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                        What's it mean when finding it in your sock drawers? I beg for you to tell me once again.. so it's like winning a lottery or finding god in your sock drawer. A blessing to get a good and privileged life as compared to another individuel from the ends of Outer Banks, finding places to work until their muscles are throbbing, very tender as well. But the thing is, how Charlotte envies those who could stay kind and financially literate. It turned her so bitter. With dirt under their fingernails, they aren't terrible people at all. Staying kind, as she would say.

Even when they would've loved to claim her as selfish, a few of them knows, she never has been. Her wishes bets on herself to stay kind to them (kooks) As it lets her anger be flared whenever enraged. Charlotte certainly is not strong enough to react if provoked by everything that's foolish for a reason to be. She tries to remain her kindness and torture in their stead, it does not cease her anger, which is so not fair, almost selvom of deserved.

So irony of all ironies here? She is a dumb Kook. But do mind this, she loathes to say it.

Since Paulina gives birth to a babygirl, naming her Charlotte, as everyone could've seen coming. Strange it was for a young girl to be faster than other kids at such early age. After all she cannot know a oneself thing, not about life, let me tell you. But losing her so generous father comes enough to 'know it all' for a child. As it everyone considers this to be one of the most tragic things: how could life allegedly be worse? Giving out and out as it never gets back to her, that is enfeeble to her. It's stupid and naive, more than she already claims.

Charlotte grunts and runs around with the soccer ball, mumbling words originating from her prejudiced father: "In a world you get what is given. It is not be up for trade, frequently won't ever be."

Yes, he hit the bullseye on that.

Scratching her wet neck from sweat, she carefully said, I have never given enough. If captured in the coating to her memory what layer of him should stay?

Blame's not gonna solve things out, surely. Charlotte is free to blame her mother but it only ever gives her a lumb by the size of a cherry in her throat— anything turned broken in her hands. Can be vileness, whatever, it made her covet to hold something not too long. If she does... Crack it'll say and the pieces stays in her palms. At good brisk— her babyhairs claggy from the sun's heat— she runs across the meadow, playing against something invisible because there's nobody present except for her. Layered with water from the sprinklers, the green is kept by them to not get bleached by the sun's casts of yellow hues down.

Bushes are whispering as the wind is hitting blooming trees to show all kind of peace from Outer Banks' nature and how pretty the concreted houses could actually become, only, when it does its justice.

It gets warmer, but the atmosphere is still growing soft. Adrenaline discovers itself as the cold wind touches her cheek and gives her enough to sprint forward on the green field. At earth green shoots are rising up to trap the brightness coming from above her. Trees had grown taller: so the question is, is there more space enough for her to fit?

I could've been born smaller, I guess... She thinks to herself... I wish to be as small as I want to be right now.

All fo the naked and bloomed trees behind the fence is her audience. Until— somebody interupts the silence from overheads, leaves are like a thrashing to never fall down, which she loves to watch every now and then. Flung out her leather ball returns back under her foot, a voice made her feel disturbed, however.

His footsteps echoes and rings in her lugholes. A male student comes over to her unannounced.

The disembodied voice abuts, "I always happen to see you play soccer here."

God damnnit, of course, it is Rafe Cameron.

His hand is stuffed into his pockets, blue eyes taking in the surroundings that she's so fond of. Pursing his pink lips into a flat line, he removed either of his hands out from being tucked into the jacket's pockets. His eyes wandered over her features, all her soft ones, which reminded her to stop holding a breath she's been holding for how long. Rafe scratches his cheek quietly, the golden ring shined like a diamond when the sun hit the jewelry around his index finger. Charlotte flickers with, if not hatred, but a wellspring of her inscrutable countenance give little away to her distaste.

"I have a habit of playing here. It's a good track." She nods to herself, shielding her eyes from the light with her hand.

"Is it?" His cheek raised upwards, touching the narrowed blue eyes. He chewed on the inner side of his cheek, glancing around, "Hmph, it must be then." Rafe said.

Charlotte laughed. It sounded like a breathless, little gasp of disbelief. "Huh, what do you know about that?" She looks at him, narrowing one of her eyes to have him in eyesight despite the strong sun glares peaking through the blooming trees. "Are you a gardener or what," She lowers her head for him not to look at her like that; with his blue eyes switching between each side of her face, likely drunk of her.

"No." Rafe replied. But when she was to say something, his grating voice cut her thoughts off. "We have people at our house to do the gardering." He brags proudly.

"Mhm, it shows."

"I was, uh," He licks his lips, stammering. Tilting his chin and continues to speak up, "looking for Topper."

"He's not here." Charlotte glances around. In reponse thinking of her shyness self, shaking her head with a wrinkled nose. A brief wind touching her face slightly. "He might be in class, like you should be," She tells him. Rafe raised his brows with surprise, taken aback by her response.

He scratches his left cheek, clenching the eye closed by thought. "Ah," Rafe nodded while biting his bottom lip, then chimes in, "Got it." He gives her a mischievous grin, he replies with, "But I could say the same thing to you, Charlotte." It made her smile, secretly. But only a fool wouldn't have noticed her small, innocent blushes from Rafe... (This isn't her sorta thing) Her green eyes flickered when looking at his charming grin.

