Chapter Text
Season One.
If there was one thing the rich folks of Kildare Island liked more than day drinking, it was having literally anyone else look after their kid. They didn’t care if that person was an underpaid lifeguard trying to enjoy their lunch break.
“This is so stupid!” A young girl cried from inside a bathroom stall.
Lottie Routledge pulled a towel closer around her shoulders in an attempt to combat the building's air conditioning. She wreaked of sunscreen and chlorine, but the country club locker rooms were overwhelmed with lemon-scented cleaner. The shiny white tiles and glittering fixtures seemed to laugh at Lottie every time she entered, reminding her that even rich people’s bathrooms were nicer than anything she’d ever owned.
“It is stupid,” Lottie replied. “But it’s an unfortunate side-effect of womanhood.”
The young girl was quiet for several moments before she emerged from the stall dressed in her swimsuit and the pair of shorts Lottie had worn to work that morning. They were a little big on the pre-teen, but they were better than anything else she could have offered.
“I can never show my face here again.”
Lottie bit back a laugh, amused as the dramatics. “Wheezie, I don’t think anyone even noticed besides me.”
The youngest daughter of the Cameron family let out air from her cheeks, which were tinted red from the run and from the embarrassment of getting surprised with her period at the pool.
Wheezie came to the pool often, always dropped off by her brother who then disappeared to play golf with his fellow douchy rich-kid friends, her mom who then joined the other young wives at the bar for mimosas, or her sister who then vanished to do whatever Sarah Cameron spent her summer afternoons doing. Wheezie was one of the better kids who Lottie watched during her lifeguarding shifts. She followed the rules and liked to make small shit-chat with Lottie on slower days. Which was why she didn’t hesitate to flag down the girl before she stepped into the pool.
“It’s still embarrassing.” The kid dramatically fell onto one of the benches. An odd look crossed her face before she reached into the back pocket of her shorts and pulled something out. A joint was pinched between her fingers and Lottie was suddenly mortified.
She must have forgotten to take it out after her latest smoking session on the beach was cut short by a rowdy group of Kooks who were trying to act like they owned the place. The joint was unsmoked so she pocketed it for next time but forgot to take it out before she crashed for the night.
Lottie snatched it from Wheezie and shoved it in her duffle bag.
“Was that a weed?” Wheezie asked, innocently.
“No.” A weird beat of silence passed between them before Lottie switched gears. “Is your sister coming to get you or what?”
With a nod, Wheezie glanced at her phone. “She’s here. I told her I was hiding in the locker room.”
Less than a minute later, Sarah Cameron entered with a certain “kook-ness” to her that made Lottie want to both make herself smaller and be mean. It was a confusing set of emotions that came with the rich folks on the Island. Lottie loved to hate them but was too scared to hate them too loudly.
Sarah Cameron was a pretty blonde, sun-kissed, and glossy-lipped. She was the definition of the perfect Kook party girl, with all of the money and notoriety to never have to worry about anything in her life. It sounded like jealousy, partially because it was. Lottie was a lot of things, including a teenage girl living in the hand-me-downs of her friends and brother. But that wasn’t the only reason she had a distaste for Sarah Cameron.
The Kook and Lottie’s best friend, Kiara, had a messy history. Kie hated Sarah, and vice-versa. As Kie’s best friend, it was Lottie’s job to also dislike the blonde. But in instances like the one she was in, Lottie tried to save some face.
“Hey,” she greeted with an awkward wave and tight-lipped smile.
Sarah gave Lottie a once-over, making her feel even more uncomfortable in her work-issued swimsuit. “Hey,” Sarah replied before turning her attention to her little sister. “What happened? What’s the emergency?”
Wheezie’s cheeks deepened their red color. “I started by period,” she grumbled through gritted teeth.
With a gentle sigh, Sarah patted her sister’s back. “Come on, I’ll have Topper take us to get some ice cream, okay?” She gestured toward the exit, but Wheezie didn’t get up.
“No way! I can’t go out there, not until I know no one will see me.”
“It’s not a big deal-” Sarah started but was swiftly cut off.
“That’s what she said too, but you’re both liars!”
