmer down as the adrenaline began to waver. If she knew better, she could've sworn she saw JJ's hues even soften at her expression. Sloane could only guess what she looked like. Clad with wide-eyed, flushed cheeks, cracked lips, and flailed hair. A real sight for sore eyes.

   "JJ!"

   The call from his fellow Pogues brought them out of their staring match, prompting Sloane to make the first move and slowly start to walk backward before turning around and leaving the Boneyard, something she had wanted to do since first arriving. However, she couldn't help but feel this pull in her chest. Sloane had wanted to leave the stupid party for ages. She knew that—there was no denying it.

   So why now, with her back facing those four teens, did she feel even an ounce of regret that made her want to turn around and run back to them?

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