chapter sixteen / salt the earth behind you

   An entombed truth lied dormant in Ilyshah Tūrei, one she wasn't even saving for the memoirs, much less the burning eardrums of JJ Maybank.

Turning the memory to ashes above the clouds of Aotearoa and salting the earth behind her served as a mirage to her mind, only for every waking moment since she landed in the Outerbanks existing as a living reminder of what she lost. Bypassing that truth day by day, it was as if her mind and body belonged to a complete stranger, a ghostly vessel that would put on clothes and take her from point A to point B.

[ . . . In retrospect, she wished she had committed to the orphan story, a lie tasted better on her tongue than the hard to swallow dosage of reality and her parents were dead to her anyway . . . ]

   That's why she was thankful JJ didn't bring it up the next day, instead distracting her by teaching her the wonders of driving stick through the streets of The Cut with the aftermath of last night still scattered like uncovered remains across the dashboard of Spencer Fishers' jaguar. Empty bottles, crisp packets, lolly wrappers, leftover butts of joints in the ashtray. They had burnt through four cassettes by mid-afternoon, The Cranberries among their latest to purr from the radio.

     "Now remember, you take your foot off the gas and hoof it on the clutch when shifting into second," JJ instructed, sending volts down her right thigh after he tapped it lightly as the intro to Linger panned in.

    She blew a ring of air as her body responded in tandem, drawling an anxious, "o-kay," before pressing on the clutch and shifting into second gear.

To tell the truth, it's not like Ilyshah never drove a manual car. Every coastie kid was thrown into the deep end of a ute so long as they could walk and talk, but when she landed herself in a ditch six years ago after only two goes at the gear behind her father's loose temper, she trusted anyone else but herself behind the wheel. Not to mention the dashboard of a jaguar may as well be an extraterrestrial object only JJ could decipher on his first try because his internet history was likely full of car video after car video.

"Cheehoo! You got it girl scout," he praised after five head-knocking stall attempts progressed into a smooth drive, the dimples on his cheek deepening.

    "Fah, imagine if we just kept driving," Ilyshah serenely commented, placing half her focus on the gear shift, "I reckon it'd be neat, eh . . . where would you go?"

"Oh—Yucatan, in a heartbeat. Yeah, ever heard of it? They have these sick sinkholes and ruins—beer is cheap, surf is primo."

       Ilyshah bared her pearly crooked cuspids in a lucent grin. "Sounds mean as."

     "Hardcore. We could be like Thelma and Louise . . . except y'know we're not lesbians," he went agape at her deep-set frown, "I mean, I'm not—are you? Wait, maybe don't tell me."

     "You really don't know how or when to stop talking, eh?" She gripped the steering wheel with one hand and leaned back into the leather seat, "But sure, Thelma and Louise take on the roads g."

   It sounded like one of those plans that died as soon as it left their lips never to be spoken of again as they pulled up to their third destination of the day, coming back down to earth but in their hearts, they thought one day it might just happen. Every hop, skip and jump across the island only delayed the inevitable Kahu lecture she was avoiding and ran the risk of a more severe punishment, worse than that? She was in the red zone of places she knew her uncle frequented on The Cut—Heyward's Seafood.

  Out of all the places on Kildare Island apart from the surf, this place was up there as her favourite. It housed all a Māori girl would need if she were stripped of her bearings and shipped off to a lesser known place. The fresh catch of the day chalkboard featuring flounder, rockfish and mackerel. The lemon coated gum ball machine she was emptying a new batch of dubble bubble gum balls into, then swatted JJ's hand as he tried to pinch a pink ball from the top. The fish netting and gear suspended from the ceiling decorated with starfish and life buoys. She loved that it wasn't so different from the dairy her auntie Toia and uncle Wiki ran back home, apart from the accents of patrons, and the absence of Tūrei's all famous steak and kumara pies people travelled across the country for.