Lottie’s alarm rang on her phone, telling her she needed to return to work and yelling at sticky-fingered children trying to drown each other in the pool. She had spent her whole lunch break with Wheezie and abandoned her food in the kitchen fridge.
“How about I go check and make sure the coast is clear?” she suggested, earning a nod from Wheezie. Lottie stuck her head out of the door, looking both ways up and down the hall for any sign of the country club patrons, but especially Wheezie’s little group of friends. No one was around, considering they had just started serving lunch at the club and most people were probably enjoying a meal worth two of Lottie’s paychecks.
Reentering the locker room, she reported the good news to Wheezie, who quickly gathered her things and beelined for the door.
Sarah lingered behind for a moment, looking around awkwardly at the empty room like it was suddenly super interesting. “Thanks for helping her,” she said.
Lottie waved her off with a quick, “Don’t mention it.”
The sisters left, and Lottie dragged herself back to the lifeguard stand. A striped umbrella provided shade from the sun, but the summer heat baked her skin. Her whistle rested between her lips, ready to be blown at the first kid who took off running on the slippery concrete or to break up a game of chicken that got too rowdy.
The rest of her shift took its sweet time getting over, but once it finally did, she boarded her bike, somewhat regretting giving Wheezie her only pair of shorts. But she sucked it up and cruised down the streets of Kildare until the glittering mansions morphed into run-down little homes. The magic of Figure Eight faded into the Cut, the side of the island that homed herself and her friends. It was nowhere near as grand as the rich side, but to Lottie, it was much more comforting. Figure Eight was stuffy, plastic, and clean-cut. The Cut was the opposite.
Her house, affectionately referred to as the Chateau, housed her and her twin brother. It was by no means perfect, but it was her home. The place always smelled faintly of weed covered up by air freshener and the ghost of their dad’s cologne and their mom’s cinnamon potpourri that only Lottie ever replaced. There was a hole in the roof that leaked every time it rained and the window in her bedroom had a broken lock. There was a comfort to it that she felt like no mansion could replicate.
The only thing it lacked was the presence of their missing dad and their runaway mom. To make up for it, Lottie and John B. filled the void with their friends, who were there almost every night.
“Ah, there she is!” Lottie was greeted by a booming voice when she pulled up to the Chateau. Dropping her bike on the grass, she hurried over to her brother and friends all gathered around a small campfire, snacking on pizza and sipping on beers.
She took the seat next to JJ Maybank, who smiled wide as he slung an arm around her shoulder. “Anyone drown at work today?” he asked.
Shoving him lightly, Lottie shook her head. He dropped his arm but not his smile, passing her a beer from the cooler he had his feet propped up on.
Out of their little group, JJ had been in her and her brother’s lives the longest. They met him in third grade, and the three became inseparable. They were too intertwined in each other lives to ever leave it at that point, not that Lottie wanted that anyway.
John B. clapped from across the fire. “Wow, way to do your job, Lot. Gotta keep those Kooks safe, right?” She threw her beer bottle cap at him, but he jerked to the side and it landed in the grass. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned the gesture.
Despite being twins, they didn’t look too much alike. John B.'s dark brown eyes and dirty blond hair contrasted with Lottie's light blue eyes and dark brunette waves. They also functioned differently. John B. was more laid back, resting in the weeds kind of person while Lottie needed a clear cut path to figure out where she was going. It didn’t matter how unalike they looked or acted, the twins were known around the island thanks to their dad’s disappearance at sea nine months prior.
Their dad was declared to be dead after three months of searching turned up nothing, but John B. had refused to sign off on it. He said he wouldn’t believe anything without a body, and since he didn’t sign, Lottie didn’t either. Did she think her dad was still alive out there? No. Did she want to believe her brother was right? Of course she did. John B. was hopeful and relentless, but Lottie was doubtful and complaisant.
“And how did you assholes spend your afternoon?” Lottie asked, snagging a slice of pizza to cure her hunger since missing her lunch break.
“We snuck into an unfinished Kook house. Real sweet place,” said JJ.
Kiara scoffed loudly and Lottie could tell in the dim light of the fire that she was fired up. “Sweet? It was the definition of unnecessary! No one needs that many bathrooms with fancy toilets. No one. And don’t even get me started on how they built those houses where a turtle sanctuary was.”
