EDEN was obnoxiously woken up that morning by the tolling of a bell. 

Eden, JJ, and John B. had retreated back to the Chateau after the disaster that was Mike and Anna's party. It had been tensely silent. The Bexley tried to reassure him that what he did was okay, even though it really wasn't. Regardless of how it was Topper, the blonde had been down—you didn't keep punching when someone was down. 

She tried to reassure him that he was okay. That even if Kiara saw him in a new light and Sarah had betrayed him, he still had her and JJ. He'd always have her, regardless of what he did.

The Bexley isn't going to let one fight alter her perception of her best friend like that—she isn't going to look at him with horror like Kiara had, or simply not talk to him like Sarah. Sure, it was scary, watching a boy who she knows for his soft heart and cringe humor beat someone to a pulp, but Eden wasn't going to leave him for a decision of rash anger and hurt. 

But, she might punch him if he rings the bell one more time. 

The trio ended up sleeping out on the Chateau porch, but Eden feels like she barely slept. The minute the sun appeared in the sky to provide its golden glow, a ringing began to echo throughout the Chateau. The ringing of Big John's bell—the bell that was used to bring John B. home every day, one that Eden had in the back of her mind from her childhood days, too. 

Unlike JJ, who managed to snore away despite the ringing, the Bexley ends up getting up. She grabbed herself a joint and moved from where she'd been half crushed by JJ to the rocking chair, curling up. Her tired eyes landed on John B, who stood ringing the bell out by the marsh. Over and over and over again, as if Big John is going to come running through the marsh if he does it enough times.

He always came when he was called by the bell. Why wasn't his dad? 

Eden isn't sure how long she ended up watching the boy ring the bell—the sound had been ricocheting through her head for the last half hour, but she restrained herself from telling him to shut up. The Routledge only stopped when the sun rose a little higher in the early morning sky, a yellow glow cascading on the Chateau as the morning grew deeper.

JJ woke up to the ringing too, looking less than pleased at the Routledge as he scurried back inside of the house. Eden manages a tight lipped smile as he races back into the house, clearly unfazed by the fact that he'd just spent hours ringing a bell. 

Instead, he goes straight into ranting about Topper as if he hadn't done it enough the prior night.

"It's something about the dude's face, you know?" Despite having calmed down, John B. still couldn't believe Topper's words to him. He skates through the porch on a penny board as he rants, the Bexley and Maybank meeting less than half of his energy—JJ's yawning as he speaks.   "Like, the whole, 'No hard feelings, bro'. You know what I'm saying?" 

Eden shrugs, blowing smoke from her lips. "He kind of set himself up by saying that." 

"Yeah, 'No hard feelings'." JJ scoffs, sitting up on the couch.  "It's kinda hard not to have hard feelings about that." 

John B. pictures Topper's face in his head—the stupid fucking smirk that had rested on his lips, the one that practically begged to be knocked off his face. "It's just that....that look. That Kook look, you know?" 

JJ nods in agreement, "It was clear provucation." 

"Provocation." 

"Provocation—" the Maybank corrects, " and, uh, I mean, you had to do what you had to do. No choice about it."

Eden concedes, "It was your turn to beat him up, anyway." 

"Thank you. No choice." the Routledge is pleased to see that at least two of his friends don't think he's crazy for punching Topper. "Anyway, we gotta figure out a plan to get to South America, like, yesterday. I mean, they've got my dad."

John B. disappears around the corner, Eden gets up out of the rocking chair and follows after him. JJ trails behind the two, asking, "You have any food real quick though?"

"So I was thinking passports, right? Only Eden has one, therefore we can't fly commercial." John B. spews as they enter the Chateau. The boy bends down to open the fridge, searching to please JJ's hunger needs. "So, we need other ideas."

JJ wracks his brain for something before offering, "Okay, well, don't you have that money you took from Portis?"

"....I gave that to my dad."

Eden crosses her arms over her chest. Without a plane, there weren't many options on how to travel to a different country. "We could.....boat?"

As she speaks, the Routledge snatches a Pepperoni stick from his fridge. He examines it with his eyes, deeming it okay before sniffing it. His face immediately scrunches up in a gag and he's quick to put it right back into the fridge—much to Eden's dismay. 

The Bexley comes forward, opening the fridge. She cringes back at the scent that leaves it—it hasn't been cleaned out in a month, and any food that was left inside before Poguelandia was clearly expired or rotten—and picks up the seemingly bad Pepperoni stick. "Don't just put it back in there, you dumbass—"

"Yo, Eden's that's smart. If we got a boat maybe we could get down there 'cause the HMS.....yeah, you know about the HMS." JJ crosses over towards the fridge, examining the interior as he suggests, "Oh, Limbrey! Limbrey has a boat! What if we took that one down?" 

The Maybank returns to his full height, displeased with the fridge selection. However, he spots the stick in Eden's hands and quickly snatches it, taking a bite without a second thought. 

The Bexley instinctively goes to take the rotten food away from his mouth—like a mother stopping her child from eating a bug—but she realizes he's already taken a bite of it and groans, "Ew, JJ!"

"What?" the Maybank asks, words muffled because of the food halfway down his throat.

"That had to have expired a month ago." 

"So?"

"So—"

"Yeah, no, she took that back." the Routledge continues, oblivious to what was happening in front of him. "And the HMS is not gonna make it down to the Port of Spain, so out on the boats." 

JJ continues to chew, the Bexley continuing to stare in utter disgust. John B. had physically gagged at that—how was he eating it? 

"So, what you're saying is...." JJ swallows, processing what John B. had said. "We don't got any money, and we also don't have a boat that can make it to South America. Great."

As the Maybank chews, the Routledge catches glimpse of the pepperoni stick in his grasp and comes over, craning his neck to make sure he was seeing right. He'd just gagged on that—how the hell was his best friend shoving it down his throat? 

John B. shakes his head at the sight. "Unbelievable." 

JJ tilts his head. "Actually, I might know a guy.....I'm on to something."

"Uh-oh." 

"Who even says uh-oh—" Eden furrows her brows as she's yanked down to the kitchen floor, the Routledge's hand wrapped around her wrist. She opens her mouth to ask what was happening, but takes John B.'s raised finger to his mouth as her cue to stay silent. 

