@pogueish (cont.)
kiara knows what it's like to be in sarah's position. at one point, that had been her, hadn't it? a mirror image of this plays out in her mind, a memory of her desperate to prove herself, drinking until she blacked out in an attempt to fit into the kook-shaped spaces that her parents had carved out for her. from the moment she walked into the academy halls she knew how different she was, how they all saw her as south side trash because no matter where she may live now, no matter how hard her father had fought to claw his way off the cut — pogue was just in their genetics, pulling her mother down with them. it had been equal parts humiliating and infuriating, the only relief coming when sarah cameron herself had extended an olive branch.
but that hadn't lasted long either and then everything had gotten even worse, but kiara doesn't dwell on those memories. not anymore. she's older now, knows exactly who she is and doesn't let anyone make her feel inferior anymore. now she watches as sarah stumbles through a party on the cut, fair features flushed from the alcohol and her words slurring as whispers of murderous fathers, unstable brothers, kook princesses and not belonging around her. kiara frowns, feels bad for her and tries to intervene before things go too far.
her heart cracks right along with sarah's voice, shaking her head and honeyed eyes move from her friend over the crowd and back again. "you are strong, sarah. you don't need to prove that to anyone — especially not a bunch of local salts who don't know what you've been through." but kiara, better than anyone else, knows that is easier said than done. it's what she had told herself once too — that it didn't matter if her peers hated her, she didn't have to prove herself to a bunch of stuck up kooks. but she had still wanted to.
"you're just as pogue as any of us," she says and she means it. she'd fight anyone here on it if they tried to argue it. point out that both of them were cut from the same cloth — ward cameron and mike carrera had grown up together, dragged themselves into fortune on figure eight and tried to set their daughter's up for better. the difference was sarah had embraced it and kiara had been pushing it away for as long as she could remember. but when it had really counted? sarah had stood with them. chosen them. done the right thing. if kiara can be accepted here, sarah can too as far as she is concerned. "more so than some. you think half those guys in there would stand in front of a gun for their friends? that they'd turn down your old life if they were given a shot at it? they wouldn't. but you did — without even thinking about it. that's some real pogue shit."
