Chapter Text
The road was quiet. John B tapped the wheel with two fingers, watching the trees outside. JJ was late again. He always said he wouldn’t be, and always was. At this point, John B didn’t even text to check. He knew the drill – wait five to ten minutes after the agreed time, and JJ would appear, dragging his feet but smiling like he was exactly on time.
He leaned over and yanked the passenger door open. The seat was still covered in junk from the last grocery run – a crushed bag and two empty water bottles. JJ ducked in without comment, sat on top of it all, and slammed the door shut.
“Morning,” he muttered, stuffing something into his backpack.
“You look like shit,” John B said, easing the van back onto the road.
JJ pushed up a little to swipe the junk under him to the floor. “Well, I ain't here to impress the youth of America.”
His hair was still wet and sticking in every direction. There was a bandage across the side of his thumb, but it looked like a work cut, nothing bad. Jaw still held the faint shape of that bruise from two weeks ago, but it had faded to nothing you’d ask about.
John B had already spent enough time thinking about it. The morning after court, he’d woken up and JJ was gone. Boots missing, couch empty. One look and he knew where he’d gone.
He’d paced the house for half an hour, phone in hand, trying to decide if he was more pissed or scared. Sat on the porch all morning waiting for a text that never came, cycling through every version of the damage Luke could’ve done. He figured JJ wouldn’t show up for a while, and if he did, it’d be bad.
But JJ had strolled up like it was any other school day, ten minutes late. Shirt sliding off one shoulder, grinning like nothing was off. His eye was still bruised, and now his jaw was, too. But he wasn't walking like he was hurt, no limp, no winces. Actually in a good mood, and John B hadn't known what to make of it. He’d walked in and started asking people whether breakfast tacos counted as a vegetable until the teacher had cut him off.
JB’d wanted to ask what happened, wasn't Luke pissed, what the fuck was JJ even thinking to go back there again. Nothing he could say would land right, so he said nothing.
They passed the marina. The dock was already busy – two boats loading gear, gulls circling like they always did. Ward had caught him there last week and asked if he wanted extra hours over summer. My Druthers needed work. Cleaning, sanding, moving gear, maybe helping organize storage. The offer came without strings, but it still felt strange. John B said yes. The pay was better than the marina, and he couldn’t afford to be picky. Ward didn’t ask questions, and John B didn’t offetoolsr details. That seemed to work for both of them. Sarah had waved once when she saw him on the dock. Rafe showed up once too, but let him be, which was a small miracle. The boat was in good shape, and the work wasn't hard.
JJ tapped the window button with his palm and let it roll down. “The Twinkie ever accidentally take a left to the beach?”
“Not yet. But keep talking.”
They slowed near the junkyard. John B steered wide of the usual pothole, then glanced over at JJ. No slouch, and he wasn’t quiet the way he got when things were bad.
Lately, he’d been around less. Said things at home were steady. They were working on the Phantom with Luke – replacing a pump, maybe rewiring something. JJ didn’t go into detail, but didn’t avoid the topic either. Talked about his piece of shit dad like someone he actually wanted to be around. Said they grilled hot dogs last Friday and how weird it was, then laughed. John B hadn’t heard that kind of laugh from him in weeks, so he let it go without comment.
Pope was still Pope, but was locked in his own world lately, now that he didn't have Kook parties to crash and blackmails to plan – essays, schedules nobody else could keep straight. Every time he opened his mouth, it was to ask about GPA scales or reword a personal statement. He didn’t stop hanging out, and still rolled his eyes at JJ three times per hour on average, just wasn't around as much.
After her parents found out about skipping that Monday, Kie had gone full ghost. The grounding this time came with rules they all heard about secondhand. No car, no phone past ten, no leaving the house unless it was for school or work. She’d sent a few messages, mostly sarcasm and updates on whatever she was banned from this time. Her parents were watching her like a hawk. It made things trickier, but they only had a little more than a month of school left anyway. Things would go back to normal once summer came.
The Chateau was quieter with everyone scattered. At first, that felt good. Now it made the place feel off-balance. Quiet like that? Bad news. Got you thinking too much. Mostly about his dad. He started drinking before bed, beer at first, then whatever was leftover in the cabinet. Never enough to feel it the next day, but enough to shut his brain off faster.
Everyone was okay, and the summer was coming. This was what mattered.
JJ pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket and offered it without looking. The crumpled wrapper flew into the overflowing ashtray Pope never managed to keep up emptying. The road to school curved ahead, same patchy pavement, same half-dead billboard near the entrance.
“That asshole still ain't here right?” JJ asked.
