Finding Minnie (A Two-Bit Love Story)

The Midnight Sun

Okay, quick thing to cover - a soak is a drunk, if you didn't know. And a bampot is an idiot. And the picture in the media box is pretty self-explanatory. Okay, read on, enjoy :) 

After I fell asleep, something felt wrong. I couldn't stay under, and constantly woke up in a cold sweat. After a while, a sense of ill-at-ease settled over me, and I pulled the sleeping bag over my head.

Boy, was it cold, I thought with a small shiver. I hugged the sleeping bag tighter around myself. I heard the sound of crickets, and of an engine rumble past.

Oh, I thought. Someone must have opened the window.

I vaguely remembered Charlie telling me about how Fox always slept with the window open - she was slightly claustrophobic. So I thought nothing of it.

I closed my eyes again, hoping that the heavy lull of sleep would beckon, but I wasn't that lucky. The distant yelling of some drunks filtered through the window. How odd. This was a really good neighborhood. All the houses were brightly colored, the lawns were pristine, and everyone knew everyone - civil, respected citizens. Your standard white picket-fence suburbia.

The yelling seemed to get closer, and I pulled my pillow over my head.

We're trying to sleep, here,  I thought irately. But the yelling only advanced closer to us. Suddenly, there were whistles and cat-calls permeating the air too.

What the jum?

I was at my last straw, so I decided I had better get up and shut the window. I slowly sat upright, grumbling to myself. The light glowed. Wait - I turned it off last night. I looked around, and noticed Fox wasn't in her sleeping bag. Or the tent, for that matter.

"Fox?" I whispered. "Fox?" I said a little louder. There was no response, but for Charlie stirring a little in her sleep. Marie shivered.

I stood up, half-crouched from the low top, and pulled back the tent flap. It was unzipped.

I stepped out, and my feet hit damp earth and lush grass.

This was not my bedroom.

I felt a heavy granite brick drop into my stomach. We were outside. It was the middle of the night. And I had no clue where we were. The grass stretched for another hundred feet, then reached a cracked sidewalk, lining some pavement.

What is happening? Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.

"Fox?" I choked out. "Fox!"

Maybe I'm dreaming. WAKE UP. Nothing happened. I pinched myself for good measure. This is bad. What is happening?

"Get your fucking filthy-ass hands off of me!"

"Ooooh," a bunch of voices chorused, followed by laughter.

I turned my head in the direction of the familiar voice [vocabulary] so fast I almost snapped my neck. But I didn't see my flame-haired friend. I saw a group of guys, crowded and circled around a tree, clutching glass bottles and whooping and tripping.

Don't yell, a voice reminded me vaguely in the back of my head. Don't attract attention to yourself. You could get hurt.

The voice in my head really thought I was going to listen to it? But I didn't know which would be more insane - yelling for Fox or obeying the voices in my head. I decided to yell.

"Fox!" I cried, sprinting towards the drunken huddle. Marie had always said that she and Dad had over-sized hearts. When I was little, I had taken her literally, and thought I was afflicted with the same - and that's why I could feel my heart beating in my throat.