「 ✦ MAILBOXES, AM I RIGHT✦ 」

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MJ SAT AT HER desk, head resting on her hand, drumming her fingers lazily against her cheek as she waited for the clock to tick down. She had finished the test ten minutes ago, and now she was fighting off the boredom with everything in her. Her twin, JJ, on the other hand, was furiously squinting at his paper, tapping his pencil like it might unlock the mysteries of the universe.

MJ smirked, leaning over slightly and angling her paper just enough for JJ to see. "Hey, dumbass," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear. "Eyes this way. Try not to make it obvious."

JJ glanced at her and grinned, mouthing a quick thank you before his eyes darted back to her paper. MJ resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I swear, if you fail this, it's not on me," she whispered, tapping the paper once for emphasis.

Kie, sitting a row ahead, turned slightly and whispered, "You seriously giving him the answers again?"

"Yup," MJ said, biting back a grin. "Just doing my part to keep him semi-literate."

JJ snorted quietly and gave her a thumbs-up, causing Kie to narrow her eyes suspiciously. "MJ, don't think I didn't see you circling the answers to make a smiley face."

"Wait, what?" JJ's head snapped up, his expression caught between betrayal and disbelief.

"Relax," MJ said with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. "The smiley face is coincidentally correct. You're welcome."

JJ glared at her, but his smirk betrayed him. "If I fail, I'm blaming you."

"You should blame your own two brain cells for not showing up today," MJ shot back, crossing her arms smugly.

Before JJ could fire back, the door opened, and a man in a suit stepped into the room, catching everyone's attention. He leaned toward their teacher, Mr. Sunn, and spoke in hushed tones, but it was clear whatever he was saying was urgent.

"Mr. Sunn, can I borrow Pope for a moment?" the man asked, his voice calm but insistent.

"We're in the middle of a test," Mr. Sunn whispered, clearly trying to brush him off.

"It's important. I'm with the Vanderhorst Foundation," the man replied, and that was all it took for the teacher to nod and call Pope to the door.

As Pope stepped out, MJ leaned forward on her desk, craning her neck in an attempt to eavesdrop. "What's going on out there?" she muttered to herself, squinting like that would help her hear better.

JJ kicked her chair lightly. "You're gonna fall over if you keep leaning like that."

"Mind your business, JJ," MJ shot back, waving him off but nearly tipping over as she did. She quickly straightened, brushing it off like nothing happened. JJ shook his head, biting back a laugh.

When Pope came back in, his face was a mix of confusion and unease. He sat down quietly, sliding a letter onto the desk, but not before MJ caught sight of the wax seal on the back. Her curiosity piqued.

"Is that the wheat symbol?" MJ asked, leaning forward again, this time a little more gracefully.

"It's from the Royal Merchant," Pope whispered back, his voice tight with tension.

JJ, apparently done pretending to care about the test, slammed his pencil down and exclaimed, "What the fu—" He caught himself mid-word, glancing at the teacher before correcting, "—fudge?"

MJ snickered, shaking her head at him. "Smooth, genius. Real smooth."

"Shut up," JJ muttered, picking up his paper again. Instead of finishing his test, he started folding it into a paper airplane.

MJ raised an eyebrow, watching him with amused disbelief. "Wow. Truly groundbreaking work, JJ. That's sure to earn you an A."

"Better than your smiley-face sabotage," he shot back without looking up.

Deciding she had tormented him enough, MJ grabbed an eraser and scrubbed out her name on her test. Then she scribbled JJ's name at the top, slid it onto his desk, and swapped it with his blank paper.

JJ glared at her. "MJ, stop doing that. I hate when you do that."

"Yeah, yeah," MJ said, waving him off. "Let me save your sorry ass in peace."

She scribbled down enough answers to make it look believable, wrote her name on the new paper, and walked up to the front of the room to hand it in. She shot JJ a smug look on the way back to her desk.

As soon as the bell rang, MJ grabbed her bag and leaned against the lockers, waiting for the others to finish. JJ strolled out, shaking his head at her with a mix of annoyance and gratitude. "You're a menace, you know that?"

"Yeah," MJ said with a smirk, pushing off the lockers. "But we share DNA so what does that make you? You're welcome, by the way."

As they walked down the hallway, Pope caught up with MJ and JJ, holding his test paper in his hand. "MJ," he called out, shaking his head. "For the record, those answers you gave JJ? They didn't make a smiley face on the Scantron."

