Never Forget Taking the Brown Bomber Jacket

Vacation Time

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” England said, dumbfounded while we all stared up at the beach house that we rented out for a week in Virginia Beach.

            America smiled smugly.  “Come on, dude.  It totally wasn’t me who got you to agree to this.”  I held back a smirk as America nudged France, who had a very handsome yet devilish smile on his face.

            England turned as red as a tomato.  “Shut up.  Let’s get inside.”

            “They just want to get to the bedroom,” America muttered to me under his breath.

            A loud laugh forced its way out of me, causing England and France to look at me curiously.  “Nothing,” I told them before they could ask.  They didn’t look satisfied with that answer, but they both shrugged anyways and walked up the driveway to the front door, holding hands.

            I found myself smiling as I watched them childishly fight over who got to unlock the door (France, of course; always the romantic) and enter the obnoxiously huge house.  They were a match made in heaven—even though it took them centuries to figure that out.

            “They’re pretty good together,” America said suddenly, making me jump.  I had completely forgotten that he was still standing next to me.

            “Yeah,” I agreed.  “How long have they been a thing?”

            “About two years.  You were there when they first got together.”

            “I was?”

            America gave me a look.  “You don’t remember that either?”

            “No,” I said, shaking my head slowly.  “I don’t remember a lot.”

            “Huh,” he said, looking back up at the beach house.  “I can totally jog your memory a bit, I bet.  Maybe.”

            I snickered at him.  “Well, you got a week.  Thank god France is a lot better at creating fake identities than you and Iggy are.”

            “Hey!  We made perfectly legit identities!”

            I laughed, rolling my eyes.  “I figured it out within a minute of you telling me!  They were so obvious!”

            “No they weren’t!”

            “Yes they were!”

            He huffed and stuck his tongue out at me childishly before running towards the house.

            “Hey!” I exclaimed, chasing after him.  “That automatically makes me win the argument!”

            He just laughed and slammed the door in my face as soon as I reached it.  I pounded on the door, shouting at him to let me in.  Then I realized I hadn’t actually tried to open it, and turned the knob.  It was still open.  I rolled my eyes and entered the house, closing and locking the door behind me.  That was such an America move.

            I scoped out the first floor since I didn’t have any of my luggage with me.  The front door immediately led me to the entertainment center—giant flat screen TV embedded into the wall with little spots underneath it to fit all the gaming systems and the cable box, leather couch that ran the length of the back wall, and a coffee table that double as a really weird yet cool lava lamp.  I had no idea how that was possible, but I guessed it was.