tides | jj maybank x oc

ep. 2 ~ agatha

~~~
Two days later and Luna felt she was proved right: no phone call from Kiara, no text, not even a smoke signal. Perhaps Kiara really did feel stronger about how Luna had cut her off than she'd let on?

Or perhaps she'd just got busy working at the restaurant her family owners, The Wreck?

At least in Luna's mind she hadn't been blown off, she couldn't believe it, or rather just didn't want to believe it. She could however believe that Kiara hadn't called her and that perhaps she never would. It just wasn't Kiara's choice in Luna's mind.

With the threat of hurricane Agatha looming for that evening Luna didn't have time to dwell on Kiara's lack of contact as she was furiously trying to lockdown her family's house whilst ensuring her dad kept doing his physiotherapy for his MS instead of trying to help her, and her currently drunk mother didn't ruin any of the work she was doing.

It was tedious to say the least.

But, at least with her being different, their house had more lockdown facilities than those out on the cut to the south. Not as many as the kooks did to the north though.

That was, after all, a part of Luna Bliss Rush's differences: her family home was basically smack dab in the middle of both the kooks and the pogues. Both in terms of geographical location (although it was on the pogue side of the bridge which probably explained why the kooks had a harder time accepting her than the pogues did) and the architecture of the building itself.

Apart from the blatant ostracisation it granted her, Luna was really quite happy with her house and the quality of life it provided. It was a comfortable middle ground.

So she didn't mind trying her best to protect it with the flimsy shutters, boards and locks that it did have. Even if she had to do it alone and had almost fallen off of the precariously balanced wooden ladder she was using to reach the second story windows that didn't open from the inside.

~~~

It was an especially hot day, more humid than usual too. Probably because of the approaching hurricane. So standing on my tiptoes on a ladder trying my hardest to stretch up and reach the latches on my bedroom window (one of the windows that doesn't open fully so cannot be secured from the inside) is not the most comfortable task.

I've already had to change out of my T-shirt, stripping down to just a daisy patterned bikini top and my ripped denim shorts over the matching bottoms. And I'm still sweating.

My baby hairs that have escaped the purely practical bun atop my head and are becoming extra curly and sticking themselves to my neck and face with sweat.

Overall: not an attractive picture.

Finally managing to get a purchase on the shutters padlock I click it shut and relax my aching arms, dropping them to my sides before slowly making my way down the ladder.

All of the windows now shut and locked tight, according to my mother it's far too early to have done so but given that she isn't the one doing it and I can already feel the wind picking up and moving the humid air around my head I think it's perfect timing.

I tuck the ladder back into the shed before locking that too and wriggling my way through the gap between the shed and the side of the house. When I'm out my arms are even more scrapped up and several cobwebs are clinging to me in various places.

It's mid afternoon and I can already see the darkening clouds on the horizon. Aggie's gonna be a rough one.

I find my dad doing his exercise in the back yard and grin proudly at him, "not only have I locked up the house in record time but you've about done a full set of stretches in said record time."