"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Things should have been looking up, once Jamie found other people. She had expected, at the very least, a bit of conversation, an offer of assistance, something. Instead, she was surprised by the sound of someone behind her, and, upon turning, her personal space was immediately invaded by a boy she recognized from the football team (Ricky, she thought). She was a bit tempted to shake him off; with her wrestling experience it would have been easy. That was nerves talking, though; he was being friendly, helpful. Would probably give her water, if she asked nicely. Maybe even food.

So she smiled and nodded and said, "Ah, great," as Ricky talked her ear off about everything and how he was doing fine and who the people down the beach were and all those other little pertinent details.

Of course, it was all immediately fucked up when the other girl, the one person Ricky hadn't seemed able to identify, turned and casually shot a bullet into the sand. Jamie jerked, adrenaline pulsing through her veins, thoughts of thirst forgotten entirely in the heat of the moment, the potential for imminent death staring her right in the face. The girl started talking, talking about how she was in charge, how she wanted to be left alone. Logan seemed pretty convinced by the argument, and took off running. Jamie was tempted to follow, but paused for a second. If they split now, there would be nothing stopping this girl from shooting them in the back. It could all be a trick to get them to drop their guard; after all, as it was right now, the odds were decent enough that at least one of them would reach the girl with the gun if she opened up.

"What should we do?" she asked Ricky in a whisper. He'd likely seen more conflict than Jamie had. It'd probably be best to follow his lead here.
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A Day at the Beach · The Beach: East