"Hope you two don't mind stacking shelves," remarked Mr Heyward in a gravelly voice as he set down a heavy carton of product on the floor beside Ilyshah and Kiara Carrera, panting as he wiped his forehead beaded with sweat against his forearm. "I'd do it but I'm waiting on my guys to get back."

"All goods, Mr Heyward! We got it."

    Locals bustled by the two girls in the shop as JJ and Pope covered the register, ripping products off the shelves as soon as they neatly packed it. Old bay seasonings, jars of mayo, tinned sardines, canned beans and boxed spaghettini hot on shopping lists. They unpacked in silence at first, after all, what did they have in common besides—

"I take it Lani wasn't down with you pointing a gun at her boyfriend," Kiara cut through the silence, eyeing the grazes stained across Ilyshah's temple and jawline as she mindlessly stacked the shelf.

"Kinda started it when I slapped her."

"Oh shit, serious?" Kiara looked impressed, puckering her bottom lip. "Better hope the Kook Queen doesn't find out about any of this . . . doubt that'll be pretty."

"Yeah look, I dunno what went down between youse but—Sarah's been a good mate to me."

"Right," Kiara scoffed as she broke down the last box. "Let me guess, she makes you feel special—like you belong?"

    She paused her movements as Ilyshah blocked her out by fixating on stacking the last of the sardine tins. "I get it. Just . . . wouldn't want you to be surprised like I was when she turns on you."

   Each doubt gave rise to another as Kiara left her side to the point where she doubted her own doubt. The weight of being behind a gun and its consequences hadn't fully dawned on her until now. Frankly, she wouldn't give a shit in a town like this but Sarah Cameron, she was different. Losing her meant the permanent retreat of the morning sun, like the rays spilling onto her fingertips from the sunburst tangerine JJ chucked her as she joined him and Pope at the register. He made her so easily forget what awaited her back on Figure Eight, as if the world stopped spinning and birthed between them a new one with its very own construct of space and time in orbit.

   "Hey, about what you said earlier—why don't we just do it," JJ suggested as he juggled a ripe peach, "hit the open road, busk for money along the way—I mean, what else d'you have planned for the summer, princess?"

    "Besides surf? I dunno—transcend to a higher stream of consciousness?"

JJ shot her a finger gun, "my point exactly, you could still do . . . whatever that is, on the road."

"You'll do anything to keep that car of Spencer's eh?" She shook her head in amused disapproval, digging her fingernails under the rind of the tangerine to reveal the cocooned segments.

He lazily raised his arms, donned with a knowing smirk spread across his face. "Guilty as charged, ma'am."

"Wait, Spencer gave you his jag . . . just like that?" asked Pope, falling into further disbelief after Ilyshah innocently nodded as she popped a sunburst tangerine wedge in her mouth. "Did you hear if they're gonna snitch?"

         "They better not, if they ever wanna see the light of day again."

"Yo, cool it with the violence, girl scout," JJ sarcastically remarked, cheekily grinning as she flipped him a middle finger with a stone cold glare. "Don't let it get in your head, brother. There was three of them and two of us—that's some typical Kook shit right there."

   "Hell yeah it is," Kiara added.

        "What was your thought process, using your head?"

"I don't know, man. I just kind of acted off instinct, alright?" Pope defended himself as he distractedly jotted down order numbers, "I was a cornered animal."

Heyward's voice boomed through the entrance as he waltzed in. "Hey, Pope! Someone here to see you guys."

Her face dropped at the sight of Officer Shoupe before the indistinct murmur of chatter from his radio could reach her ears. Best case scenario, undool found the mannequin in her bed and called up Shoupe just to scare her. Worst case—

    "I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property," Shoupe manoeuvred behind the counter, bumping into her as he passed, "keep your hands on the counter where I can see them—young ladies, move out of my way."