She nodded, with her mouth open as the tip of tongue showing her smile that's reaching her stripped green eyes.

"So you do know me," Her eyelashes laying down on her cheek when glancing downwards, looking at the green blades beneath her.

"It's a small island." He doesn't falter, but glanced at her cooly. His smile grows purposely more as he watched her face get more flustered. "Kinda hard to ignore you."

This made her look down, blushing. She doesn't really know what to say, because she never thought she'd be in this position. Standing here, talking to Rafe Cameron— another rude and snobby kook. Or even him flirting with her for that matter.

His hands was stuffed into the pockets of his extortionated jacket. She glares down, furrowing her brows, almost unnoticeable to capture her small gesture. He pulls out a plastic bag that contains white powder in it. "You want?" A line of it. Her eyes was split between the plastic bag and his so carefully curious, blue eyes. He stops himself, shoving the plastic bag more into his pocket, like if she hadn't noticed then. Rafe knows, she had— pouting his lips a bit, still touching the bag with white powder and glanced at her.

"No thanks. I don't do stuff like that."

She smiles as a light breeze gently pushes a lock of silky hair across her face, which she caresses with the back of her hand. Rafe chewed on the inner side of his cheek before his face was falling into a brilliant smirk, secretly taking in her huge green eyes and tries to memorize everything about them. "Alright, so you probably think I'm an addict now?" He laughs to himself.

"You are the stereotype of a kook," Charlotte says firstly.

A flat laugh escaped, "Yeah, you reckon?" He says, guffawning out his last chuckle.

"I know that." She says with a slight cocky tone as the words were rolling off her tongue.

"If you say so, Charlotte." Rafe replied.

"Lottie."

Rafe leaned a little forward, furrowing his brows with a slight confused face. "I'm sorry?"

"I get called Lottie." She was curling her white blouse's left sleeve in the opening to her hands nervously for another reason. "By, like, my friends and stuff." After realizing what she've just said, it made her curse herself out but inside her head, of course.

He starts to nod, taking in the information about her. "And I'm your friend?" Rafe's lips twitch, amused. "Or stuff."

She stops pulling and curling her left sleeve as she returns to a more flustered look since it was a rare feat, because there's much too many that never succeed on bringing out a smile onto his lips— never this easy, either. It made him try to dig, but it was like a barrier, like she's forcing him out of her mind and won't let him phase her, not even the slightest. By a smell of blooming things and touches of cold air, the conversation is slowly dead when Topper Thornton approaches with swinging arms and natural cocky demeanor.

"Hey, man." Topper laughs, planting his hand onto Rafe's shoulder to tremble him for a second with a grin.

He hadn't even noticed her, neither does her bucketlist come across him to notice her. She's had enough of his cockiness itself because if somebody knew about Kook's arrogance and way of thinking, it is Charlotte as misplaced as she's been. Rafe's jaw hung open, chewing on the air and one little breathless laugh escaped. Drifting his eyes over at the shorter girl front of them now, "Who's this?" Topper asks. It made her curse herself out for not leaving before he'd notice her.

"I'm Charlotte." She simply says, trying to ignore how much she hates him for his attitude. Topper lifts his chin, about to give her a nod for her unnecessary friendliness and introduction to him. Rafe looks at her, then back over at his bestfriend. It made her stomach flutter for a second before trying to deny and push this feeling down.

"Alright, come on Topper." He grabs him playfully, grinning. Holding onto Topper's shoulder while they're starting to head the other way, he glances back at her with a smirk adding to his arrogance. But Charlotte trusts his arrogance... More than any of the other people at least.

"It's good to see you Lottie," Rafe finally said and turned back to Topper by his side. The two, wuite taller figures walking away.

She blinks. Her heart beating a little faster now. What the heck was his business in the first place? Talking to her. Yeah, absolutely no way.

It kept her wondering and holds her curiosity to why, like if it never got too far from the line. Did he want to talk with her... It's impossible to find out truly the intention, since it was one out of none. Sucking some air through her teeth with her jaw hanging open, tucking a stray of hair back into her scalptight ponytail. The ball was under her foot, carefully stepped onto, so it wouldn't lunch away from her foot placed down on it. Even thinking about the way he wore a wide grin, that'll remain for a few more seconds: making his eyelids contract around them whenever a slight smirk appearing on the mouth.

A lumb appeared in her throat, she could've felt it right there, standing on the trackfield. Charlotte already loathes this a lot. That stupid one of many more smiles (curse it all out) It was going to owe grand for her naïve self.

Her ignominy, or lose face, is always right.

note: huge applause because i didn't scrap and escaped my misery of finishing the prolouge. but other than that, welcome to wishbone! i really do hope i got everything included and it isn't too confusing to understand. if it is, they meet in march 2019. getting close during their last year of kook academy— you know the drill. i'm sorry if this feels rushed (hope it's just me) but i kinda wanted to get over with this lmao. if there are any grammer or spelling mistakes, so please keep an open mind since english is not my first language. thank you so much for all of the love this story has received, i love you all a lot! with that being said, happy reading!