“Seriously, don’t get her started,” John B. cut in with a smirk on his lips. “That’s all she talked about while we were there.”
Kie narrowed her gaze at John B. slightly offended and still clearly angry about the new housing developments happening on the island, which she had been bad-mouthing since before they even began. Lottie didn’t disagree with her. The less rich people who moved there and bought up plots along the beach, the better off she thought Kildare would be.
“Yeah, because it’s ridiculous!” Kie said.
Pope jumped in before John B. could poke Kie even more, teasing her into a full-fledged argument. “We weren’t there long, though,” he said. “Security showed up and chased us off. We made a clean getaway in the Twinkie, though.”
The group always sought out trouble; it was like they were unable to avoid it. And it was contagious because every time Lottie was with them, she fell right into their slightly reckless habits like breaking into unoccupied and unfinished homes despite being run out of there more than once. What they had wasn’t the Kooks' kind of invincibility, cushioned by money that allowed them to do whatever the hell they wanted without consequence. What the Pogues had was pure adrenaline and bad decision-making. The only thing they had to fall back on was each other.
“You’re lucky they didn’t arrest your asses,” Lottie said with a shake of her head.
JJ nudged her arm with his shoulder, grinning in the orange glow. “They couldn’t catch us, even if they tried.”
➤
The last thing Lottie wanted to do was spend her morning at the DCS office. The place held an uncomfortable energy and a fake sense of security that made her chew on her fingernails. Across the desk sat a woman in a nice suit and much too official for Lottie’s liking.
Despite knowing, realistically, someone would figure out she and John B. were living without an adult since their dad disappeared, she prayed for some kind of oversight. She thought maybe they’d overlook them and not catch their mistake until they turned eighteen and were free to continue living without adult supervision. They were managing just fine on their own with each other.
“It’s come to our attention that the two of you are unemancipated minors living on your own,” the woman said, flickering her gaze between the twins.
On their way over, John B. it was best to lie and pretend like their uncle had been watching them the entire time. The people from DCS weren’t idiots but she supposed they didn’t necessarily have proof of their lie, that was until they decided to come around their house and see that their uncle was very much not in the picture whatsoever.
John B. pursed his lips, something he did right before lying. “No. We’re definitely not.”
The woman sighed softly, waiting for an answer from Lottie with the clear hope that she wouldn’t lie to her face. But Lottie shook her head in agreeance with her brother.
“I need honesty to help the both of you.”
“We are being honest,” said John B.
“Okay.” The woman glanced down at the file opened on her desk. Lottie wondered what it said about them in there. What kind of information did they have on them? “Then when was the last time you spoke to your uncle?”
John B. pretended to think, glancing at his watch. “Thirty-four minutes ago.”
“And the last time you saw him?”
That time, Lottie answered, “Two hours and forty-three minutes.”
The woman was quiet for a moment, closing the file with another sigh. She had a gaze of disapproval and pity in her eyes like a disappointed mother. From the photos that littered her desk, Lottie presumed she was a mother. Or maybe they were photos of kids she saved from shitty situations. Their life wasn’t perfect without their parents around, but they were well-off all things considered. Lottie was certain they’d continue to be fine; way better than they’d be in some group home on the mainland.
“We’re going to come out there tomorrow and talk to your uncle. If he’s not there, we’re going to move forward with foster care.” Lottie grimaced, not so subtly. “I want to assure you both that we are going to find you a safe and loving home.”
Lottie called bullshit, and so did John B. but they didn’t say anything else until they were out of the building. Off in the distance, storm clouds loomed, matching their frustration.
“This so stupid,” John B. groaned, running a hand down the length of his face.
Every time she thought about the possibility they’d be put in foster care, her stomach ached painfully. Once DCS started sniffing around their rouse of being taken care of by their uncle, she dreamed of her life in the Cut being pulled out from under her. That’s why she started biting her nails again, a bad habit she thought she kicked years ago.