"You don't start with uh-oh, dude." Back turned to his friends, JJ doesn't seem to realize anything has happened, continuing to speak. "You're so negative, bro—"

The Routledge lunges forward and pulls the Maybank down beside him and the Bexley, "Get down, get down—"

"What?"

In a tight whisper, John B. reveals, "Shoupe is out front right now." 

Eden cringes at the reveal. She isn't surprised Shoupe is here—Topper's parents were quick to file a charge against Pope for sinking the boat, why wouldn't they for the Routledge leaving their son bloody and unconscious? 

However, John B. can't afford to be taken into any form of custody. He needs to get to South America. 

There's a tense silence between the trio. JJ tries to peer out the window while slowly shutting the refrigerator door.

"Alright, John B!"

At the ringing of Shoupe's voice, JJ and John B. startle to life once more. The fridge slams closed and the boys start scrambling around on their hands and knees. Eden is quick to follow, crawling behind them as they searched for somewhere hidden.

"Shit!"

"Come on." 

"What are you—"

"Yo-hoo! Anybody home?" Shoupe echoes, nearing the Chateau. "John B?!"

"Get under the table." Eden orders in a tight whisper, like a stern mother.  Her eye twitches towards a small and low sitting table behind them—it would be a tight fit for the three, but they couldn't run in front of the door. "Get under the fucking table."

Like mad men, the two boys smack at each other, clambering for the table. John B. goes first, slamming his head against the top of it—him and JJ are both two tall to be hiding under it. JJ slides in next, the Routledge pressing against the leg of the table so there's room.

"Shit!"

"Come on—scoot, scoot!"

Eden barely gets time to process how she's going to squeeze in when JJ grabs a hold of her ankle and yanks her towards him and John B. She's pulled somewhere up against them, legs cramped and body twisted. Knees are wrapped around ankles and chests are against chests. 

Shoupe's knuckles wrap against the window right above the table. "Alright, John B, I know you're in there!"

JJ tugs John B.'s leg inwards even further and the table rattles. Eden can barely breath but she can't even yell at whoever is elbowing her rib cage.  John B.'s hair falls against his face as he breathes, "Shut up. Shut up." 

There's a sharp knock on the door, Shoupe having made his way up. The trio scrunches even tighter together, not wanting to risk the sheriff catching them—they couldn't get to South America if John B. was put in the system for his violence against Topper. 

"If he sees you, it's game over." JJ whispers. 

"I know, I know, okay, JJ?" John B. scoffs through gritted teeth.

"Don't get that—"

"Oh my God, you guys suck at this!" Eden snips, eyes wide. What did they not understand about hiding? "Shut the fuck up!" 

 "I know you can hear me in there. You need to come out and talk to me. It'll be a whole lot worse if you don't." Shoupe echos, pausing for a moment. Of course, no one speaks and the sheriff must finally give up because the screen door creaks closed and an audible sigh is heard. "Okay." 

It's a tense moment of silence. 

"Okey doke. Have it your way!" Shoupe yells out, the click of a car door following.  An engine starts and he finalizes, "You know where you can find me!"

There's a few seconds of silence as the three Pogues listen to wheels crunching against the driveway. As it starts to grow lighter, JJ mutters, "Alright, let's peel."

Eden manages to get herself untangled from the boys, legs expressing relief at the ability to stretch again. She rises up, watching as John B. and JJ follow suit.

"Come on." John B. urges, uncomfortably hunched. He puts his hands on JJ's ass, shoving him forward. "Go." 

"Alright. I got a plan, alright? I think it might work." JJ decrees as he stands up and grabs the Twinkie keys. As John B. struggles to climb out, back slamming against the table, the Maybank proceeds to state his idea, "It's a little sketchy, you might not like it and you—" he points the keys towards Eden, who puts her hands on her hips. "—really won't like it, but I think it will work."

"Not a great way to state a plan, dude." Eden steps in front of the boy before he can run outside, sending him a knowing expression. A plan that JJ came up with in the five seconds they were hidden couldn't be good—especially if she wasn't going to like it. "What is it?" 

JJ reasons, "If I tell you now when the plan is half-baked, you're gonna get all negative."

"Uh, I would settle for a quarter-baked plan." John B. offers, also wanting to hear what JJ had come up with. 

Eden asks, "It's sketchy as shit, isn't it?" 

"Nya, nya, nya—there's no time to play mom and dad. Come on. Now." JJ brushes right past the Bexley, keys in hand as he expects his friends to tow along.

John B. follows, "Don't you dare make that noise at me."

"You give us no choice but to play mom and dad, JJ!" Eden runs after her best friends, hoping that the Maybank actually knew what he was doing. They had no time to waste. 

JJ takes them to Rockfish. 

Very locally known bar down on the Cut, though it isn't known for anything good. It's usually in the news for drunk fights, late night tussles in which police intervention is necessary. Majority of customers stand on the sketchy side.

"Oh, perfect." John B. sarcastically states as the Twinkie rolls to a stop in front of the run-down place, "Rockfish. Yep. The place you go to bash beer bottles on people's heads. Love that for us—"

"There's a guy here." JJ interrupts, holding up a finger to state his case. "That's always here—moves a lot of weight. My dad worked for him." 

"Oh, great. You're dad worked for him—definitely a good dude." Eden nods along, unamused. By weight, she can only assume JJ is speaking of drugs—hard drugs. And if Luke Maybank worked for him, he certainly had to be just as much of an asshole. She opens the back door to get out, cheering, "Let's get involved with drug dealers, again!" 

"Loving the enthusiasm, Ed'." JJ opens his car door and gets out, glancing at the Routledge beside him to insist, "Come on now. If Eden can do it, so can you."

John B.'s face falls in realization, and he looks as if he wants to bash his head against the steering wheel. There was only one man he could think of, a man he hoped that JJ wasn't here to meet with. "No, no, wait, wait—please don't say 'Barracuda Mike.'"

JJ shrugs. "Okay, I won't." 

Barracuda Mike was a well known personality within the Cut for his dealings of drugs. Whatever you needed, he could get—with a price, of course. Barry was a mere plankton compared to him on the dealer chain.  A hell of a lot less threatening, too. 