MJ turned around, an innocent grin plastered across her face. "What? Are you sure? Because I worked really hard on that artistic masterpiece."

Pope sighed, holding up the paper. "Nope. It's more like... a weird abstract frown. If Scantrons graded on vibes, JJ would've just flunked."

JJ groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "Are you serious right now, MJ? You're telling me my test looks like some Picasso reject? I'm doomed."

"Relax, twin," MJ said, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "If it doesn't pan out, you can always say you were being creative. Maybe they'll give you extra credit for emotional expression or something."

Pope looked between them, unamused. "Why do you even let her do this, JJ? It didn't even look like a smiley face in the first place. Plus the answer we're pretty much alternating a,c, a. It's sabotage."

"Because if she didn't, I'd have turned in a blank test," JJ admitted, shrugging MJ's arm off. "And let's be real, a Picasso reject is still better than nothing."

Kie joined them, smirking as she overheard the conversation. "You two are ridiculous. MJ, you can't keep bailing him out forever."

"Why not?" MJ countered her tone with light and teasing. "It's what siblings do. I provide answers; he provides... uh..." She turned to JJ, narrowing her eyes mockingly. "What exactly do you bring to this dynamic, again?"

JJ feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically. "Excuse you! I bring charm, wit, and the ability to make everyone laugh. I'm the personality of this operation, thank you very much."

"Ah, yes, the personality," MJ said, nodding sagely. "Because that's definitely what's going to get you through the rest of high school."

The group laughed, but Pope shook his head again. "I just can't believe you convinced JJ those answers were right. And the whole smiley-face thing? Completely fabricated."

JJ's face fell. "Wait, so you weren't even trying to help me? You were just doodling?"

MJ smirked, tapping the side of her head. "I prefer the term 'multitasking.' Besides, you'll probably pass. I threw in a couple of real answers to keep it interesting."

Kie snorted. "You're the worst. JJ, she's not a lifeline; she's chaos."

"And yet," MJ said, throwing her arms out dramatically, "you all keep me around. Weird how that works, huh?"

JJ shook his head, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "One day, you're gonna get me expelled."

MJ clapped him on the back. "Nah, I'll just help you cheat your way to graduation. Twins gotta stick together, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," JJ muttered, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the grin on his face. "Just don't turn my next test into a sad emoji, okay?"

"No promises," MJ replied, winking as they walked together. 

Inside the library, the Pogues settled into their usual corner. JJ threw himself dramatically into a chair, waving his test paper around. "I'm telling you, my answers have to be at least half right. I know I nailed some of those questions, thanks to MJ's... uh... questionable tutoring techniques."

MJ smirked, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open. "Oh. I'm sure your Picasso smiley face answers will go down in Scantron history."

Kie leaned on the table, rolling her eyes at their antics. "Okay, fine, MJ. What about that question on the test—'What year did the Royal Merchant sink?'"

Without hesitation, MJ sat up straighter and answered confidently, "1705."

Pope, who had been quietly flipping through a book, froze mid-page turn. His head slowly lifted as he stared at her. "1705? Are you serious right now?"

"What?" MJ said, her tone defensive as she gestured at him. "That's right. Isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Pope said, exasperated. "It sank in 1829. How do you not know this? We've literally talked about it a hundred times!"

JJ leaned back in his chair, grinning smugly. "See, this is why I trust my gut over her so-called answers. I bet I got that one right without even trying."

"Don't get cocky, Einstein," MJ shot back, throwing a crumpled scrap of paper at him. "You circled '1492' because, and I quote, 'That's when Columbus sailed the ocean blue, and it just felt right.'"

The group burst into laughter, JJ's smug expression crumbling. "Okay, first of all, it did feel right. Second of all, maybe your wrong answers threw off my genius flow."

Kie shook her head, laughing as she leaned back in her chair. "Honestly, how are you two even related? One of you is chaos, and the other is... slightly more chaotic."

"Twins," MJ said with a shrug, pointing between herself and JJ. "We share a brain cell, and we take turns using it. Clearly, today was his day."

"Clearly," Pope muttered, shaking his head but smiling.

JJ leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he eyed MJ. "For the record, you owe me big if I pass that test. Your doodles almost ruined me."

