chapter 3.
seven.

୨୧

Control is something josephine never had but always craved. this wanting manifested itself in a variety of different ways—rebelling, withdrawing, and, more prominently, counting.

everything is done in sevens. she doesn't know why, that's just the way it had always been. she felt as though the number had been assigned to her at birth: she had been born on the seventh day of the seventh month, was seven years younger than jj, and had now been in seven different foster homes. jo's favorite color, violet, was the seventh color in the rainbow. even her shoe size was seven.

so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary when counting by sevens had stopped her spiral the night before. jo liked how that was her own special trick; the thought of someone else knowing made her physically ill. her thoughts, her counting, it was all hers. nothing else had ever been just josephine's.

ignoring the familiar sick feeling in her stomach jo joins the pogues in the charter shop the next morning. her index finger burns from the hand soap she applied moments earlier, and so she resorts to pressing the bandaid deeper into the pad of her finger, simultaneously worsening yet relieving the pain. she supposes that's how she feels about most things regarding her life; coping methods made things worse yet better all at once.

when josephine reaches them on the dock, the older teens are assessing damage from a lightning strike that occurred the previous night. jo hadn't even noticed the storm; she had been too wrapped up in her panic. typical.

pope pulls a dripping net from their [once] live bait tank and john b deflates. "anyone want fried fish?"

jj joins them in the shop and it's all jo can do to keep from scowling. she wasn't mad at him, not really. she's not all too sure why she was angry. she just was. perhaps this anger's fueled by the embarrassment brought on from him seeing her in such distress the night before. "what's the damage, pope?"

"fuse box's busted." he dangles a perished pogie, lets it drop back into the tank. "without the live bait, the fisherman won't come and there goes half of our business right there." jo fidgets with her bandaid and taps the extra in her pocket. she'd changed it when she woke, but that was nearly two hours ago now. "we have enough profit to cover it, but just barely." pope crosses the shop, lifting a small jar from atop a shelf. "this is it." he turns the glass upside down, emptying its contents onto his palm. jo's eyes widen at the shiny nugget of gold. "the last of our au."

john b furrows his eyebrows. "uh, what?"

"gold. it's the periodic symbol for gold."

"why not just say gold?"

"because it doesn't matter." pope sets the jar down. "this is all our savings, and it's a no-go. this is for property taxes. so, we're gonna have to tighten up." the group groans. pope continues, unfazed. "which means no more six hundred dollars in gas chasing tarpon up the gulf." he looks at jj, who straightens abruptly. "pope, that's my job." john b agrees, protesting, "we were chasing a bait board."

pope ignores the boys, pointing to kiara. "no more two hundred dollars in heirloom tomato seeds."

"what about my imported peppers?" cleo cuts in with concern. "the peppers gotta go too, baby." pope discloses and jj raises his voice, becoming enraged. "i need to run the charters..."

"it's not the tomatoes fault!" sarah cries out.

everyone begins shouting over one another and jo begins counting, focusing on her bandaid. she'll need to change it soon. seven. fourteen. twenty one. twenty eight...

"...if the business starts failing, the sharks start circling, all right?" pope gestures to the maybank siblings. "and we don't even know if your dad's coming back."

jo snaps out of her trance, tensing at the mention of her father. luke maybank was mean and cold and angry; he's who she feared most, despite all the far worse people she had met throughout the past few years. jj pretends not to notice the pale look on his sisters face. "yeah, well, it's not his anymore."

"doesn't matter. what's he gonna think when he sees all this?" pope argues. "listen. if we wanna save this place, we skinny up until the business gets afloat again. okay?" he finishes his tangent, leaving the jar of gold on the counter as he storms away.

josephine feels her heart pound as if reminding her of the time. she looks down at the bandaid, trying not to think about the fact that she's really only a skin-encased bacterial colony.

in the end, the bacteria wins. it always does, and jo always leaves to change the bandaid.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

"Why, exactly, did i have to come?" jo stands on the outside of the crowd, watching as each racer finishes the final touches on their bikes. she had been dragged to this dust bowl of a beach to watch jj compete in the enduro race despite her numerous protests. even though she was thirteen, jj would always see jo as a little kid who needed babysitting.

"because, jo. don't you wanna see me absolutely smoke these kooks?" jj ties a bandana around his neck, leaning against his bike as josephine crosses her arms. "no, not really."

before jj has a chance to respond john b rushes over, pounding the other boy on the back. "let's go, baby! how we feeling, champ?" the blonde risks a short glance at his sister before turning to john b. "like i got this whole thing shot. i'm gonna win it this year, i know i am."

"yeah you are!"

"cleo, how we doing, girl?" jj looks down at cleo who's adding last minute finishing touches to his bike. jo didn't know much about popes girlfriend, but she seems well acquainted with the pogues; jo wondered how they had even met, seeing as the islander was not even from the states.

