Don't Be The Hero

Eighteen

Nina pov

Remember that party everyone was talking about? The one Lucas and Lyrica were having? Yeah, when they said next month, I thought they meant in the middle of next month. It turns out that the party was a week after my weird memory episode on the mission. To be exact, May 26th. Not exactly next month now is it?

After a full day of training, and minor headaches, the Oklahomans piled us into their red truck. The two of them, me and Jack, and Annie Matt. I road in the back next to a bunch of wood and a few coolers. I kinda dozed off a little but snapped to attention when the truck came to a lurching stop. In a field. I think I've been there before, but you know, I've been everywhere. Everyone unloaded the back. I just happened to be throwing logs at people. Nicely handing them to Lucas is what I meant. When a circle of thick logs was set up, and a blazing fire in the middle, the twins opened up the coolers. That's when everything went bad.

Not that there were severed heads in there or anything. It was only beer. But how did they get it?

You wonder? I have no clue so don't ask me.

They distributed bottles, me taking one happily, thankful for anything that might make my headache go away. Jack and Annie were a bit wary at first, but after a few sips they gave in.

The effects of alcohol on me are different. My mind doesn't get clouded, or slowed down. Not like it use to. After a while my body becomes almost immune from the effects, like a built in survival mechanism. Kind of how anesthetics no longer work on me. Extremely high doses worked when I was 16, but now, nothing can knock me out except something like a kick or bullet to the head, but only for so long.

So as always, the alcohol should have clouded my mind, but it didn't, so I was strangely sober next to all my drunk friends. Jack didn't drink as much as the rest of them. I forced myself to drink at least half, or a little more than that, of his beer that they keep handing him. So after you do the math, he probably drank and had only about three bottles in his system. I on the other hand, had drank around nine bottles including his, before I ran to a nearby bush and puked up my guts. I returned to my spot and continued drinking off of jack's bottle. Everyone was laughing. They were well past the legal limit, and there were at least ten more bottles left. So I did what I had to do. I drank it all, or most of it, but dumped half into the bush when they weren't looking.

Lyrica suggested that all of us in our drunkenness, should participate in some game. All my drunk friends agreed. I had no idea what they were thinking, but apparently they weren't. Within five minutes they were all playing duck duck goose. I was so confused, as they stumbled around the fire. This was going to end badly, and I was quite sure they didn't want burns. I looked over at my friends, Lucas looking the most sober of them all, but not by much. It was up to me to be responsible. Next to me, Jack was about to stand to run around the blazing pit of orange. I knew this was going to come back to bite me later, but I shoved him back into the bush. Everyone else completely lost it. "What're you doing! Your ruining the fun!" They all yelled in their half laughing voices. I stood up on a log and yelled at them. "Guys! It's probably time we got back!"

They looked at me funny. Lyrica whispered something to Lucas, and Lucas got up and barreled towards me. He pinned my arms above me and pressed me to the cold metal, a rabid, almost insane look in his eyes. I struggled, but it wasn't doing much. Dang that guy is strong. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Jack was picking himself out of the bush, and saw Lucas. He ran at him. I thought boys were above this, but anyway, Jack tackled him like a pro football star, a crazed look in his eyes. Lucas's feet were planted solidly, and he didn't move, but he kicked Jack to the side like an abandoned toy. He turned back to me. "I'm sorry about this." I said right before I struck him. I could've hit him hard with my head, but that would've bashed in his head, and I don't want to kill the guy. So I spit in his face, and while he was stunned, wrenched my leg out from under him, and kicked. He howled in pain, grabbing at his lower leg. He got up, leaning against the truck, and swung at my head. I grabbed his fist, and used his momentum against him, exactly like I taught him weeks ago. He was flat on his back but came stumbling up. Then I punched him in the jaw for good measures, and he collapsed in the dirt, some blood trickling out of his mouth and nose. He'll be fine. This time. No one shoves my boyfriend.