"Relax," MJ replied with a grin, propping her feet up on the table. "If you fail, I'll just fake your report card. What else are twins for?"

Kie groaned. "Please don't. The last thing we need is Luke showing up at school again because of one of your schemes."

JJ smirked. "She's not wrong, though. Twins gotta stick together."

MJ saluted him mockingly. "Ride or die, baby."

"Is this a game of tag?" JJ asked as they continued into the library, his voice carrying just loud enough to earn a glare from the librarian.

MJ groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as they walked further in. "No, JJ, it's a game of how fast can I lose my mind listening to you talk. Spoiler alert: You're winning."

"I aim to please," JJ shot back with a grin, elbowing her playfully.

"I don't know," Kie snapped, clearly frustrated as they followed Pope to their usual table. "Maybe if you let Pope explain instead of running your mouth, you'd find out."

"Am I gonna have to beat him with a protractor, or is someone going to spill the tea already?" JJ continued, oblivious to the dirty looks the librarian kept throwing their way.

"Sit down and shut up before you get us banned from yet another building," MJ muttered, grabbing JJ by the arm and dragging him into a seat. She rolled her eyes as he flopped into the chair dramatically.

"Seriously, Pope," Kie said as she sank into her seat, tapping her nails on the table impatiently. "What's going on? You've been cryptic since class, and it's getting annoying."

Pope sighed and pulled out a folded letter from his back pocket, setting it on the table. "That guy was from the scholarship committee. But it's bigger than that. Just... read this."

JJ snatched the letter off the table, squinting at it for a moment before freezing. He glanced at MJ, then back at the paper, then sighed, slumping in his chair. "I can't read cursive," he admitted begrudgingly, his voice barely above a mumble.

MJ arched a brow, trying to suppress a grin. "You can't read cursive? What are you, a kindergartener?"

JJ shot her a glare. "Says the one who answered a test to make her scantron look like a smiley face. Just read the damn thing, would ya?"

"Fine, whatever," MJ said, snatching the letter from him. She cleared her throat dramatically before reading aloud:

"'Dear Mr. Heyward, I'm reaching out because I have material evidence that can exonerate John B Routledge. It is of vital importance that you come and meet with me in person at my offices at 27 King Street, Charleston, at 8 p.m. sharp tonight. Please come alone. Regards, C. Limbrey.'"

The group fell silent as MJ finished, her voice trailing off. She placed the letter on the table and leaned back in her chair. "Well, that sounds sketchy as hell. Is anyone else getting 'serial killer vibes,' or is it just me?"

Pope started pacing, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he stared at the ground. "Charleston," he muttered. "It's an eight-hour drive—plus the ferry. How are we supposed to get there by 8 p.m.?"

JJ shrugged, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the table. "I mean, we'd have to leave, like, now. But I'm down for a road trip."

MJ smacked his feet off the table, causing him to almost tip backward. "Oh, yeah, great idea, JJ. Let's just drop everything and head to Charleston like we've got a private jet waiting. Totally doable."

"Relax, MJ," JJ shot back, sitting up straight again. "It's not like you have anything better to do."

"Better than spending eight hours in a car with your annoying ass? Literally anything," MJ replied, though her tone had softened slightly.

"I have a free period," Kie said, breaking the tension as she glanced between the twins.

"Great," JJ said, clapping his hands together. "We've got a plan. Now, let's get moving before Pope has an aneurysm."

Pope shot him a withering look but didn't argue, instead grabbing his bag and heading for the door. MJ lingered behind for a moment, shaking her head as she looked at JJ.

"You're lucky I don't strangle you in your sleep, you know that?"

JJ smirked. "Twin privilege, baby. You wouldn't last a day without me."

"Keep telling yourself that," MJ muttered, but she couldn't help the small grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she followed him out.

"Material evidence? What does that even mean—like, a bloody glove or something?" JJ asked, his confusion written all over his face.

MJ smirked, leaning back in her chair. "No, genius, it means they have something real that could clear John B. Not a metaphorical vibe or a fortune cookie clue."

"Oh, great, thanks for clearing that up, professor," JJ shot back, rolling his eyes.

"It means he can come home, dumbass," MJ said, her smirk widening. "So yeah, we're going to Charleston. I'll drive."

All three of them—JJ, Pope, and Kie—snapped their heads toward her and said in perfect unison, "No."