“Who?”
“Brock, who.”
“Yeah. Kie said Europe or something.”
“Figures.” JJ popped the gum in his mouth and put his foot up on the dash. “Kid sets shit on fire, does all kinds of crap, gets a vacation. You miss one day and social services show up with a clipboard.”
They pulled into the lot five minutes late. Pope was already there, of course, earbuds in, pacing near the front stairs.
JJ clapped his hands once. “Alright, scholars. Time to learn.”
John B put the van in park, grabbed his binder off the dash, and followed.
___________________
He had one blank left.
The worksheet was nearly done, and Pope was trying to decide whether the answer was “convergent” or “transform” when something small bounced against his elbow. He didn’t react at first. The pencil kept moving, filled in “convergent,” then he rested the eraser against his temple for a second.
Another paper ball hit the side of his desk. He glanced toward the front of the room, saw Mrs. James still sketching tectonic plate diagrams like her life depended on it, then reached down and picked up the latest attack.
Unfolded, it was exactly what he expected – a crude drawing of the Earth being split in two by JJ’s face, captioned “Plate Tectonics: The Real Cause.”
He set it down on top of his notes. Tried to refocus. Mrs. James was explaining subduction zones now, and he actually wanted to get this down. He was half a page ahead on the packet, and he wanted to finish it before the bell.
Behind him, JJ whispered something he couldn’t hear but could definitely feel. Then John B laughed quietly, which meant they were in sync now. That was dangerous. Two of them whispering was manageable. Two of them laughing together was about five seconds away from either detention or a fire alarm.
He leaned forward, trying to signal through body language alone that he was not in the mood. His focus was locked on Mrs. James, who had just written the word "lithosphere" in huge block letters, circling it twice.
Then a third paper ball soared over his head and landed directly in Mrs. James’s hair.
Pope stared at his desk and bit the inside of his cheek. Behind him, he could already hear JJ’s half-swallowed wheeze, and feel the exact moment John B lost it and tried to cover it with a cough.
Mrs. James paused mid-sentence. Reached up. Pulled the paper from her hair and turned toward them slowly.
“That’s enough. I don’t know what you three find so entertaining back there, but unless one of you would like to take over teaching, I suggest you quiet down and refocus.”
A hand flew in the air – JJs – and Pope couldn't stop the wince. Thankfully, that was the exact moment the door opened. Probably someone from the office. It creaked loud enough that most of the class looked up, including Mrs. James.
And there she was. Kie stepped inside like it was any other day. Hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows,a loose ponytail pulled through a scrunchie that looked like it had seen better days. Not smiling, but her mouth twitched like she might start.
For a few seconds, the room didn’t seem real.
“Kie?” John B stood up first.
Then JJ’s chair screeched backward. Pope turned fully now, twisting in his seat just in time to see JJ launch himself forward like his body had decided faster than his brain.
“Don’t you dare –” she warned, but was already bracing for impact.
JJ threw his arms around her in a running hug and promptly tripped over his own feet. The hug turned into a full tumble as he lost balance mid-step, taking them both straight to the ground in a heap.
There was a thud. Then a loud “ow,” followed by laughter, mostly JJ’s.
“Shit, you okay?” he asked, still grinning from the floor.
John B didn’t slow down – he launched himself on top of them like he’d been waiting for an excuse. Kie’s voice floated up from the floor. “I swear to God, if you broke my knee, I’m going back to Kook school.”
JJ’s grin slipped for a second and he poked gently at her knee. “Does it hurt like that?”
“No,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s fine.”
Relief flashed across his face, then the grin came back. “Cool. I was gonna blame John B anyway.”
Pope was already out of his seat, heart thumping harder than he’d like to admit. He got to them fast, reached down, and started untangling limbs. Caught Kie’s wrist, pulled her up as JJ and John B scrambled off the floor, laughing like idiots. He didn’t miss the glance JJ threw at her knee though, like he was still making sure.
Kie was still brushing her hair out of her face. Then looked at all three of them, smile coming in full.
“Hey, losers.”
That got her another hug from JJ, thankfully looser this time. John B joined in like he was reclaiming something. Pope hesitated for half a second, then moved in and wrapped an arm around all three of them.
“You’re really here.”
“Looks that way.”
His mouth twitched. “Only took a year.”
“Blame my mom.” She rolled her eyes.
To her credit, Mrs. James had waited patiently for the chaos to settle. When the noise started to drop, she stepped forward and addressed the class.
“Kiara Carrera has returned to the school. She’ll be rejoining us starting today. Please act like you’ve seen another student before.”