In the commotion of raised voices and warranted vitriol by Heyward, JJ, and Kiara as a shell shocked Pope was escorted in handcuffs out of the shop where customers were long forgotten about, Ilyshah followed behind rendered speechless until she too had rage coursing through her veins when she pieced it all together. She had seen this film before, starred as the main fucking character. Where moments of impact took shape in a matter of minutes. Years and decades happening within that one stretch of time. Lives mangled until they are unrecognisable before your brain can even begin to register it.

   Then like the flash before the detonation of an atomic bomb, JJ cried out, "It wasn't him!" His face took a pained shape, "it was me."

     "JJ," whispered Ilyshah as she attempted to entwine their hands only for him to hastily pull away and stride towards Shoupe, Pope and Mr Heyward.

"He tried to talk me out of it, but I was mad because he'd just been beaten up—I was so sick of those assholes on Figure Eight that I lost my shit," he confessed as if half lies tasted better on his tongue too, "I can't let you take the blame for something I did . . . you got too much to lose."

"JJ, what are you doing?"

    "I'm tellin' the truth . . . for once in my goddamn life, I'm gonna tell the truth," he donned a barely there smirk, "I took his old man's boat too."

   "What the hell?"

          "JJ, come on—"

                 "Just shut up, Pope! Just shut up," he fiercely argued though the tremble in his voice betrayed him, "he's a good kid . . . you know where I'm from," nodding when Shoupe affirmed matters of bloodlines soaked in lemon, "this was all me."

"That's the whole truth?"

   All it took was four words from Pope Heyward. Four words to land JJ Maybank in handcuffs and his head pushed into the back of the squad car after he gave Ilyshah one last glance, her eyes sullen and hollow in contrast to his distant stare straight ahead as Shoupe drove off. She stood paralysed in the cloud of dust it left behind after Pope hurled his cap at the gravelled road, cursing himself, then set off towards the dock with Kiara following behind. Only Mr Heyward's tender hand on her shoulder tore her away from the war in her mind, leaving him with an absent-minded smile before trailing far behind.

  Witnessing the destruction of Agatha days after she hit the island looked a lot like the ruins of the Pogues after fate dealt them today's cruel red hand. With John B M.I.A., JJ now in custody and Pope shrugging Kiara off his cold shoulder, it was nothing short of a disaster, and there were no clean up crews for this type of destruction.

     "We need to get to the station—I know someone that can help," Ilyshah urged Kiara, leading her in a hurried march to the jaguar then as she was about to open the car door, she scrunched up her face, "Uh. . . can you drive stick?"

Kiara rolled her eyes with an impatient sigh. "Give me the keys."

      Kildare County Station saw the laws of the jungle and the iron fist of order collide like oil and water, stubbornly refusing to mingle and merge in a fluid tapestry. Aged notices and wanted posters dominated a wall towards the corridor, as phones rang off the hook, doors were slammed, and papers were filed. Stale coffee blended with the mustiness of the holding cells far out of eyes reach stained the air, all creating a perfectly hostile environment to anyone who stepped foot in it, all by design.

   Ilyshah diplomatically argued with Deputy Plumb at the front desk, "I read the warrant, officer. What he admitted to is a class B misdemeanour at most, so really there's no need to keep my friend in a holding cell here."

"He destroyed property worth tens of thousands, Miss Tūrei. My advice? Pick better friends," Plumb bitterly retorted, startling Ilyshah by abruptly slamming a file on the desk before picking up the landline that had been incessantly ringing.

    "Thanks a lot," she grumbled after turning on her heel to face Kiara, "someone must've pissed in her cuppa tea."

"No, that's just the pigs for you—what are we even doing here? It's no use."

    "We've got to do something," she protested, her eyes then lit up like a pyre of desperation as Sheriff Peterkin emerged from her office. "Sheriff! Hi, Sheriff—Ilyshah Tūrei, I'm here for my friend whose in your custody—did you offer him his three calls? Because I have a number right here . . . for a lawyer," she whipped out her phone drained of its battery and flared her nostrils, "the attorney is Andrew Vogel, can you please find his contact and pass it onto JJ?"