MJ threw her hands up. "Wow, okay, the disrespect. I'm a great driver!"

"You backed into a mailbox last week," JJ deadpanned.

"It was camouflaged," MJ retorted. "Who paints a mailbox green and sticks it in the middle of a jungle driveway?"

"Everyone in the Outer Banks," Pope muttered, rubbing his temple like he was already regretting this conversation.

"Whatever," MJ huffed. "Fine. One of you can drive. But when we end up in a ditch because JJ thinks stop signs are 'optional,' don't come crying to me."

JJ ignored her jab and stood, clapping his hands. "Alright, then it's settled. Charleston or bust. Let's go save John B."

"We need a plan," Pope cut in, holding up a hand. "We can't just show up at some shady office in Charleston and hope for the best."

Kie nodded. "And I need to tell my mom before we take off. If she finds out I skipped school for this and didn't check in, I'll be grounded for life."

"Yeah, yeah, you do that," JJ said, already pulling his phone out. "I'm gonna grab some snacks for the road."

"And by snacks, you mean gas station beer?" MJ asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you see me denying it?" JJ grinned.

Pope shook his head, already exasperated. "Guys, focus. This is about exonerating John B, not getting kicked out of another Circle K."

MJ crossed her arms, the snark dropping from her tone for a moment. "Look, if this guy can clear John B, then we're doing it. I don't care how shady it is. John B needs us, and we're not bailing on him."

The room went quiet for a beat before JJ reached over and ruffled MJ's hair. "Look at you getting all sentimental. Gross."

"Touch me again, and I'll throw your surfboard in the swamp," MJ threatened, swatting his hand away.

Pope, clearly used to their bickering, ignored them and started typing something into his phone. "I'll find the address and map it out. We'll need to leave soon if we want to make it by 8."

Kie stood, already halfway out the door. "I'll meet you guys at the docks after I talk to my mom. Don't leave without me."

As Kie left, MJ looked at Pope. "Alright, navigator, you're in charge of the map. JJ, you're in charge of snacks—and no, beer doesn't count. And me? I'll just sit back and look pretty."

JJ snorted. "More like sit back and criticize my driving the whole way."

"It's a full-time job," MJ shot back as they all started toward the exit.

────

"Whatever," MJ huffed. "Fine. One of you can drive. But when we end up in a ditch because JJ thinks stop signs are 'optional,' don't come crying to me."

JJ ignored her jab and stood, clapping his hands. "Alright, then it's settled. Charleston or bust. Let's go save John B."

"We need a plan," Pope cut in, holding up a hand. "We can't just show up at some shady office in Charleston and hope for the best."

Kie nodded. "And I need to tell my mom before we take off. If she finds out I skipped school for this and didn't check in, I'll be grounded for life."

"Yeah, yeah, you do that," JJ said, already pulling his phone out. "I'm gonna grab some snacks for the road."

"And by snacks, you mean gas station beer?" MJ asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you see me denying it?" JJ grinned.

Pope shook his head, already exasperated. "Guys, focus. This is about exonerating John B, not getting kicked out of another Circle K."

MJ crossed her arms, the snark dropping from her tone for a moment. "Look, if this guy can clear John B, then we're doing it. I don't care how shady it is. John B needs us, and we're not bailing on him."

The room went quiet for a beat before JJ reached over and ruffled MJ's hair. "Look at you getting all sentimental. Gross."

"Touch me again, and I'll throw your surfboard in the swamp," MJ threatened, swatting his hand away.

Pope, clearly used to their bickering, ignored them and started typing something into his phone. "I'll find the address and map it out. We'll need to leave soon if we want to make it by 8."

Kie stood, already halfway out the door. "I'll meet you guys at the docks after I talk to my mom. Don't leave without me."

As Kie left, MJ looked at Pope. "Alright, navigator, you're in charge of the map. JJ, you're in charge of snacks—and no, beer doesn't count. And me? I'll just sit back and look pretty."

JJ snorted. "More like sit back and criticize my driving the whole way."

"It's a full-time job," MJ shot back as they all started toward the exit.

"Why would you hit a mailbox on purpose?!" Kie demanded, exasperation oozing from every word.

"It was a statement," MJ said simply, her grin widening. "An artistic choice. That mailbox had it coming."

JJ pinched the bridge of his nose. "For the love of God, MJ, can you not incriminate yourself every five minutes?"