"Eden, you cannot be letting him do this." John B. looks as her, as if expecting her to go and reign JJ back in. 

"It's either he goes in there alone, or he goes in there with surpervision." The Bexley offers a mere shrug and continues walking towards the bar—she's surprised she isn't intervening. But, if Barracuda Mike was what got Big John back, it's worth it. She'd do anything to make sure John B. stayed happy, even if it meant working with the drug dealer. 

The Routledge doesn't seem to like that answer and quickly rushes out of the car, scrambling for the entrance. He tries to reason with his friend as they walk in, "Come on, there's gotta be a better option than this."

"Oh, you know what? You're right. There is a better option." JJ drawls, the Routledge looking at him with hope before he reveals the sarcasm of his words, "Except there's not, alright, dude? Seriously we don't have a lot of time, and your dad needs help right now, and this guy—" the trio halts and JJ points at a big man hauling in fish. "—is gonna be the key to getting down to South America ASAP." He offers, "Besides, if Eden can agree with this, so can you." 

"It's not so much agreeing with the whole Barracuda Mike idea, it's more so agreeing with the fact that no matter what we do, we aren't getting to South America legally." Eden states. If JJ was sure Barracuda Mike could get them to South America, why not at least test the plan out? "Having him help us wouldn't be the sketchiest thing we've ever done." 

"Exactly, bro. Trust me on this one." JJ says before beginning to tip-toe forward, "Just let me do the talking, alright?"

John B. doesn't say anything and the Maybank takes that as his cue to lead. He starts treading for Barracuda Mike, Eden and the Routledge following behind him. 

"Yo, Mike! Yo!" JJ makes his presence known, the big man turning around to show the knife he's holding and the unimpressed look on his face. "You remember me, right? It's on the tip of your tongue J....JJ—"

Barracuda Mike cuts in, "Luke's son."

"That works too. Uh, also go by JJ, but um...." the Maybank trails off as Barracuda Mike pierces his knife into the wood in front of him. His hand reaches John B.'s shoulder and he turns the brunette around so he's facing Mike. "This here is my good friend, John B."

John B. shoves his hands in his pockets, greeting the man as nonchalant as he can. "Hey."

Gruffly, Barracuda Mike exclaims, "Routledge." 

"In the flesh." the Routledge awkwardly nods, barely holding eye contact with the man. "Yep."

"Heard stories about you two." 

"....Uh-oh." 

"I mean, he's a stone cold cop k...." JJ starts to spew about Peterkin's shooting, but his eyes get caught on the large black man who's appeared beside him with firmly crossed arms and his words die. "....killer."

John B.'s chill expression has been wiped off at the Maybank's lie. Eyes wide, he swallows.  "No, I'm not." 

Eden wants to smack her head against the wall. 

"And, I mean you gotta recognize her already but this is the lovely Eden Bexley." JJ bounces back, clapping his hands together before wrapping an arm around the Bexley. She's not sure how being introduced to the drug dealer is doing them any good. It's truly wasting them time, if she's honest.

"Bexley, huh?" Mike's gruff voice rumbles, eyes trailing over to the shorter girl. He sizes her up, his gaze lingering a bit too long for comfort, though Eden just stares at him right back. "Didn't think I'd be seeing anyone from that family down here."

Eden keeps her tone neutral, "Well, there's a first time for everything." 

It's tensely silent. Awkward, really. 

JJ decides it's best to get right down to the point, "Mike, I'm gonna be honest about why we're here, okay? We're a little bit in a....a patch of trouble, and we're trying to get down to South America if that's—"

Barracuda Mike cuts him off, "I'm sorry, slick, but I done sold the travel agency." 

"Well, I mean, look...we're not looking for some free handout here, alright? We understand it's a two way road, alright?" JJ awkwardly chuckles, intertwining his hands and holding them up for Mike to see. "Symbiotic relationship." 

John B. nods along, "Yes, yes." 

"That's what we're trying to get at. We just need to parlee—"

"Parley." John B. corrects, "Parley is what he's saying."

"Parley in, um...in private, if that's cool with you." JJ glances back for  a moment before returning to meet Mike's gaze, hoping the man gave him a shot.  

Barracuda Mike points to the deck, parting from his group to go out and wait for the blonde boy. 

The Maybank murmurs to his friends, "Just stay here."

John B. shakes his head, "No, you're not gonna do this—"

 "Just stay here."

"You're not gonna leave us here—"

The man who'd been standing cross armed next to the Maybank steps so he's standing right in front of him, the blonde running into him as he tries to follow Mike. He towers over JJ by a lot, but the boy just brushes past, "Excuse you. Alright...." 

As JJ leaves, the two men who'd been standing with Mike shift their gazes to Eden and John B. The Bexley felt smaller than ever compared to these six foot something men, her hands reaching down to tug at her jean shorts as they eyed her and the Routledge up. 

John B. turns around, pulling the Bexley with him. Instinctively, he steps closer to Eden, his hand brushing against her arm as if silently checking that she was alright. The Bexley brushes back to signal she was fine. 

"This is sketchy as hell," John B leans into to murmur under his breath, eyes cautiously scanning the room. "I don't like this, Ed'."

Eden doesn't look at any of the men, keeping her gaze set forward. "Just play it cool," she whispers back, her voice steady but low. "JJ knows what he's doing. We've been in worse situations."

"I am playing it cool." the Routledge tightly whispers.

"Not cool enough." Eden replies, before turning around to face the men with a rather fake smile on her face. She hopes JJ comes back soon. "So, what do ya'll catch around here, hm?" 

The man who'd blocked JJ answers. "Money." 

"That's cool." Eden nods, improving the conversation. She cranes her neck to see JJ and Barracuda Mike still talking. "I love money."

The man standing behind the counter chuckles, "That's 'cause you're made of it, sweetheart." 

Eden's smile falters just slightly at the man's comment, but she quickly recovers. John B. thins his lips, "Okay..."

"5:30."

"5:30 tonight. We'll be there. Yes, sir!" 

