𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 / 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐲

the rain pours down heavily outside, casting a gloomy shadow over the island. it was forecasted to rain yesterday, but that didn't happen and it looks like the rain multiplied in anticipation. most of the beach has been swallowed by the high tides at this point and we won't be able to go swimming for at least three days with the surge of new bacteria, so the rest of this week is pretty mush a waste. "what the fuck." i groan, acknowledging the weather. thunder booms overhead, sealing the fate for the rest of the day. there will be no fun island activities.

i get dressed appropriately for the weather and go downstairs where i am greeted by a drowsy heidi and an alert butters. "good morning!" butters shouts from his position on the couch next to heidi. "how long have you guys been up?" i ask them from the kitchen. they are both early risers. at least when you compare them to wendy and bebe. "two hours." heidi responds, "butters woke me up with his whistling." she walks into the kitchen and takes a seat ontop of the counter next to me. "whistling?" i lean on the back of the counter with my cereal bowl in hand. it has intricate designs that wrap around the top of the bowl; about what you would expect from a family with generational wealth.

"yes! i think it was yankee doodle dandy." she smiles, acknowledging the strange nature butters has. "that sounds like butters." i say, i guess a little loud because butter shouts from the couch in response. "WHAT SOUNDS LIKE ME?" he asks in a sweet southern accent. "WHISTLING, AT 6 IN THE MORNING, YANKEE DOODLE DANDY." heidi shouts back, a tinge of playful anger in her voice. heidi doesn't often get honestly angry, opting instead to ignore her feelings or passive aggressively express them before blowing up at everyone.

"sorry heidi. it's just i love the fourth of july. i am so excited." he happily exclaims. heidi looks at me and rolls her eyes. butters pauses the cartoons he was watching and joins us in the kitchen, his slippers pattering against the hardwood floor as he walks. "it's in like a month." heidi laughs and leaps off the counter. "exactly!" butters throws his hands in the air then grabs the cereal box behind me. "sorry, you just make it look real good." he grabs himself a bowl and heidi retreats upstairs.

"i thought you quit eating cereal because it makes you look like a baby?" i ask, savoring the last bite of cereal i have left. "i know but you just look like you're enjoying your cereal, so i want some too, and i know you wont judge me." he stands infront of me with his own cereal. "i am enjoying it." i confirm and rinse out my bowl. "i know- just let me get some cereal in peace, y/n, damn!" he says frustrated, but also smiling. "okay jeez. i thought you were happy in the mornings. anyways, let's use your psychic abilities again. what's going to happen with bebe and wendy today?" i ask while i dry off my dishes. "what do you mean?" he says funny, because not only does he have a slight southern accent, he has a mouthful of cereal. "locked up together? what's going to happen?" i restate. he pauses for a moment, thinking thoughtfully on his answer.

he puts his bowl with his spoon resting inside it in the sink. he never drinks the milk but this time the bowl is half full, only haven had a couple bites taken out of it. "i'm not sure. he finally says. "you don't have a single thought? fight? make up? ignore eachother?" i prod for a more specific response to my question. "nope. i'll talk to you later, i have to call my parents at nine!" he quickly makes his way up the stairs after glancing at the clock. it's 8:57. 8:58 now. i leave his bowl in the sink. why would he pour a bowl and only have three bites? it's not like he is paying for the cereal i suppose.

the large windows in the living room normally bring in a lot of light but with the overcast rainy weather the room stays dim, a perfect environment to watch some tv. the television itself is huge and high-definition, and already connected to all major streaming services. i put on 'girl interrupted' and scroll through pinterest, not paying much attention to either.

my mind wanders to the main conflict at hand. a ticking time bomb waiting to explode whenever they decide to wake up. i wonder how stan and clyde are getting along right now. kyle probably has to watch stan and keep him under control. would kenny comfort him too?

