Although many knew of Katie Austen, the way that those from small towns were often hyper-aware of their neighbors, few could claim to really know the girl herself, and she preferred it this way. Nosy as the population was, what went on between Wayne and Diane was hardly a well-kept secret, and on some level, she resented every one of those so-called neighbors for watching and standing by. It was no one's responsibility, but she liked to think that were she an adult in any position to help, she would have tried. In fact, Kate longed for the day when she could finally drag her mother from Wayne's clutches, one way or another.

Impossibly far from home, she couldn't help feeling guilty at having left Diane on her own, whether by choice or not, but if nothing else, life thus far had taught her to push forward, to persevere. Thoughts of home were stopped in their tracks, banished someplace as far and away as she understood this island was. Albeit reluctantly, she finally allowed herself to embrace the circumstances in some way, basking in how little attention she was being paid. She'd had a reputation for trouble since she could remember, adults warily watching her every step while instructing their children to steer clear of the Austen girl. But here, she wasn't bad news, nor was she good news, she simply was. It felt incredibly freeing.

Yet Kate had never been an especially calm or patient girl, and after a few hours, the tranquil finally started getting to her. Keeping to herself would do no more, even if she doubted she could contribute to the efforts to help those afflicted this afternoon — there was a good chance she was one of them herself, whether she remembered or not. She wasn't especially interested in finding out. Aimlessly, she ambled through and around the Compound, until at last she took a seat beside the boy on the porch. "Hi," she said with a small wave. "What're you writing?"