JJ and Barracuda Mike come back, the Maybank vibrating with energy to signal that some kind of deal had been struck. The blonde comes back to snatch his best friends, John B. sending the men a small, "Anyways, nice to meet you, fellas—"

"Hey, let's go." JJ tugs the Routledge by his shirt, "Come on."

Eden doesn't say anything and follows after the Maybank, the trio silent until they reach the outside of the bar. Once out of earshot from other people, John B. is quick to ask, "Okay. So what do we gotta do?"

JJ casually replies, "Just a little something."

"A little something?"

"Yeah, just a little something—"

"You just made a deal with Barracuda Mike. It's not just a little something when it comes to drug dealers." Eden deadpans, glancing up at the Maybank. They were going to do something, and the Bexley already sensed it would include participating in moving drugs around, or dealing with them hands on.

JJ tsks, "Negative, negative—"

"I'm literally stating facts, JJ." 

John B. can't help but feel unsure about this 'little something'. Not only were they working with a drug dealer, but it was never just a little something when it came to JJ. "Yeah, no, anytime you say it's a little something, it's never a little something—"

"It's literally the easiest job in the world, guys." JJ halts, looking between the two other teens. The Routledge groans. "We just unload it. You know what they do on planes? You know on Delta and United when they just take the bags off of the—" He mimics un-hauling bags from a conveyor belt. "That's what we're doing. Okay?" 

Eden crosses her arms, "Except, instead of luggage it's drugs, JJ. Drugs." 

"Yeah, but you literally smoke weed, Ed'. You're already part of the drug world. This is just, like, a step up." the Bexley opens her mouth to disagree with his statement, but JJ keeps talking, "Besides, once we do that, we punch our tickets and go on to South America sipping on piña coladas, alright?"

The Maybank heads to the passenger seat, sitting down. Eden and John B. don't follow, still hesitant. The Bexley trusts that JJ knows what he's doing with Barracuda Mike, but she can't help but feel like this won't end well. They'd struck a deal with the drug dealer, and if something went wrong, it certainly wouldn't end well. 

"It's gonna be a piece of cake." JJ finalizes, before chucking the Twinkie keys at his best friend. John B. fumbles to catch them, keychains jingling as they hit his palm. "You're driving."

Eden gets into the car, sighing, "I better get my fucking piña colada." 

THE three Pogues hop out of the Twinkie to help Barracuda Mike unload whatever stash he'd got flown in.

Eden isn't sure where they are, but John B. follows JJ's directions and the Twinkie ended up parked in the middle of nowhere—no drug dealer is doing business in the wide open. She slides the side door open and hops out, white Converse sticking out amongst the bright green grass.

"I....I don't know about this." the Routledge had yet to fully trust the plan. Unlike Eden, who took a silent reserve over arguing with JJ over whether or not it was right to do this, John B. was still a mess of nerves over working with Barracuda Mike. Something wasn't right.

JJ sighs, "Bro, you're worrying way too much about this, okay? It is just farmers who brought organic seeds from South America that we are gonna unload."

"Yeah, yeah—why don't you just call it what it is?" John B. counters as they continue to walk through the grass. Eden brushes past the boys, not wanting to get caught up in their bickering. "It's a drug smuggling operation." 

"Do you want to get your dad or not?"

"Yes, I do! Okay?" John B. exclaims, trying to get JJ to understand his point. He couldn't afford for this to end up a sketchy mess—they needed to get down to South America. "Look, this has to work out, alright? I doubted him, and I blamed him, and all this time he was just trying to protect me and now he's been abducted, dude, so I kinda need a little bit of a game plan—"

"John B, no! Okay, listen—listen." The blonde boy grabs a hold of his brother's shoulders, halting both of their steps. Eden turns around, hands on her hips as she listened to what he had to say to get the Routledge to stop ranting. "I know. But you know who you're gonna have to trust right now?" JJ jabs a finger into his own chest. "Papa J." 

Eden cringes at the nickname. John B looks away, not wanting another talk about who to trust.

"Okay? I got this, 100%." 

The two boys start walking again. John B mutters, "I mean, 60% would be good, honestly."

"Never call yourself Papa J again, please and thank you?" Eden keeps walking, glancing back at the blonde boy.

JJ shrugs, "Mama Eden, Papa J, Little Boy Booker—" 

John B.'s face scrunches up and he struts forward, "Hey, no, I am not Little boy Booker—"

"That's so fitting." Eden's lips quirk upwards teasingly as she muses, "Little Boy Booker." 

"Oh, you guys fucking suck."

JJ puts a hand over his heart, feigning shock. "Such language from Little Boy Booker." 

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Eden continues to tease. 

John B. fires back, "The only little thing here is you, Ed'." 

"It's not my fault you're a fucking giant?" the Bexley retorts, Converse scuffing the grass.

"I'm not a giant, you're just an elf." 

"No, you're literally a giant who looks like they got lost in a thrift store."

 John B's jaw dropped in exaggerated offense. "What did you just say?" 

"I said—"

 Eden's words morph into a yelp as the Routledge boy jogs up to her, scooping her clean off the ground with ease. With little effort, the boy throws her over his shoulder and continues to walk forward. Instinctively, the Bexley writhes and starts to lightly slap his shoulder with her fists, though her face holds a real smile. 

As he feels her fists hitting his shoulder, John B. calls out, "You wanna say that again?"

"John B, put me down!" Eden yells, laughter covering any sort of sternness she tries to have in her tone. She tries and to pry herself free, but the Routledge did the opposite, proceeding to stride forward with her over his shoulder. 

"You should've thought about that before trashing my impeccable style," John B. shrugged, re-hoisting her up as she flailed in his grasp.

"John B!" the Bexley cried out, "I swear, I'll—"

"You'll what?" the Routledge cut her off, grinning. "You're not doing shit from up there."

"I'll hit your back so hard you get scoliosis—"

JJ manages a smile as he watches, shoving his hands in his pockets. He's glad that even after everything the Pogues have been through, the Routledge and the Bexley are still okay. They've always been okay. 

For as long as the Maybank can remember, John B had been his best friend—his brother in everything but blood. They practically lived together, had each other's backs regardless of the shitty decision that had been made, drank and schemed together. John B. was his best friend.

But, JJ knew he wasn't John B's best friend. Eden was. 