craig's outburst had to have created some tension at their own house. tolkien has to be mad about how his vacation is going so far. arguments, rain, and drinking. quite the summer. there is still so much time left though, and i'm hopeful everyone will resolve their issues.

i can't get my mind off bebe and wendy. they're both prone to fighting, and don't back down from arguments. both need the last word. i have no idea what they plan to do. or even what i plan to do. they're both my friends, but wendy is in the wrong here. you can't just cheat with your best friends boyfriend, i don't care how drunk you are. i need out of this house.

but it's raining. whatever- i'm not made of sugar. a walk outside will be fine. i run upstairs and throw on a sweater before heading out, just another layer to protect me from the cold winds outside. i don't want a jacket because it will mess up my hair, if just walk fast enough the rain won't get me.

as i go to grab my phone it lights up with a message. exactly who i wanted to talk to!

c: r u up
y: yeah i am. are you busy?
c: are you

y: no
c: do you want to come over
y: sure. i'll be there in 7 minutes.
c: so specific

maybe something happened there and that's why he texted me. maybe he is branching out this summer? either way, craig isn't my best friend who cheated on my friend with her best friends boyfriend, and i'm glad to have some shelter from the storm.

i lace up my already dirty converse and speed walk the muddy path to windcourt manor. it isn't too far away from wavecrest where me and the girls, including the honorary title of one, stay.

lightning strikes on the ocean outside. time has done little to calm the storm so far. if i was a pirate i would be stressing right now. but i am not a pirate. just stressed.

i knock quietly on the door, no point in being rude. i remember that last time craig immediately opened it, so i don't feel a need to pound on it hastily as bebe had a couple days ago.

craig keeps true to the assumption and opens the door after a couple seconds of waiting. he ushers me inside and gives me a dead stare as i stand dripping on their carpet infront of the door. "what?" i laugh confused.

"shoes please." he says blankly. i wonder if he has always had such a bored nature. it's hard to imagine him running around and laughing as a child. he's like a vampire. "thank you." he draws out annoyed and turns to walk up the steps behind him. their house is organized in a similar way to mine, but it has more wood i think. it's more 'earthy' with the planted pots in the corners of the foyer, and the beige toned carpets situated in the middle of all visible rooms.

"hello?" he calls out from the top of the stairs. "i'm coming, i'm coming. damn." i follow his steps and join him on the balcony-loft thing. from up here you have a full view of the lobby. he leads me down a hallway and then down another one until we reach a white door. a small sticker in the corner has been lazily covered by one of those 'my name' stickers filled in by craig. i noticed the other rooms have them aswell. probably something tweek or nichole thought of to differentiate between rooms. smart.

craig's chosen room is a deep navy blue reminiscent of his room back home. two pictures hang above the bed. one is of his sister, the other of his guinea pig. i think craig is home sick. his desk is cleared off apart from a leather bound notebook engraved with his initials. a diary? interesting. a water colour painting of saturn is taped up next to the window closest to his bed. i can't tell if he is the artist or his sister. i heard from tolkien that tricia is more creative then craig, but keeps his stoic presentation. maybe it runs in the family.

"when did you get another guinea pig?" i ask him. stripes the sixth died when we were in ninth grade and craig missed a week of school. he refused to talk about his abscence for months but eventually when one of this friends came over they noticed stripe was gone, and a small headstone was decorated with flowers in the backyard. i wonder does craig still put flowers on the grave?

"around spring break. i thought it was time. her name is patches because she has a white patch on her back, and another on her eye." he shrugs off his grief for stripes with a bland response.

in one corner of his room are two chairs, a table in between them and a carpet underneath. beige. the table is dark much like the rest of the room and a small plant is pushed to the back resting against the wall. it's fake. it couldn't survive with the lack of sun in the room, although i must admit there is more light then expected for craig to have.

"is there a specific reason you called me over?" i sit in one of the chairs and he joins me in the adjacent one before responding. "i don't know who else i could talk to about- you know." he pauses for a brief moment in his sentence.

i do know.