"everything's all good, man." cleo pats the bike, rising to her feet. "ready to roll out." she does a quick handshake with jj and josephine can't help feeling a short pain of jealousy. "bring it home, rude boy."

"you know i will." jj nods, looking back to his sister. "hey, go watch with kie, all right?"

josephine remains silent, nodding curtly before wandering back to the sidelines. she finds sarah and kiara and the former leans over, addressing the younger maybank. "hey jo, does your brother ever think before he does anything?"

josephine scoffs. "does yours?" she'd heard of rafe cameron and his psychopathic killing spree.

"touché." sarah chuckles, unfazed. jo's anger doesn't bother her; it's refreshing after putting up with jj's pure stupidity.

josephine remains silent, keeping her gaze pointed forward. sarah was spot on: her brother never thought before doing anything. like, not even once. jo finds this quite ironic giving she thought about everything, maybe even too much. right now, she can't stop thinking about how she's not really herself at all; nothing but flesh covered bones stacked atop each other, and once she dies, it'll be like josephine maybank never existed. back into the earth where she rose, bones and all. simultaneously, jo was also thinking about the ten to one hundred thousand microorganisms in just a single grain of sand. she pinches the bandaid tighter to her skin, willing herself not to panic nor to think.

two teenaged girls stand in front of the starting line, one of which josephine recognizes to be peeler, a recent pogue-turned-kook. the girls raise their flags, announcing the races rules (or lack thereof). "alright guys, listen up! the race is to the old buoy and back. other than that, no rules." kiara nudges josephine, nodding to the speaker. "that's ruthie, toppers new bitch."

"we all good?" ruthie shouts. "this is for all of the money and respect!" the crowd hoots and hollers and peeler shouts over their whistling, "on your marks, get set...go!"

engines rev and the racers take off speeding, jj bringing up the rear. jo flinches as dust flies up into the air, cradling her wounded finger. recent studies found that the sand and water on beaches can host mrsa bacteria. you'll need to change the bandaid. you could be infected.

josephine's biggest fear is contracting sepsis. her best friend in fifth grade got sepsis in her leg and it ate away at her until there was nothing left. there was an assembly on the importance of hygiene and early treatment of infections and ever since jo's brain is constantly reminding her of its symptoms and to change the fucking bandaid.

the racers disappear into the woods and josephine tunes out the announcers updates. she wishes she could tune her thoughts out just as easily.

"oh!" an announcer reacts, jolting josephine back to attention. she stands on her tiptoes, watching jj struggle to right his bike after a fall. "he's down again in the deep sand! cameron and the other riders are probably halfway back through the trees at this point; not a chance he's catching up with them."

"wait, hold on...what are we seeing, ladies and gentlemen?" jj speeds up, heading straight past the next turn. josephine notices the concerned look on kiara's face and speaks up. "what's happening? what's he doing?"

kie doesn't respond, instead repeating, "no, no, no."

"looks like he's gonna try to jump the inlet." the commenter announces, "that's a fifty foot gap!" josephine's eyes widen and her thumbnail bites harder into the pad of her index finger the closer jj gets to the jump. there's a shout and jo closes her eyes, refusing to look until cheers ring out and she opens them back up, breathing out a sigh of relief seeing that jj safely made it to the other side.

"oh my god, jj maybank! absolute full send!" the announcers can't believe it either. "no regard for personal safety, he has gone worst to first and leap frogged the entire pack!" the other bikers come speeding around the corner, catching up quick. "rafe cameron's closing fast. looks like it's gonna be chippy here." jo refrains from biting her nails, instead chewing violently on the inside of her lips. there's shouting on the track and the announcers gasp. "they are banging! they're hitting!"

jo can't believe her eyes; it's looking like jj might actually win this thing. the finish line is only a few feet away. he's in the lead, and—

rafe cameron's tire brushes the back of jj's and both racers go flying, tumbling off their bikes and into the sand. the crowd gasps and the announcers shout, "oh, mayhem, carnage, they're both down! they collided just short of the finish!"

the other racers continue as the fallen riders stay collapsed on the sand. josephine steps back in shock, hands cupped around her mouth as she shouts to her brother. "jj! jj! get up!"

john b is next in front, coming to a sharp stop as he just narrowly misses colliding with jj. this opens the front for topper, who easily slides ahead and crosses the finish line.

"ladies and gentlemen, topper thornton is your enduro champion!" the crowd lurches forward and jo curses as she's nearly knocked to the ground. she breathes deep, trying not to get lost in the sea of teens as she follows her brothers friends forward, crowding around john b.

jj storms down the beach, cursing angrily. josephine focuses on the bandaid she needs to change, trying not to compare her angry brother to her angry father. they were nothing alike. she knew this, of course, but why didn't she feel it?