   Sheriff Peterkin adjusted her posture, tempering her voice, "Miss, you need to let us do our jobs here—"

     "All due respect Sheriff, but doing your job isn't in his best interest and I'm not leaving until Mr Vogel's called."

Peterkin paused momentarily with a weighty huff, licking her lips before tilting her head towards the desk. "Pull up Mr Vogel's contact," she murmured, Deputy Plumb at first nonplussed before clacking at the keyboard of the boxy computer, "You seem smart Ilyshah, I suggest you go home to your uncle now or I can make that phone call for you too."

"No need."

  As soon as the two girls left the station, Ilyshah made a beeline for the nearest payphone. She didn't know Vogel's office contact off by heart, hell she didn't know any numbers off by heart but she didn't trust the police to work against themselves either. With her phone dead, the directory service was her last resort. She picked up the phone, only to be met with no dial tone. After three futile attempts of dropping the phone and picking it back up, she slammed it onto the receiver with a curse under her breath and resigned herself back to Spencer's jaguar where Kiara waited for her.

   "How do you even know an attorney to call anyway?"

        "I interned for him in the spring, he'll help JJ out pro bono—"

                "You were with them when they did it, weren't you?" She quickly cut her off with an interrogation of her own, noting the guilty silence fallen between them with a roll of her eyes as she started the car up. "Y'know, for someone who wants to be a pogue so bad you still have a lot to learn—for starters, no secrets among us."

"I didn't have—"

       "Second, we look out for each other," she continued, pausing after putting the car into drive, "and after what you did last night and back there . . .  well, maybe you're not half as bad as I thought."

   "High praise coming from you."

"Don't get used to it."

       Kiara's features softened halfway through their drive as Ilyshah stared out longingly from her window, "I know you like him. Hell, anyone with eyes can see it," she commented, not wavering even when confronted with a face full of denial, "but we all know about your rule too so please . . . just promise me whatever you do, don't hurt him."

   "Kie, I can't—"

               "Promise me."

"I promise."

   They remained silent the rest of the way, and she didn't dare turn the radio back on—the last thing she wanted was the voice of Dolores O'Riordan belting out of the speakers to remind her just how quickly another day on this island turned. She considered the prospect of sleeping in the jaguar until days end but as they pulled up to The Wreck, she knew it was better to rip the band aid off sooner rather than later.

   "You sure you don't want me to help you take it back to Spencer's? I can get someone to cover the start of my shift," asked Kiara after handing over the keys as requested.

       "Nah—I should do it, but eh . . . don't be surprised if you hear a crash on West 8th St."

              Kiara stifled a laugh bubbling up from her nose, curling in her lips. "I'll see you around, Lysh."

She mouthed her goodbyes to Kiara, not having the energy for anything more. Gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white as she navigated the vaguely familiar territory of the manual transmission, she roared the jaguar back to life with the twist of the ignition. Honing back in on JJ's instructions from that morning, painful as it was to recall, the engine growled beneath her, setting a symphony of gears rhythmically clashing as she delicately danced between the clutch and gas.

Her cardinal mistake was in assuming that finally turning on the radio would calm her nerves, its tune and lyrics like the ghost of a moment distracting her from driving, with the remnants of last night now stuffed into a plastic bag to be dumped as if it all never happened. The more she thought about JJ, the more she stuttered on the clutch, the more cars would blare their horns at her before she stuck up her middle finger to them as they sped past her. The winding roads up to the Fishers' residence were no help either, nor was the pit in her stomach wrenching the closer she got to their driveway.

Spencer emerged from the garage after opening the gates for her, his expression one of nonchalance that grated against her frayed nerves.

    "Surprised she's still in one piece," he teased, oblivious to the storm harkening behind Ilyshah's eyes as he inspected the jaguar with a scrutinous eye. "Not even a scratch."

  Ilyshah slammed the door behind her and threw the keys at his chest, "here's your keys back, I'm leaving," she bluntly remarked, taking off towards the gate.