JJ didn't resent it, really. He knew that John B. would turn to Eden first. That was okay.  

The Routledge and the Bexley helped each other in ways, understood each other, despite their totally different backgrounds. They were family, siblings, ride or dies, platonic soulmates—whatever. She asked for him when she had panic attacks. He always looked for her first. There was something between them that the Pogues all knew better than to get in the middle of. 

"Holy shit," John B.'s voice cuts through JJ's thoughts. The brunette boy finally lowers Eden, who sends him a final elbow jab to the rips as her Converse touch grass again. "Look at that thing..."

Eden and JJ both look forward to see a giant plane standing in front of them. It was huge, rusted over with different browns and oranges.

"Yeah, dude." JJ muses, coming forward to walk in line with his two best friends. "It's like an RV with wings."

The trio treads through the thick grass, knowing they're in the right place.  Eden cranes her neck to look past it, watching as different men load bags full of weed into a U-Haul, Barracuda Mike watching the scene.  Her brows furrowed....they were supposed to be the ones loading.

Eden looks between her friends and the U-Haul. "Uh, is it just me or are they already unloading without us?" 

"Oh shit.." JJ breathes before running past the plane to speak with Barracuda Mike. John B. and Eden jog forwards to follow him as he yells, "Yo! We aren't late, are we?"

"No." Barracuda Mike gruffly states, jingling a set of keys.  He walks forward to meet with the three teens. "There was a change of plan, though."

JJ's face falls, "Oh, uh, okay..." 

Barracuda Mike outstretched his hands to hand the Maybank the set of keys he'd been holding, "You three are gonna drive the truck up to Elizabeth City to make the drop." 

Eden feels her lips thin—why didn't they expect this? Why had they expected to merely help unload drugs? They should have known they would end up handing them off, or doing something larger. 

JJ and John B. make eye contact as the older man talks. Unloading was one thing, but actually hauling the drugs? That could get them into more trouble than it was worth doing. 

"The address is in the truck." Barracuda Mike informs, not expecting the three to back out or even question the shift in plan. "There'll be a dummy car for you to use to come back. The plane'll still be waiting."

"Right. Okay, so um...." JJ trails off, looking down at his boots. This was the only shot they had at getting to South America for free, but it didn't seem as worth it as it had when they were just helping un-haul. "You just want us to drive the truck?"

"Correct."

JJ reaches up to take the keys from Barracuda Mike but Eden is quick to step forward, sending the drug dealer a tight lipped smile. "I'm just gonna borrow these two for one second, if you don't mind." 

Mike steps back, offering a moment of conversation between the trio. 

 The Bexley spares him another glance before pushing both boys back so she can try to reason that maybe they found another way. If they were caught driving a U-Haul full of weed, they would done for.

Eden's smile drops the moment she's out of earshot from Mike and her voice is low as she states, "Okay, the idea of unloading wasn't bad, but we can't do this. Driving the truck—that's not what we signed up for. And it's not something we can risk doing."

"I agree—this is way more dangerous." John B. is quick to agree, looking at JJ. 

"It doesn't matter what we talked about." Barracuda Mike seems to have heard the conversation, the three Pogues turning to look at his figure as he spoke. "You in for a penny, you in for a pound. You do this, you get your ride."

"Yeah except that penny was a completely different currency than this pound." Eden fires, staring up at the older man with firm eyes. "We agreed to unload. Not to haul your shit across the island."

Barracuda Mike steps up, towering over the young girl. "You think this is some kind of game, princess? You don't know how this works, and I'd hate for you to find out the hard way today."

Eden grits her teeth together. JJ can see her fists clenching and quickly steps in front of her before she can open her mouth and fire back. He stares hard at Mike, whose gaze doesn't falter. The rest of his men firmly observe the three Pogues. The tension is thick—the Maybank has a feeling they have to do the job now. 

"Now, Highway Patrol is changing shifts as we speak." Barracuda Mike continues speaking, "This is the window. Take it to the drop house on Prospect. Directions are in the truck." He chuckles, "Any luck, we'll have you back before sundown." 

JJ doesn't take the keys.

"Come on." Mike urges, his eyes narrowing with an almost threatening nature as he grits, "Take the keys."

Tension hangs thick in the air, all eyes on JJ. The Maybank doesn't have much of a choice—he can tell it won't be pretty if he doesn't take the keys. And while he's willing to get in trouble, he's not willing to put Eden or John B. in that position. And they really needed this plane ride. 

JJ snatches the keys with a grunt of, "Yeah, no problem."

Eden's hands itch to snatch the keys away and her eyes flare incredulously at JJ, but John B. is quick to wrap his hand around her wrists to keep her in place before she ends up attacking Barracuda Mike. 

The Bexley whines, "JJ—"

"Get in the truck, Eden." 

Eden's eyes narrowed in stubborn defiance, and for a second, she looked like she was ready to throw herself into the argument all over again. JJ gave her a hard stare, yet she didn't move from her spot. 

"Get in the truck," JJ repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He wasn't about to let her get involved any more than she already was—she didn't need to make enemies with Barracuda Mike. They needed this plane ride. 

The Bexley realizes she won't be winning and rips her hand out of John B.'s grasp, storming off towards the U-Haul with a mutter of, "Like hell no problem."

The blonde comes up and shuts the back of the truck, shielding the drugs from public view. John B. sends JJ a weary glance but follows after Eden, lips sealed. He finds her in the passenger seat, and squeezes in beside her—unless one of them wanted to sit with the drugs, this would have to work.

The Maybank gets in next and waves to Mike before starting the U-Haul. Eden crosses her arms over her chest as the engine rumbles to life. John B. looks out the window, trying to ignore the tension between his friends.

He agreed with Eden. Doing this wasn't what they agreed too, and was a hell of a lot more dangerous. 

JJ drives out of the field and back into the road, passing by green trees—at the moment, it's an empty road. They get about five minutes into the road when John B. finally speaks up amongst the tension between his friends, "Do you have any idea what's in the back of this truck?"

The Maybank's grip tightened on the wheel. "Yes, John B, I know what's in the back of this truck right now—"

Eden sarcastically snaps, "You can't smell the weed?" 

