(𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞) 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 / 𝐭𝐯 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

the aftermath of the storm is pretty apparent on the beaches. drift wood, plastic, sediment, marine life, and other debris make their new home on the storm-weathered beaches of the island. it is our job to clean it up. or rather tolkiens maids or butlers or whatever, but they could use some help, and we could all use some bonding.

i rally all of us at the now designated meeting spot- the fire pit- via the group chat. i explain that everyone needs to wear real clothes and not their pajamas, and give them an actual reason to come help clean. a couple of people decline my request, but the majority make it out here. and here we are. picking up garbage and throwing back crabs. me and kenny are working in a team, and he is rather efficient.

"FUCK." he yells in pain. i turn around and a small crab is holding onto his finger. he shakes his hand rapidly and i start laughing at his attempt to free himself of the baby crabs grip. "it's not funny! that little shit bit me." he whines once it finally lets go. "it didn't bite you kenny, it pinched you." wendy overhears the exchange and joins in, correcting him in a joking tone. "whatever it did, it hurt. maybe i'll lose the finger-or hand!" he shows me the mark it left on his middle finger. a small pin-point cut is left on either side of his finger, and is currently bright red at its center from where it latched on (and was subsequently flown off).

"i've seen more life threatening paper cuts." i roll my eyes at his ridiculous exaggeration of his injury. "oh i can feel the blood draining out of me." he brings the back of his hand to his forehead and leans back, feigning a hurt expression like a musical or play. "oh kiss me goodbye, y/n, let my last memories be of your lips on mine." he shouts theatrically, and dramatically. he leans in but pauses when i begin to speak. "you're not going to war kenny." i smile, and he does too, and regains his upright posture. "you miss 100% of the shots you don't take." he rests his arms ontop of his rake and places his head ontop of them, looking at me flirtatiously.

"and you don't clean any percentage of the beach you don't rake." kyle shouts from a couple feet away. kenny talks kind of loudly. "that doesn't even make any sense kyley-b!" he responds, not bothering to turn to him and tell him, and not bothering to go back to work, or stop looking at me, doing everything but batting his eyelashes. "shut the hell up kenny and get back to work." he yells back playfully angry.

i go back to combing the beach and making a pile of the plastic i collect. "i can't work when you stare at me." i tell kenny. i don't stop what i'm doing or look up to him. he can hear me just fine from where he stands anyways. "i can't survive without your attention." he quips back. "you're like an infant." i say in reply. it's true, he does need constant attention and for people to nurture him. "does that mean you'll breast feed me mommy?" he makes kissy noises after he finished his sentence. i pause what i'm doing to take a breath. every talk i have with him he always says something questionable "what the fuck is wrong with you." i say, laughing at his crudeness.

"goo goo ga ga?" he laughs at his own joke and finally goes back to work. finally. he leaves his rake against a tree and opts instead to pick up the larger pieces of flat plastic that litter the sand. garbage bags, water bottle wrappers, other wrappers. "thanks for contributing to the group, kenny." wendy says plainly as he goes back to helping, commenting on his previous break. "any time!" he smiles and shakes his head at wendy's passive aggressiveness. he collects a small pile of shredded plastic in his hands.

me, kenny, wendy, and butters are working on the left half of the beach closest to the bonfire. on the other side of the beach, stan, bebe, kyle, craig, and tolkien diligently worked to pick up. driftwood is their main source of debris from what it looks like. twigs and larger branches alike cover the beach. there is some on the left side too, but the majority has already been picked up by an eager butters, always ready to lend a hand.

stan works close to kyle, picking up sticks while kyle rakes. kyle is the trash bag holder. he has a roll of black trash bags in his cargo pants pocket so when you make a pile large enough to need one, you just ask him instead of having to try to rake and hold the bag. my pile is nearly big enough, so i begin to make my way to him.

i step around kenny and his focused sifting, and carefully walk across the hole-y, crab filled, wood covered, beach.