"What? I'm just saying," MJ replied, shrugging. "It was blocking my vibe."

"Your vibe?" Kie asked her hands on her hips. "What even is your vibe?"

"Unmatched and unapologetic," MJ quipped, shooting her twin a wink.

Kie groaned, climbing into the backseat and slamming the door behind her. "I swear, you two are going to kill me before the cops or Rafe or whatever else we're dealing with does."

"Relax, Kie," JJ said, twisting in his seat to look at her. "It was just one mailbox. And if we're being fair, it's probably safer than her skateboarding through traffic."

MJ gasped in mock offence. "First of all, I am an excellent skateboarder."

"You're an excellent menace," JJ corrected.

"Same thing," MJ fired back, starting the engine again. "Now buckle up, folks. You're about to witness greatness."

JJ groaned as the van lurched forward, and Kie buried her face in her hands. "We're doomed," she muttered.

"Doomed but entertained," MJ said cheerfully as she pulled out of Kie's driveway. "That's the Pogue way, baby."

As MJ backed out of Kie's driveway with all the confidence in the world, there was a sickening thud followed by the unmistakable sound of wood cracking.

Everyone froze. MJ leaned forward to peer over the steering wheel, her face scrunched up in exaggerated thought. "Hmm... was that—?"

"You just hit Kie's mailbox!" JJ hollered, throwing his hands in the air.

Kie whipped around to look, her jaw dropping when she saw her once-upright mailbox now leaning pathetically to one side. "Oh my God, MJ! Seriously?!"

MJ shrugged nonchalantly. "Oopsie."

"OOPSIE?!" Kie shrieked. "That's not an 'oopsie,' that's a felony against mailboxes! My dad is going to kill me!"

"Well, technically, it's still standing," MJ offered, gesturing toward the mailbox that now leaned at a precarious angle. "See? That's what we call structural integrity."

JJ groaned, opening his door and stomping around to the driver's side. "Alright, that's it. Out. Out of the driver's seat, MJ."

"What? It's fine!" MJ protested though she unbuckled her seatbelt anyway. "You said I could drive, and I've been doing a fantastic job. The mailbox was just an unfortunate casualty."

JJ pulled open the door and pointed toward the back. "Go. Now. Before you back into her house next."

MJ let out an exaggerated sigh, sliding out of the seat and shoving past him. "Fine, but for the record, I was doing great until the mailbox decided to throw itself in my way."

Kie slapped her hand against her forehead, muttering under her breath as MJ climbed into the back. "You're lucky my dad's not home."

JJ climbed into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut and gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him sane. "Alright, everyone buckle up. No more mailbox massacres on my watch."

From the backseat, MJ crossed her arms and leaned back smugly. "You're just jealous of my natural driving talent."

"Yeah, okay," JJ shot back as he adjusted the mirrors. "If by 'natural talent,' you mean 'natural disaster,' then sure."

Kie groaned again. "Can we please just go before my mom sees this?"

"Relax, Kie," MJ said with a smirk. "I'll fix it later. A little duct tape and paint, and it'll be good as new."

JJ shook his head as he pulled out of the driveway, giving the battered mailbox a sideways glance. "You know what? You're banned from driving the Twinkie forever."

MJ gasped in mock offence. "Forever? That's harsh, JJ. I'm your twin, your ride-or-die!"

"Yeah," JJ said flatly, "and that mailbox almost became the die part of the equation."

Kie snorted despite herself, and MJ sat back with a smug grin, clearly satisfied she'd gotten at least one laugh out of the chaos. "You'll all miss my driving one day. Mark my words."

────

"My parents are so paranoid about me being a Pogue like it's the worst thing that could ever happen," Kie complained, throwing her hands in the air dramatically.

"Oh yeah," JJ chimed in, sitting on the roof of the car like it was his throne. "Total disaster. Who needs personal freedom when you've got country club memberships and curfews?"

Kie shot him a glare. "I'm not going to boarding school, JJ."

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it," JJ shrugged. "You might find some long-lost talent, like polo or, I don't know, macrame."

MJ leaned lazily against the hood of the car, crossing her arms. "Yeah, sure, JJ. Because you're the poster child for high society extracurriculars."

JJ pointed at her with mock seriousness. "Listen, MJ, I'd make one hell of a polo player if I ever felt like it."

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England," MJ snorted.