"Eden, I would appreciate just an ounce—" JJ lifts a hand off the wheel to squeeze two fingers  together, irritated. "—of support from you right now. It's gonna be fine—it's gonna work out, okay?" 

John B. is tired of trusting the Maybank and his shit plans. He would do anything else to get to South America—he wishes he'd agreed with Eden over trying to convince Tom to get them tickets. At least then he wouldn't be hauling thousands of dollars worth of drugs illegally. "I am sick of your bullshit plans, man." 

JJ seethes, "Goddamn." 

"No, I'm just saying this might actually top the time you told me to fake appendicitis in jail." 

"Yeah, and that almost worked—"

Eden scoffs, "No, I had to speed through Kildare to find your ass halfway to jail in the back of an ambulance." 

"Eden, either swap sides with John B, or be useful and get the map out. I have no idea where I'm going."

The Bexley looks out the window. "No." 

"Oh my God." John B. reaches over the Bexley to grab the book of directions, already tired of whatever was happening between JJ and Eden. The Maybank turns a corner and he rips a map from the book. "Alright, we need to get to one-fifty-eight, okay?" 

The Routledge tries to place the map in front of JJ, the Maybank instead snatching it from his grasp. "Just give me—"

"It's this one, man. You just ripped it out."

"Jesus Christ." JJ puts the map onto the wheel and glances between it and the road, trying to read directions. "There it is....it's gonna be nice—"

"Cop." 

The word makes Eden turn her head back towards the windshield, lips thinning. True enough, the Bexley doesn't even have to squint to see a cop cruiser parked to the side, chatting to another car that had been pulled over. 

"JJ. JJ, there is—there's a cop." 

Somehow, the Maybank still seems lost in the directions. Eden slaps his arm harshly, "You deaf ass fucker, there's a cop." 

The blonde looks up, quickly crinkling the map closed. "Shit." 

"Okay, play it cool, alright?" John B. says, straightening up. Out of everyone, he's the one who needs to play it cool. "Eden, hide, it's illegal that we're sharing a seat."

Eden tries to slump down. "Um..."

"Play it cool."

JJ reports, "No, you're not cool. You're the one who's not cool."

"I'm super cool—I'm super cool." 

"I'm as cool as it gets, alright?" 

The Maybank mimics a wave, as if trying to practice. John B.'s face falls, "What are you doing? Don't do that." 

"I'm just—" JJ holds his hand up stiffly, trying to look casual. "I"m just gonna wave."

Eden groans, "JJ, don't wave that literally makes you look suspicious."

They pass by the cop cruiser, the officer turning to look at the U-Haul. The blonde raises his hands, John B stammers, "JJ—"

"Hi, officer." JJ waves, a warm smile rising on his face.

The Routledge is quick to react, immediately tugging JJ's hand down. What the hell was he thinking, drawing attention in a U-Haul—one of the most suspicious vehicles you could be trying? "What are—I told you—"

By ripping JJ's hand down, the Maybank ends up tugging on the wheel wrong. The tires screech against the road, the U-Haul lurching to the side. Eden cringes as they make contact with trees before sliding back into the normal lane. So much for not drawing attention.

Eyes wide, JJ whips around to roar, "Why would touch me!?"

"Don't wave at cops!" John B. snaps back in his own defense, "Rule number one of driving a U-Haul!"

Eden groans, "God, both of you are so stupid!"

"Five minutes." the Routledge states, trying to contain himself. "We've been in the car for five minutes—"

"He's getting in." JJ abruptly states, glancing out the rear view mirror. 

Eden wants to bash her head against the horn. "We're cooked." 

"No, no, we're cool." John B. reassures, though he isn't sure whether he's trying to calm down himself or his friends. "Just act very, very, calm." 

Sirens start wailing, signaling that the cop was on their tail. Eden squeezes her eyes closed and clenches her fists. God, they were completely over if this cop caught them—three seventeen year olds illegally hauling drugs. One of which is already wanted for assault. 

"Shit, he's coming! He's coming! Shit—damn it!" JJ starts to freak out, crumpling the map. He discards it onto the floor and his mind works at a million miles a minute trying to figure out their best way out of this. "Guys, goblin mode, alright? We gotta loose him, okay?"

John B's eyes widen in utter panic, head whipping around as he guffaws, "Goblin mode? What does that even mean, JJ!?" 

"Yeah, that's what we gotta do! Hang on—hang on!"

Eden's pulse races. She doesn't even want to know what the hell goblin mode is, but whatever it's supposed to mean sounds reckless as hell. Instinctively, she grabs on to the Routledge's arm for dear life. 

"I got this!" JJ roughly yells.

One of John B.'s hands reaches for the window while the other is quickly wrapping around Eden. "JJ—"

Before anything else can be yelled out, the Maybank sharply swerves the U-Haul off the main road. The tires screech and start rolling down dirt into a ditch, the Maybank slamming the brake as they roll into overgrown grass and trees, leaves dangling over the truck.

"Alright, get out!" JJ throws his door open, "Go, go, go!"

John B. didn't need to be told twice—he leapt out of the U-Haul, adrenaline fueling his every move. Eden followed suit, sliding out as fast as she could and slamming the door shut behind her with a loud thunk. Sirens wailed in the distance, creeping closer by the second, and the trio took off, sprinting away from the truck and down a narrow trail leading into the woods.

As they ran, John B. shot a glare in JJ's direction, barely keeping his voice steady through his rapid breaths. "Dude, I swear to God, if we get through this, I'm gonna kill you."

JJ brushes into branches as they jog down a trail, "Well, you probably won't have to because Barracuda Mike is gonna kill us first!"

Trailing behind the two boys, Eden can't help but throw in, "I'm killing both of you before we even get to the Twinkie!"

The three Pogues run for a solid fifteen minutes before they reach the Twinkie—it didn't help that none of them knew where they exactly were.

The sirens died down eventually, but Eden, John B., nor JJ slowed down. By the time they manage to loop around and find the van parked where they left it, their chests are heaving and their legs ache. However, the anger within hasn't seemed to have died down in the slightest. 

The Bexley slows, bending down to put her hands on her knees. God, she was sick of running. For the past month, she feels as if she hasn't gotten a chance to breath—she's always running from something, someone. 

