I can already feel a soreness beginning to spread through my arms and abs as I step into the barracks and push myself through the door to my room. My fingers fumble against the wall, searching for the light switch until the glow of the ceiling fixture eventually illuminates the small space that I now consider my home during my tour here in Hawaii. It may not seem like much to other people with its bland beige, paint-coated walls, and its plain brown and white tiled bathroom, but it is the single most private space I've been granted since the age of three, and I feel grateful to consider it my own. A single bunk bed suited for one- considering I somehow got lucky and scored a room without an assigned roommate- sits on one edge of the room, while a small kitchenette sits at the other. While there are a few improvements that can be made about the space, including, but not limited to, installing an automatic air freshener to combat its weird musty smell and removing a god awful, green and red "Mount-and-Do Me" brand sticker from the mini-refrigerator provided, I honestly would be a fool to complain.

The heavy wooden door clicks shut behind me as I remove the burden of my backpack, slinging it carelessly onto the floor before plopping myself back onto the small, bottom-bunk twin mattress. My body immediately sinks into my navy and grey bedding, feeling an immediate release from the long day of jet maintenance, surfing lessons, and the enigma that is Lelani Kahale. She absolutely kicked my ass today, and we didn't even go out into the ocean once. I'll be curious what she has up her sleeve for me two days from now. I can only hope my muscles aren't still burning by then.

My phone rings from my backpack, causing me to pull my heavy limbs away from their short-lived comfort so that I can retrieve it. My fingers unzip the bag, pulling out my phone and sitting back onto the edge of my bed as I read the message illuminated across the screen.

🔵

I laugh, kicking my head back and relaxing once more on the soft, but firm surface of my mattress as I type out my response.

⚪️

🔵

Just reading the name has my skin crawling and my eyes rolling. My fingertips tap aggressively against the screen, feeling an immediate sense of annoyance run through me as I type out my reply.

⚪️

🔵

Whatever. It's not like I'm getting in the way of anything, to begin with. If Lelani had even five minutes with Hammond, she'd realize he's up to no good.

I decide not to text anything back to Delk, but instead open back up an old thread and begin typing.

⚪️:

The text is simple, but enough to guarantee a response. Since patience is not a skill of mine, I decide to pull my mind away from the message and tuck my phone into my back pocket before making my way to the bathroom. The LED lights that line themselves above the sink vanity and mirror are practically blinding as they turn on, revealing the prominent tan lines that spread beneath my eyes and around my mouth. Just more evidence of the mark Lelani is already placing on me; I couldn't help but smile around her, she's just that damn amusing.

My phone buzzes, immediately pulling my attention away from myself and placing it onto the text message that is now waiting to be read by me.

🔵:

I find myself grinning as my eyes skim over the text. I knew she wouldn't be able to help but respond.

⚪️

🔵

⚪️:

I set my phone back down against the cool countertop of the sink, ridding myself of my shirt and continuing to inspect my reflection in the mirror. My fingers graze across my sunburned chest, flinching a little from the slight sting from my tender skin. I trail them down over my stomach, putting pressure against the inflamed muscles underneath and smirking to myself as I recall the number of times Lelani made me repeat my pop-up technique on top of the surfboard; I suppose she thought my first few times of nailing the maneuver were pure luck. She quickly realized that I'm just a fast learner.

🔵

This time I'm chuckling out loud as I'm reading over the message because I can clearly hear her patronizing but playful voice in my head.

⚪️

She's already typing back, but a loud banging on my door startles me, bringing my awareness to the loud Tennessee accent shouting from the other side. "Dawson, you in there?!" I groan, immediately recognizing the visitor as no other than Murphy himself. Another set of strikes sounds against the solid wood after I don't immediately answer. "Please! My microwave exploded and I-"

I swing the door open, cutting his words off right there, "Your microwave...exploded?" I ask dubiously, leaning against the door frame and cocking my head.

"That's what I said, isn't it? Now," He affirms, ducking under my arm and making his way into my room without permission, "I just need to heat this up and I'll be out of your way faster than a knife fight in a phone booth."

I follow Murphy, my eyes immediately landing on the glass plate in his hand, and the special chocolate-coated treat on top of it. "A MoonPie, Murphy? What the hell are you doing microwaving a MoonPie? No wonder yours exploded."

"I call it MoonPie Moonrise, Dawson." Murphy reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handful of mini-marshmallows and sprinkling them on top. His finger presses start on the microwave before leaning over and carefully watching the processed dessert rotate inside. After ten seconds, he opens the door, stopping the timer and pulling out the plate, chocolate and marshmallow now melting and oozing from the sandwiched cake. From his back pocket, Murphey pulls out a plastic fork, not hesitating another second before shoveling the steamy treat into his mouth. "Mmm, tastes like heaven." His eyes shoot back up to me, remembering my presence and offering a piece out to me through a muffled mouth, "Wanna bite?"