"I mean, if the crown fits..."

Kie groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can we not do this right now?"

"Well, unless they tie me up, throw me in a van, and ship me off, I'm staying right here," Kie added, determined.

JJ handed her his spliff and grinned. "That's the spirit. Wanna crumble some herb and plan the great escape?"

"Hey, Kie," Pope interjected, more concerned with the bigger picture, "did you try to call John B again? Anything?"

"Like, twenty million times," Kie replied with a shrug, taking a puff and handing it back. "Some random lady at a hotel keeps answering."

MJ rolled her eyes, tilting her head toward Pope. "Guess we're not adding 'detective' to Kie's list of talents, huh?"

"Har-har," Kie deadpanned.

"Alright, focus," Pope cut in, trying to keep the group on track. "Until we hear from John B, this letter's our best shot at clearing his name."

"Stay on task. Love that about you, Pope," JJ said with a smirk, leaning back on his elbows.

Kie handed the spliff to Pope with a sly smile. "So, what Pope are we getting today? Rebel Pope? Stick-to-the-rules Pope?"

MJ raised an eyebrow, already shaking her head. "Pope, don't let her peer pressure you. You're better than that."

Pope hesitated, clearly torn.

Before he could respond, MJ snatched the spliff. "Yeah, no. Not happening." She turned to JJ and Kie. "If you two want to kill your last remaining brain cells, fine, but leave Pope out of it."

JJ clutched his chest dramatically. "MJ, your concern is so touching. Truly."

"Aw, I try," MJ shot back with a sarcastic grin before tossing the spliff overboard into the water.

"MJ!" JJ yelled, looking like he might dive in after it.

"Whoops," she said flatly. "Guess the ocean needed it more than you did."

Kie burst out laughing, and Pope smiled, relieved.

"Alright, I'm out. Y'all are exhausting," MJ announced, hopping out of the car. She gestured toward Pope. "C'mon, Pope, let's go for a walk. Maybe some fresh air will undo whatever brain rot I just witnessed."

Pope gave a small shrug and followed her.

As they strolled away from the car, MJ linked arms with her twin, smirking. "So, Pope, why do you let Kie treat you like that?"

"Like what?" Pope asked, feigning ignorance.

MJ scoffed. "Like you're her experiment. She's always trying to poke and prod and see what you'll do."

"It's not that deep," Pope said with a small chuckle.

"Sure it's not," MJ replied dryly, shaking her head. "One day, you'll thank me for being the voice of reason."

"Voice of reason?" Pope said incredulously. "You just hit a mailbox this morning."

"On purpose," MJ clarified with a smirk. "Big difference."

MJ gave Pope a blank look, clearly unimpressed. "You know what I mean. The way Kie treats you isn't okay."

"'Good Pope. Boring Pope,'" MJ mimicked in a high-pitched voice, rolling her eyes dramatically. "What's next, 'Do my homework, Pope'? You don't deserve that."

Pope chuckled despite himself, but the small smile faded as he looked down, almost guilty. "Yeah, well, it's not like I'm stopping her," he muttered.

MJ crossed her arms and gave him a sharp look. "Exactly. You're letting her walk all over you. She doesn't even realize she's doing it because you're letting it happen."

Pope stayed quiet, the guilt settling deeper. MJ wasn't one to sugarcoat things, and her words had a way of cutting through.

"Don't get me wrong," MJ added, softer this time. "I love Kie. She was one of my first friends here—like a sister. But people change, and she takes you for granted, Pope."

Pope sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, I used to think she had a thing for JJ. Or John B."

MJ snorted. "Honestly, who doesn't have a thing for JJ or John B at some point? They're like walking trouble magnets with hair gel. Plus look at me, as if I'd have an ugly twin."

Pope laughed, but there was a bitterness to it. "Then she's all over me one day, and now it's like... this. Like I'm just there when she needs something."

A silence fell between them, heavy but not awkward. MJ glanced sideways at him, her expression softening. She wasn't great at emotional stuff, but Pope was one of the few people she cared about.

Pope finally broke the silence. "I just don't get what I did wrong." His voice was quiet, almost defeated.

MJ stopped walking and grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, first of all, stop that. You didn't do anything wrong. Kie's got her own stuff going on, and that's not on you."