"that's good. it will be good for you to stop, or atleast slow down." i overhear kyle say as i grow closer. "what will be good?" i ask, standing between the two men. "i'm going sober." stan answers plainly, but swallows nervously awaiting my response. out of fear i'll say that's dumb? laugh at him? say he can't do it? i'm not sure. it's a noble thing to quit drinking, especially when you're a addict- or borderline one (like stan). "thats great! i agree with kyle, it'll be good for you i think." well for his health. stan does drink a lot for someone his age, and it will be hard for him to quit. and then he loses what is obviously a coping mechanism for himself. even he knows that he uses drinking as a clutch, he mutters it during his drunk rants. "yeah. i think so too." stan bends down to pick up some more wood, gathering it underneath his arm to eventually throw in the fire pit.

"can i get a bag?" i ask kyle, remembering why i'm actually here. "oh yeah." he quickly grabs the roll from his pocket and hands me the trash bag i requested. "thank youuu." i draw out as i walk away.

we've already filled 4 bags of plastic, and the fire pit is about full. and we are only mostly done with the first beach, we still have to cover the other sides of the island. the sandy beach by windcourt manor, and the rocky beach between mine and stan, kenny, and kyle's house. we don't speak of the other resident there.

everyone keeps their pace, and a couple of those who weren't there in the morning join us in our efforts towards the afternoon after our lunch break. we finish at 7pm. 13 bags, and weeks worths of new fire wood. 9 hours of clean up. i don't know how those ocean activists do this every day.

my goal to have wendy and bebe make up a little bit doesn't really work. they organized themselves to be in different groups, and they rarely crossed paths. heidi stayed home. my beloved mediator! i thought beach clean-up would be right up her alley, but she said she felt kind of sick and ultimately decided to stay home. she did help a little bit later in the evening with the rocky beach though, but left before everyone else was done.

me, butters, wendy, and bebe decided to meet up in the backyard of our house before entering though. sand covered our clothes, shoes, and skin. for those of us with longer hair, some of it even made it's way there. we all thought it would be easier to hose off our shoes and ourselves before stepping into the house. the black's have an outside cabinet full of towels probably for this very purpose. or the pool.

bebe is first. she winces a little at the cool water, but it quickly warms up. they have a heated hosing system. she decides to use the outdoor shower to rinse herself off though. her clothes hang outside on the painted white door, and her shoes rest on the privacy wall to the left.

then butters, then wendy, then me. our clothes are dripping wet and stick to our skin, but it's better than having to take turns waiting an hour for the shower and tracking sand in the house. i guess we could have taken them off but i don't really want to change infront of butters, and he doesn't want to change infront of us. so.

bebe floats around in the pool while she waits for us to finish drying or rinsing, depending on the person.

we all enter the house at the same time. wet footprints cover the floor, but they'll dry. i'll take a temporality wet floor over sand anyday.

heidi is in the living room on the couches. she's curled up over the arm rest on facetime, giggling, but when she takes notice of us she quickly hangs up. "ooooh heidi! who were you giggling over?" bebe prods for information. she sits on the couch opposite of heidi. "no one special. for now." she teases while smiling. "oh my god!" bebe and wendy shout excited in unison. they share a look with eachother afterwards. not one of anger, but of longing. regret. sadness.

"i'm going to get a real shower now. that was fun y/n! great idea." he bids goodnight to everyone and heads upstairs. we'll see him again for dinner but whatever. "you know who i miss?" bebe asks everyone, but not looking at wendy. well she probably misses wendy, clyde, and their relationships but i think of other people we haven't had contact with in awhile. "i haven't heard from red in a while." i reply. "yes!" she responds excitedly. "exactly who i was thinking of. i wonder how she's doing back home." she gets up from her original spot on the couch to perch on the armrest next to heidi. "we can call her?" heidi looks around for approval from the group.

"yes!" bebe answers immediately. "that would be nice" i add, and sit next to heidi. i don't care that the couch gets wet. not like i paid for it, and not like it won't dry. wendy sits to my right and we wait for red to accept heidi's facetime request.

"hey girls!" she picks up from a sunny location. definetly not south park. "we've been missing you. also, where are you right now?" bebe asks. heidi turns the phone so that red can see her. "i'm in texas! dallas to be specific. living the poolside life. cowgirl life. party life. you know how it is!" she tells her happily. "oh my god!" bebe responds.

"how's life been on the east coast?" she asks us in return.

i'm not sure she knows all about wendy and bebe. i'll remember to text her later.

"it's great!" we all say in chorus.