Chris was downstairs most of te night too. It started off small, but towards the end of the night basicly half of our high school had shown up to the party. Me and Carrie were just sipping on a bottle of captain morgan upstairs watching netflix and Chris would hang with us for a little but he spent most of the night downstairs with his brother and the rest or the party. by the end of the night me and Carrie had downed most of the bottle of captain morgan by ourselves, needless to say, we were fucked up. I had started drinking when I was 12, so I could handle my liquor a little better then Carrie, she had only drank a few other times before tonight, so she was completely out of it. at about 2am we could hear the party downstairs starting to die down, by then most of the people had left, it was just Mike and his group of friends from the football team. We could hear them bitching about how none of them got to score with this sjutty girl Jessica Torez, she was a junior but she slept. Or he was dead. Assume twelve. That means three rounds left. I’ve got to make it to the dumpster. He took a deep breath. The Package was at his feet. That’s what he called him: The Package. No point getting personal. They wouldn’t know each other for long. He might even be dead soon. Who knew? No point being on a first name basis with a corpse. ‘Get the fuck up,’ he said. ‘We have to make it to the dumpster. Can you make it?’ The Package was breathing heavily. He was out of condition. He nodded. ‘I….think….so,’ he said between gasps. Fat fuck. Why can’t they send me to get someone fit for once? Even just healthy. Someone who could at least run more than ten meters without throwing up. ‘Well don’t think so, know so,’ he said. ‘When I say ‘three’ we bolt for the dumpster. And….’ ‘….and what?’ asked The Package. ‘Don’t expect me to fucking carry you. If it comes down to you or me, it’s me. Do you fucking understand?’ The Package nodded, his face red with exertion. The rain kept coming.
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