It looked like JJ was about to say something obnoxious, so Pope cut him off before he could.
“If you tackle the next transfer student, I’m filming it.”
Kie was still between them, flushed, hair everywhere. John B said something Pope didn’t catch, and JJ laughed like he didn’t care who else was in the room.
Standing there, watching the three of them, Pope realized this was exactly what they'd been missing since the school year started.
____________
“So how’d you pull it off?” JJ asked. “Aren’t your parents like allergic to us and this school?”
Kie sat next to him, peeling the label off her water bottle in small strips. Her eyes stayed low. The sun was in her face, but she didn’t shift. After a second, she shrugged.
“I told them some stuff that was true,” she said. “And some stuff that… landed better.”
JJ kept his hands busy. He was braiding a section of her hair. It always made his head quiet, ever since the first messy braid in third grade. Across from them, John B was stretched out, backpack for a pillow. Pope was perched on the tabletop, picking granola out of a Ziploc with two fingers. It felt like a normal day again.
“So?” he went on. “What’d you actually say?”
“That I hated it there. That it wasn’t helping.” Kie’s mouth tightened,” That… if they moved me back, I’d stop skipping.”
“Yeah, good luck with that”
She paused to frown at him. “And I…I might’ve said if they forced me to go there next year, I’d rather kill myself.”
The table went still for a moment, no one jumping in with anything light. JJ’s fingers slowed, but he kept braiding like it helped hold the air steady.
“Damn, Kie,” he muttered. “Way to keep things upbeat.”
“You weren’t serious, though. Right?” Pope asked.
She looked at him. “Nah. I didn’t want to die or anything. I just… couldn’t take the thought of being there till graduation.”
John B sat up a little. “Well. Here’s to lies that land.”
That cracked it. Kie smiled, Pope let out a breath through his nose, and JJ dropped the braid and reached for another chip, letting their voices move around him. She started rambling about her mom’s newest rules. John B kept throwing out ideas for how to break all of them without getting caught, while Pope rolled his eyes, but still rated them for realism.
It hadn’t felt like this in a while. That easy. Kie being there changed the shape of everything, somehow.
Then Pope stopped mid-reach to the bag of chips. “Look who's back.”
JJ followed his eyes and saw Brock walking the edge of the gym lawn slow, hands in his pockets. When he hit the middle stretch, he looked over.
Their eyes locked.
Heat rose through his ribs and JJ moved on instinct. The bench scraped below him as he stood, ready for whatever was coming next. Brock held the gaze, mouth half-open, like he was about to speak. One step angled toward them.
For a long moment, they stared at each other. Then the line in Brocks shoulders broke, he turned and walked behind the gym.
John B shifted on the bench. “Guess he’s not pressing his luck.”
“Took him long enough.”Kie grinned.
They all eased up, Pope reaching for the chips again. All but JJ, who stayed on his feet, still scanning the yard. His hands were loose, but he was ready to move. The moment hadn't passed, not for him. The gym blocked most of the backlot, though there were ways around it – a cut through the side fence, the alley behind the dumpsters. Brock wouldn’t be far. Not dwelling too long, he stepped off the edge of the bench and adjusted his cap.
Pope left the chips be and looked up. “Where are you—”
“Nowhere.”
No plan in his head. He knew what he wanted. Brock backed into a corner, squirming. Eyes on him, no room to move. Nothing to duck behind. Feeling small, the way he'd made them feel.
A hand caught him near the elbow – he hadn’t seen Kie get up.
“JJ.” Her fingers rested there. “Don’t.”
Pope stood too. “Leave it, man. That shit’s over.”
The pressure in his chest let up some, but didn't leave. Legs ready, eyes still aimed toward the back lot. That asshole walked, sure, but not clean. JJ could still catch up. Say a few words. Nothing big, just enough to flip it for a second. Make sure the Pogues wouldn’t have to brace every time he came around.
But then John B looked up and spoke straight to the voice in JJ’s head. “What’s the point, Js? We already won, remember?”
A long look at them, one by one. Then JJ sat down. Air moved easier in his chest. The wood gave a little under him, and that was it.
Kie lowered herself beside him just as Pope finally got his hand into the chips without interruptions. John B’s suggestion to write P4L on Brock’s locker in pink glitter made Kie laugh so hard she snorted. That prompted Pope to jab at her with his mouth full, and he managed to spit out a half-chewed chip in the process.
JJ leaned back into the bench, squinted toward the sun, and kicked one foot out. The wind caught the torn wrapper and dragged it across the wood.
They’d won. They were good. And for once, he let himself believe that.
Even if it was only half true.