"My dad is somewhere in South America right now." John B. pants, JJ copying Eden's position in front of him to catch his breath. "Probably—probably with a knife to his throat, and what are we doing? Moving weight? In goblin mode?" He scoffs, "What—what does that even mean, JJ?!"

JJ whips around to snap,"How many times will you complain about me trying to save your dad?!"

 He gets his ideas are shitty—it's his fault that they were currently one step further from getting to South America at the moment—but he's sick of John B. acting like he isn't trying. For the past day, he's put his problems on hold to focus on saving Big John, his dad.  He's trying. 

Eden straightens slightly, eyes flicking between the two. She could see it—the exhaustion, the frustration. JJ's temper was always quick to flare, but right now, his patience was paper-thin, and John B.'s constant disapproval of everything he had to offer wasn't helping. 

John B. retorts, "Help is the exact opposite of what you're doing right now!" 

 "You know what? You're right." the Maybank backs down for a moment, pacing towards his best friend with a dominant demeanor. "You're absolutely right. But you know who's fault that is? You and your treasure obsessed father."

That seems to be the final straw for John B., the brunette quickly shoving his brother backwards. 

Eden frowns, "John B." 

"No, no, it's chill, Ed'. Relax." JJ laughs, amused at the sudden action from the Routledge. He stares at him with a smile. "That's where we're going, huh?"

John B.'s jaw sets firmly. "Yeah, that's where we're going."

"Yeah." JJ struts forward, shoving the Routledge back with a little more force to urge him on. "And it looks like we just went there, too—"

They had so much better to be doing than shoving each other around like little kids on a playground. Eden scolds, "JJ." 

The Routledge shoves back, and within seconds, the two boys are tousling around with each other. John B. wraps his arms around JJ and shoves him down, the latter grunting, "That's it! I've been waiting for this!"

"Boys, seriously?" the Bexley watches as they collapse onto the ground, un-amusement and almost embarrassment present in her gaze. Were they seriously going to do this here? She was used to their brawls that usually held more bark than bite—more just wearing each other out rather than actually hurting—but they never got less awkward to watch.

As the two boys flailed at each other like awkward baby deer, limbs tangling and punches missing their marks, Eden rolls her eyes and turns around, head shaking in disbelief—if anyone asks, she doesn't know them. 

Given the two boys were currently brawling—JJ's grunting for the Routledge to get off him, the prior topping him so he's pinned down—the Bexley is the only one to notice the familiar cop cruiser that approaches. 

 Shoupe's cruiser.

"Shit," Eden mutters under her breath, briefly shooting a glance at the boys, who stay locked in their scrappy, ridiculous fight. John B. was holding JJ down, the Maybank outstretching an arm to push his friend away, back still on the ground. 

Shoupe gets out of his vehicle, watching the scene. 

The Bexley offers him a wave, "Hi, Shoupe." 

"Good afternoon, Eden," the Sheriff drawls, before putting a hand in his window to wail the sirens. The sound seems to finally gain the attention of the two boys, who dart up with wide eyes. "Howdy, boys!"

JJ and John B. scramble to get up, awkwardly adjusting themselves to speak with the sheriff. 

The Routledge tugs his shorts down. "'Sup, Shoupe."

"You boys okay?" 

"Yeah, we're, uh...you know, just uh..." John B. tries to grab ahold of JJ's arm to show that they're just playing around, but the Maybank slaps him away. "We're....we're good." 

Shoupe crouches down, ripping something off of the Twinkie. Eden holds back a scoff as the sheriff holds up his hand to reveal a beeping tracker. He'd tracked them all day. 

"Tracker." Shoupe smiles, "Make's it a lot easier to keep an eye on you hoodlums."

Eden crosses past the man so she's beside her friends. As she does so, Shoupe's radio comes through, "All units, evidence team is en route to the abandoned U-Haul. Over."

The Bexley tries not to tense at the mention of the truck. Act cool. 

Shoupe grabs his radio. "Copy that."

"Sounds like duty calls." JJ tries to get themselves out of the situation, walking forward. "So, you know, we wouldn't want to hold you up."

John B. nods, "Yeah.."

"We'll get out of your hair."

Shoupe holds out a hand before they can escape, eyes narrowing in on the trio. "Hold on a minute. We just found a U-Haul full of drugs out near one-fifty-eight. Ya'll wouldn't happen to be involved in that, would you?" 

JJ and John B. look at each other briefly, but Eden doesn't break her poker face. Instead, she cocks her head to the side with an expression of mock offense on her face. "Is that profiling, Sheriff?"

John B., catching on quickly, nodded along,  "Seriously, Shoupe?"

"Did you just accuse Eden Bexley of moving drugs?" JJ chimes in, looking at the older man as if he were insane for not only accusing them, but Eden of transporting drugs. "I think that's a felony right there, man." He chuckles awkwardly, "We're not that desperate, alright?" 

Shoupe stands, unamused. He was tired of these kids. 

 "I can't believe you, Shoupe. Do you seriously think just because we're Pogues, we're dealing drugs?" Eden leans into the performance, hiding her smile as she continues her tangent. "Like his—" she jabs a thumb at John B. "—dad just got back to the island—why would we be transporting drugs right now? We have better things to do."

 Shoupe zeros in on the Routledge. "Better things like beating people up and breaking up parties."

John B.'s face falls. JJ quickly steps in to defend his best friend, "Okay, Shoupe, there's an explanation—"

"I hate to break it to you, kid." Shoupe interjects whatever wimpy explanation the Maybank had, stepping forward with authority. "But I've got a warrant."

The Bexley sighs. She knew this was coming. 

"What?" John B. stammers, "A—a warrant?" 

"Topper's pressing charges."

JJ's brows furrow, "Hold up—"

The Routledge looks around as if the answer will appear in front of him. "For what?" 

Shoupe crosses behind the brunette boy, starting to lead him towards the Twinkie. Eden is quick on her feet, "Hey, hey, Shoupe—it wasn't his fault! Just hear us out!" She isn't sure how to defend her best friend in this one. He did punch Topper, regardless of how the Thornton stole his girlfriend. 

As the sheriff leads the Routledge away, the trio erupted into overlapping defenses. There were aggravated circumstances.