"What the—Lysh! Hey, wait up," Spencer called out for her, seizing her arm after he caught up to her, "Lysh, what's going—"

She ripped her arm out of his grip, her voice climbing to where she hadn't taken it in a while.

"Pope got arrested today, know anything about that?" Her anger took him aback, but the prolonged silence spoke a thousand words written between the lines as she swallowed back the flood of tears threatening to surface, "JJ's now behind bars because of them!"

"How is that my fault? I've told you how many times now not to get involved. I had to convince Rafe not to press charges against you."

"Who do you think you are—some kind of hero?" She inched her contorted face closer to his with gritted teeth. "Well, you're not, Spence. You're a coward, you're a fucking coward."

"Call me whatever you want, but you know I'm right. We all have a choice—you're either here, or over there. Don't make the wrong one for a guy you barely know who's bound to end up in Wadesboro."

She shook her head in disbelief, then lifted her gaze to Lucia Fishers peering out from the entryway, her face flickering with concern as she tightened the kaftan around her waist. Lowering her voice, she replied with a croaked murmur. "Don't call me . . . don't text me—we're through."

A series of thunderous rumbles drowned out the calls of her name that Ilyshah never turned back to as she paced down the streets muted by blankets of unforgiving rain; the thick stifling air weighing her down like lead weights, burning her lungs until they gave out with garrotted breaths. Her movements stalled at the sandstone wall surrounding Kahu's estate, only urged on by the lightning show broken out by the heavens above and the fact that she had nowhere else to go. She climbed the jasmine strung timber lattice up to her once ivory tower, dug into the flower pot for the key to her balcony door and stepped through.

Broken perfume bottles and ceramic trinket boxes still littered the floorboards, along with clothes from the night before strewn across the room, illuminated by the pale light from the window, the radio and table lamp she left on when she ran away now switched off. It no longer felt like hers, more like a creature ran through it and claimed it as their own. At the foot of the bed with the comforters pulled back sat Kahu Tūrei, jaw tightened and shoulders slumped, massaging his chin in thought.

"Wanna guess how long I've been sitting here for, Lysh?" Kahu sat up straight, pressing on his knees, "Five hours too long—I oughta call the cops, but lucky Sheriff Peterkin beat me to the phone."

Ilyshah sniffled, running a hand through her water logged tresses. "Undool, please—I'm too tired for this—"

"Oh, you're tired? The hell has gotten into you? No, don't even tell me—because I know it's that boy, niece. That boy—he's a troubled kid, Lysh."

She laughed through the tears surfacing. "We're all troubled kids!" She cried, her breath trembling on itself, "you don't think I'm a troubled kid after mum and dad dumped me here so I wasn't their problem anymore?"

     "This place is your second chance," said Kahu, now towering over her as he wagged his pointer finger. "You don't even understand how important you are, and eh maybe that's on my stink sister and your dad but I'm here and I'm raising you now."

He sighed through his nostrils. "Now get this all cleaned up, we've still got kapa haka practice to do and your cousins are waiting downstairs for you."

     "What if I don't want to do it anymore?"

    "Then you have to live with disappointing not just me, but them."

𖦹 omg hi everyone !!! its been so long since ive wrote in general and ive missed it sm but im finally back writing and being active on here. seriously could never give up on this book because the story is my baby and so is ilyshah tūrei. i hope all my readers are still here, if you are just know i cherish you
𖦹 regular updates are now semi back, if my life aligns with all its commitments and inspiration calls to it but midsummers is the next chapter so yk im gonna go feral for everything that entails
𖦹 sosososo much angst here like it sent me insane, spencer and lysh???? he deserved all that was said imo 🗣️ and kie finally warming up to lysh we love to see it
𖦹 as always let me know all your thoughts, comment and vote because it makes my heart sing fr ily guys

Whale Rider ━━ JJ Maybank
Chapter Sixteen, Salt the Earth Behind You
Outerbanks S1 ━━ Ep. 4 Spy Games.