Pope opened his mouth to protest, but MJ held up a hand to cut him off. "Second of all, if you want her to treat you better, you gotta start acting like you deserve better. Because you do. You're Pope Heyward. You're, like, the smartest guy I know. And you're the only person who hasn't tried to kill me or JJ with some half-baked scheme."

"Yet," Pope quipped, trying to hide a small smile.

MJ smirked. "Don't push it. Anyway, the point is, stop letting her treat you like an afterthought. You're not some backup plan, Pope."

Pope nodded slowly, taking her words in. After a moment, he tilted his head at her. "You know, maybe you should take your own advice when it comes to Rafe."

MJ blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You let Rafe Cameron take up way too much space in your head," Pope said, smirking just enough to make her glare at him.

"That's different," MJ shot back, throwing her hands up. "Rafe's a psycho. I'm just trying to keep tabs on him so he doesn't, you know, murder us."

"Right," Pope said dryly. "Because that's all it is."

"Alright, that's enough wisdom for today, Yoda," MJ snapped, walking off ahead of him. "Let's get back before JJ starts using the car roof as a diving board."

Pope followed, still smiling to himself. "You're deflecting."

"And you're annoying," MJ called over her shoulder. "We all have our flaws."

MJ was leaning against the car, scrolling through her phone while Pope and JJ went back and forth on the best snacks for the trip. Their constant bickering had become white noise in the background. But when her phone buzzed with a new message, she glanced at it, half expecting it to be one of the usual sarcastic or infuriating texts from Rafe.

Instead, it was... unexpected.

Rafe Cameron: So I found your guitar lying around. Thought I'd give it a shot. Trying to learn something about it. Hope you don't mind.

MJ's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Rafe? Trying to play her guitar? This was new.

MJ: Wait, you're trying to learn guitar? Is this one of your 'I'm too cool for this' things, or is there some deep existential crisis I need to know about?

A few seconds passed, and she was about to dismiss it when the three dots appeared again, followed by his reply.

Rafe: Maybe a little of both. But seriously, I'm not terrible. I figured I'd at least try something new, and you always said it helps with "finding yourself" or whatever.

MJ chuckled. That sounded like something she would've said, but it also sounded completely absurd coming from him.

MJ: You, finding yourself? Now I really need to see this.

Rafe: Well, I'm not great yet, but I'm working on it. It's harder than it looks, though.

MJ: No kidding. You can't just pick it up and expect to be a rockstar.

There was a slight pause before his next message came through.

Rafe: Alright, fine. I'm more of a work-in-progress.

MJ leaned back against the car, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. There was something... endearing about this. Rafe Cameron, of all people, actually putting in effort.

MJ: Don't get too ahead of yourself, Cameron. You'll end up breaking my guitar.

Rafe: Not unless you want me to. I could make a "Rafe Cameron Original" out of it.

MJ: Please don't.

She couldn't help but laugh softly to herself. Rafe, trying to play guitar, was a sight she never thought she'd see, but there it was. A weird, unexpected side of him.

Rafe: I'll try not to ruin it. But hey, I've got something new to blame for my bad mood now, so thanks.

MJ raised an eyebrow at that, wondering if it was a dig or if he was being... honest. It was hard to tell with Rafe, but she couldn't resist replying.

MJ: Glad I could contribute to your emotional development, Cameron.

She didn't expect a response for a while, but then her phone buzzed again.

Rafe: I'm serious, though. It's been a weird few days, and I didn't know what else to do with myself. So, yeah... I guess I'm trying something new. Thought you'd appreciate that.

For a second, MJ was caught off guard by his unexpected honesty. Normally, she wouldn't care much about the way Rafe felt, but this time, his text didn't just make her roll her eyes.

MJ: Well, don't go soft on me now. You're still Rafe Cameron. Just try not to kill my guitar, alright?

Rafe's reply came through almost immediately.

Rafe: No promises.

MJ chuckled under her breath and shoved her phone back in her pocket as JJ climbed into the driver's seat.

"Who are you texting?" he asked, not looking away from the rearview mirror.

"No one important," MJ said quickly, waving her hand dismissively.

"Uh-huh." JJ raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't be smiling like that if it was 'no one important.'"

MJ shot him a side-eye. "Mind your own business, McCauley. You don't want to know."

"Whatever, mailbox killer," JJ teased, pulling out of the driveway.

She rolled her eyes, but deep down, the weird, unexpected moment with Rafe lingered.