"I think I'm good," I chuckle. "Can I be of any further assistance?"

"Nope," He smacks his lips together, leaning back against the counter of the kitchenette and lingering casually as he takes his time dining on his late-night cuisine.

"Alrighty then," I say, coming behind him and beginning to push him back out of my room, "If you don't mind, I'm gonna shower and go to bed now."

Murphy's feet hesitate as I shove him back through the entranceway. His head turns right as I start to close the door, chocolate covering the edges of his freckled mouth. "Wait, I almost forgot! How did your little date with that peach go?"

I slam the door and lock it right in his face, laughing as I hear him detest on the other side. I bid him one last goodbye, completely ignoring his question. "Sweet dreams, Murphy."

My feet carry me back to the bathroom, and as I step in front of the mirror, the pink scar stretching across my side suddenly catches my eye. Immediately my heart starts to pound, a slideshow of memories beginning to play through my thoughts. I shake my head as if the action will help me rid myself of the recollections, but it doesn't...

My skin burns as the edge of a sharp metal meets against my side. I hiss out in pain, landing my feet back on top of the white pavement. My eyes look up to the tall metal fence I had just miserably struggled to scale, before sweeping down to the tear that's now ripped into the dark material of my shirt and wet with blood.

"Dammit," I curse quietly to myself, yanking off the hoodie that's tied across my waist and pressing it up tightly against my newly inflicted injury.

Susan is going to have my head for this one. She's told me one too many times to stop coming here, and there's no way I'm going to hide my secret excursion this time.

I take my sweet ass time as I make my way back to the group home, going through the various scenarios and excuses I'll try and use to get myself out of trouble with Susan. She won't be happy to discover my act of disobedience and she especially won't be thrilled to spot my soiled shirt.

I can already hear her reprimanding voice in my head, "Clothing doesn't grow on trees, Brodie."

One last breath leaves me as my hand turns against the knob of the front door. It creaks open, and immediately a wave of voices and noises hit my ears.

Full house, as always.

Twelve of us live here; all boys, except for Susan, our caregiver, and her much younger sister, Mia, who liked to come around and help occasionally. The group home always seemed to be awake, full of constant disorder and chaos as boys aged seven to seventeen constantly came and went through its doors.

I sneak my way past the dining room and archway of the living room, quietly tiptoeing my way up the stairs. Just as I reach the top of the landing, a door creaks open causing light to quickly fill the previously darkened hallway.

"Brodie?" A feminine voice whispers. My eyes slowly adjust to the shadow peering out of the doorway.

I gulp, immediately recognizing the familiar long, blonde hair. "Mia," I whisper back, nervous that I've been caught.

She cuts her eyes down my torso, taking in the ball of material that I'm still pressing against my side. "God, are you okay?" Panic is clear in her voice, which is growing louder and causing me to worry that Susan might overhear and find me before I'm able to clean up.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I hurry out, but before I know it, Mia is approaching me, placing an inspecting hand against the soaked material. The fragrance of her perfume is stronger than I'd ever smelt it before as she hovers close. Her arms drawback quickly, darting her fingers away as she realizes the blood now stained on them.

"Come on," she says, with her voice returning to a whisper as she pulls me into her room...

A vibrating sound interrupts the memory, bringing me back to the present moment. My dark eyes feel heavier, dark circles encompassing them as I take in my reflection. I grip my shaky hands tight against the edge of the sink, bringing my face closer to the glass. "You're tough, Brodie. Get it fucking together."

Feeling stress and anxiety starting to ripple through my core, I shove the faucet in front of me on, watching the movement of the water closely as it fills the sink before smoothly pummeling down the drain at the center. I cup my hands, splashing the liquid into my face and gasping as it's overwhelming coldness hits my skin. I force my eyes open quickly, watching the water as it drips past my jaw and splashes back down into the sink, and letting my thoughts and memories slip down the drain with it.

My phone buzzes again, seizing my attention as I read the new text bannering across the top of the screen.

🔵

And just like that, I feel my shoulders release the tension I didn't even know they were holding. I feel a grin start to pull it's way back to my face, my consciousness now completely centered on my next surfing lesson with Lelani. My hands reach over to the shower, turning it on and letting the steam from its heat slowly billow across the bathroom ceiling. My fingers type out one last and final message for the night.

⚪️

I kick off my shorts and underwear, stepping my naked body underneath the downpour of the showerhead and smiling like a fool thinking about the message as it makes its way to my new surfing instructor. She'll be sure to get a kick out of that nickname.

༄༄༄

😂

⭐️⭐️

❤️😍