"A warrant? No, he started it!"

"Yeah, he did start it, Shoupe—"

"Shoupe, I'm just being honest with you!"

"Shoupe, seriously—"

"Are you serious, dog?"

 "Shoupe, just listen!"

Shoupe ignores the protests, pushing John B. against the Twinkie. "Put your hands up."

"Honestly, no, what did I do?" the Routledge is too busy spewing to listen. 

At the Routledge's defiance, Shoupe picks his arms up and presses them against the side of the van. He begins to pat the boy down. "Hands up against the van."

As he gets patted down, John B. whines, "Shoupe, I didn't even—this time I didn't even do anything, okay?" 

JJ takes in a sharp inhale before storming forward, "Do you know what Topper did to John B?"

Shoupe doesn't seem to care, pulling the brunette's hands down to cuff them together. It wasn't any of his business what happened; he was just here to carry out the warrant. "No, but I know what your boy here did." One hand is cuffed with a click, and moves on to the next. "He beat him in front of the whole town." 

Eden whines, "Shoupe." 

JJ is finding it harder and harder to reason it out with the sheriff. This time, John B. technically did do something. "Yeah, which is—"

"And kept beatin' him when he was down." Shoupe continues speaking, JJ opening and closing his mouth trying to find a worthy reply. "And Topper may be a douche, but you know better than that." 

Eden reasons, "Okay, but like, he messed around with John B.'s girlfriend and then was like 'No hard feelings, bro'—you would have clocked him, too! He set himself up, Shoupe!"

Shoupe grabs onto the Routledge's bicep and starts walking him to the cruiser. The Maybank rushes forward, spewing, "Shoupe! Come on, he was messing with John B.'s girl! You would do the same thing!"

The sheriff doesn't stop, continuing to walk. John B. is forced to walk too, but he doesn't stop trying to get out of his position—tomorrow he could be taken to the station. But not right now. He had to go save his father. "Shoupe, I get it, okay? I get it. But I can't be locked up right now."

Shoupe shows no sympathies, "Well, you should've thought of that beforehand."

Eden and JJ trail after the two, knowing that there was no use in defending anymore. Shoupe was taking John B. into custody regardless of what the three teens had to say. 

"Come on, man." The cruiser door opens and the Routledge is shoved inside, "We're doing this again? I don't have time for this."

The door shuts with a solid thud, and John B. sulks in the backseat, his head turned toward the driver's seat. Shoupe walks around the car, prepared to get in, but JJ and Eden aren't ready to give up. They linger by the door, desperate to find a way to get their friend out of this, even if they know he threw the first punch.

JJ mutters, "Come on. He didn't do shit—"

Shoupe puts an arm on his shoulder to lead him away, "JJ, please."

"You know—"

"You stay safe and stay out of trouble."

"Can this not wait till tomorrow?" Eden pleads, looking at the older man with a frown. She knows that underneath the unamused and rough exterior, Shoupe is a good man. As much as he hates to admit it, he does care for the Pogues, as much trouble as they may cause. "A lot has happened the past day, and Topper just set him off—"

"I have to do my job, I don't care about the story right now." Shoupe shakes his head, opening the car door. "Now go back home. Take him—" he shoots a sharp glance at the Maybank behind her, "—with you."

Eden huffs and steps back. Shoupe gets in his car and starts the engine. 

"Hey, John B., listen, okay?" JJ comes to the window, wanting to reassure the boy that they would get him out of his mess. Him and Eden wouldn't let him just lose the opportunity to save his father because of Topper. "We're gonna fix it. We're gonna get down to South America and save your dad."

"I'll see if my dad can do something, okay?" Eden chimes in, coming to JJ's side to meet her best friends gaze. John B. gives a solemn nod, and she adds, "I promise. We'll get you out."

Shoupe huffs, "Back it up, we got to go."

"You'll be fine. I'll figure it out." JJ starts to speed walk as Shoupe hits the gas, trying to shoo away the two Pogues from his car. "We'll save your dad, okay? You hear me, John B? We're gonna get him!"

Shoupe drives away, John B. watching as his friends disappeared. 

JJ kicks at the ground, "Shit!"

"It'll be okay." Eden isn't sure who she's reassuring. There was no way they were going to be able to get John B. out of a warrant from the Thornton family. "We'll find a way."

They have too. 

mara's misc!

this chapter is my birthday gift to mvybanksss

this girl has done so much for me it's rough that we live too far away to not give each other actual birthday gifts, but oh well. if you guys don't know who kensie is you're living under a rock atp because she's practically the co-author of this book. half of my good ideas come from her and basically every decision for eden gets checked over by her elder eyes.

 jjeden??? eden going with singh??? jj helping eden through her panic attack in s2??? 99% of this book is because of kensie you guys NEED to thank her. 

i know everyone on this app is probably sick of us as a duo and i would be too we're annoying as hell but you guys don't even get what she means to me.

 like seriously, kensie, you are one of the most refreshing friendships i have had in a while. having a friend that i know loves me just as much as i love them, having a friend who has never once given me the impression that they don't enjoy me, is SO fucking refreshing. i never feel judged around you. we both listen to each other. as someone who makes herself sick at the thought of her friends not liking her, or losing friendships, you've never made me feel that way ever. i know that i'll always have you in my corner.

we've never met but i know that you are my person. we are that duo. 

you could hate me and i'd still be grateful that we miraculously met on this app because you've given me an amazing two years.

this is starting to sound like we're dating but i don't even care. i love you so so so much. you will always have me, no matter what happens. 

anywho enough of the sappy shit happy mf birthday kensie i hope that seventeen treats you well and that you don't get too much back pain from that old age. EVERYONE GO SAY HAPPY BDAY TO KENSIE NEOW. 

back to the actual book this chapter was pretty fun to write?? i will take any opportunity i get to write john b and eden they are my actual children. little boy booker actual made me cackle so i had to include it (truly eden is just the single mother of both these boys living on 8 energy drinks)

ALSO said this on my message board but i'm gonna be one of the three pigs and a rat tap dancer in shrek???? not what i expected but i'm SO excited to tap dance.

hope you enjoyed <3 see you back chapter 76!!