The Greene Effect - REWRITE!!

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR - MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS

Amelia Greene -

Once upon a time, Aiello said that we were moving at such an impressive rate, we could be home by Christmas.

It's beyond obvious now that was wishful thinking. The holiday landed on top of us quicker than any of us anticipated. Seasonal depressions have always been a killer, but this feels like a year's worth of emotions suddenly dumping onto us.

Six weeks without Turner. How is that possible? None of us are in the Christmas spirit, but we try our best to make it enjoyable, for the sake of each other.

My eyes focus on the fire in front of us, one of the only sources of light in this night. On the opposite side sits Aiello, so I do whatever I can to avoid eye contact. His eyes flicker to me now and then, but we pretend I don't notice.

I think of the last full conversation I had with Perez, in the days leading up to the move out here. Him promising to try and come around for Christmas, so close to experiencing the real first snow of his life. My heart aches, but the cold prevents it from throbbing too harshly.

He had no idea he wouldn't be here. But I guess no one does. I probably look blue at this point; either I'm frozen over or the sadness is that obvious.

Daniels is trying the hardest to keep our spirits up. He's doing what Turner would've, or so he believes, knowing it's the only way to keep his memory alive out here. Prove that his leadership affects us still.

But I don't want him to become the next Turner; there isn't another Turner. He's the type of man that can't be replicated, even with the best of intentions.

I shudder and shift, my body needs to move now and then to maintain correct blood flow. Next to me, Stiles glances in concern. I shake my head as if to say I was fine, but really, the fire wasn't doing much to help. We're close enough that the heat almost burns but it's the least of our concerns.

"You've been worrying us, Greene," Zussman says, looking over the fire to me. "This colds eating you up."

"I'm just smaller than you guys. I'll be okay." He nods, though his eyes aren't convinced. I blink off a snowflake that falls into my eyes, sniffing through my red nose.

Each of them are holding bottles. I denied one, not wanting to drink, but I can tell they need it after the hard month we've had.

"Merry Christmas, Turner," Daniels says, holding his bottle up to the flames.

"Oh, and Turner," Aiello quickly adds on, less emotion in his voice. "Pierson made Farmboy an over here a Corporal. Wonder what you'd think of that." The hints of envy in his words make me cringe.

Zussman's eyes intensity in fierceness as he goes to defends his close friend. "Probably that you're the same old sack of shit, Aiello."

Sensing the growing tension, Daniels interjects. "This ain't the time." The two quiet, and he raises his bottle again. "To Turner."

"To Turner," we all chime in, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyelids growing heavier.

"To Turner!" The voice instantly wakes me up, and the boys tense like a deer under headlights. I look behind Daniels to see a stumbling Pierson, brewing trouble under his unstable footsteps. He holds his bottle; I shut my eyes in frustration.

"Lucky son of a bitch," he chuckles, slurring the slightest bit. We glance at one another, standing on thin ice. Pierson's eyes grow hard, but distant still. "You were always first."