“What if they split us up?” Lottie asked, her voice small. Leaving her home, leaving the island, was one thing, but she had never been without her brother. Since they were born, she and John B. did everything together. They were the only family they had left. And they didn’t always see eye to eye, but they looked out for each other no matter what. If they split them up and Lottie lost that, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
He looked startled like he hadn’t even thought of that as a real possibility, but he steeled himself quickly. “No way,” he said. “They’re not taking us anywhere and they’re not splitting us up.” She wasn’t sure it was as easy as that, but she didn’t want to ponder the other “what ifs.” And it made her feel a little less doomed, even though they had no real plan on how to avoid DCS. There wasn’t a chance in hell that their uncle would magically show up tomorrow. They’d be caught in their lie, that was almost certain. The only thing that could buy them some more time lied within the encroaching clouds that blew in from the coast.
➤
“Those are un-surfable waves, dude!” Pope shouted above the claps of thunder that echoed for miles. Impressive waves pounded the shore, aggressive and as dreary as the gray skies overhead. Rain poured in buckets over their heads, soaking them to the bone before they even stepped foot in the ocean.
The beach was lined with signs saying it was closed, but no one was around to monitor whoever was insane enough to venture to the beach in the middle of a hurricane. Agatha was on a war path, but the worst wasn’t supposed to hit until later that night, leaving plenty of time to catch some waves before they grew too intense to surf or too calm in the storm’s aftermath.
Lottie hiked her surfboard up as it started to slip from her grasp. The waves were much larger than usual, but they didn’t look un-surfable, yet. Besides, they had surfed plenty of storms before, and if DCS was ready to take her away from the ocean, from her home, she at least had to get out one last time.
They had postponed coming to their house to speak to their uncle, who hadn’t been around in months, because of the hurricane. It only bought them a little bit of time, a day or two max. The island knew how to bounce back from a storm, their livelihood depended on it. Even when the Cut’s power was the very last to be fixed, they were crafty and hardworking people who knew just how to get by. If hurricane Agatha was their last hurrah, Lottie was going to spend it doing something she loved.
“Says who?” John B. said before taking off toward the water. Lottie followed, excitement fluttering inside her stomach as another shot of thunder rattled. Pope cursed something under his breath before he ran after them right into the angry ocean.
Splashing into the cool water, Lottie braced for the intensity of the current. Harsh waves sprayed her face with salt water and rose goosebumps along her arms. The three of them paddled out a ways before they took turns catching the beautiful and daunting waves.
Between the hurricane winds and needle-like rainfall, staying on the board for too long was impossible, but each time Lottie wiped out, she relished the feeling of kicking her way to the surface before breaking the water with a bubble of laughter erupting from her throat.
She had never been scared of the water; that wasn’t a fear most people who grew up on the island had. The ocean felt like a second home to her; it was where she felt the most thrilled and most at peace. Their dad had taught them to swim when they were very young, tossing them into the water and telling them to keep their head above the waves. Since then, Lottie couldn’t stay away. She was a damn good swimmer, which landed her a job at the Island Club as a lifeguard. And that was why she had no fear riding the waves Agatha sent her way.
Crawling back up onto her board, she sent Pope a wink, who returned it with a nervous shake of his head. The storm was growing more intense by the minute, and they’d be stupid to stay out there too much longer. Plus, she didn’t want Pope to have a panic attack out there. He had only caught one wave and spent the rest of the time watching her and John B., making sure no one died.
John B. seemed ready to go as well. He sat on his board a little way away from them, looking at something off in the distant water. Lottie cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “John! Let’s turn in for tonight. I’m starving!”
He turned around at the sound of her voice, brows furrowed. “Did you guys see that?”
“See what?” asked Pope.
“A boat. Someone’s in a boat out there.”
Lottie strained her eyes to look out further into the water, but all she saw was growing waves. “Please, no one’s stupid enough to take their boat out in the middle of a hurricane.”
“Says the one who suggested surfing during one,” Pope retorted. Lottie rolled her eyes and started to paddle back towards shore, Pope hot on her heels and eager to be back on dry-ish land. John B. wasn’t far behind, forgetting about the supposed boat he saw.
On shore, the sand whipped around, and the trees swayed, bending in the wind and testing their luck. Oddly, that was how Lottie felt, like a tree in a hurricane, trying to stay upright. She certainly wasn’t the luckiest, but she hoped the next couple of ways didn’t break her too harshly. All she wanted to do was stay there, with her friends, for as long as the universe would let her.