(Aaron's PoV)

    "Aaron, guess what day it is," Connor sing-songed.

    I tried rolling my eyes while leaving them closed, but all I could do was groan. It was a slow, drudging shift to the ground, and as soon as my feet were planted, Connor promptly kicked me in the shin.

    "You've always been the festive type," I commented.

    Connor gave me a look of mock offense. "I am celebrating a globally renowned holiday. November 20th: National Kick a Ginger Day."

    He kicked me again and I shoved him back through my laughter.

    Sean's eyes fluttered open. "What's going on? Why are you guys fighting?"

    "Aaron's fighting," Connor corrected him. "I am simply observing an important holiday tradition."

    Sean furrowed his eyebrows and began to count on his fingers. "But Thanksgiving's not 'til next week."

    "Oh, no, no, Sean." Connor cut him off. "This is more important than a murderous colonization celebrated with food. Today is National Kick a Ginger Day."

    Sean tilted his head to the side. "I've never heard of that."

    Connor feigned a gasp. "Well then I guess it's time for a history lesson," he decided as the two of us sat on either side of Sean.

    "A long time ago, in the ancient times of 2008," Connor began with a dramatic flair. "The cartoon, South Park, aired an episode exposing gingers for what they truly are: evil and disgusting. This made some gingers angry--like Coppercab and Aaron Minschkin."

    I gave an involuntary scoff. "Oh god, those fucking tools. I even have to share a first name with--"

    Connor kicked me again. "Aaron, I am trying to tell a story," he fake chided. "So anyway, since their fiery tempers were extra heated, they started acting even more annoying than usual. As a response, a Facebook page in Canada--that's right Canada! Gingers are so unappealing that even Canada hates them--started National Kick a Ginger Day. It was an instant success."

    "Although that one Minschkin kid was interviewed on several news stations as a 'tragic victim of prejudice and violence'," I cut in. "I mean I didn't watch it on the actual news since what kid watches the news, but I've seen YouTube videos on it." My eyes nearly rolled out of my head. "This reporter lady faked sympathy as that nerdy kid whined about the "racism" he faces, while showing his numerous (nonexistent) bruises. I mean how can anyone wonder why we're stereotyped as over-reactive when people like him exist--"

    Connor placed his hand over my mouth. "And so, this glorious idea spread to America and now every year we celebrate by beating up these awful creatures." I wrapped my arm around his neck to break free from his grasp.

    Sean gave me a puzzled expression and Connor and I fell to the ground. "And you don't mind?"

    "Nah," I shrugged, getting up. "It's no big deal."

    "But you've never actually gotten hurt?"

    "Yeah," I replied. Although there was that time freshman year where the varsity team ganged up on me after JV's practice, but it's not like I signed up for football expecting not to ever take a beating.

    "Yeah, don't worry Sean. Aaron's cool, so it's all fun and games," Connor assured him.

"And plus everyone knows Connor isn't strong enough to actually hurt me," I teased.

    And with that, the two of us started play fighting just as we'd done every year.

(Matteo's PoV)

    I folded my arms so tight I could feel my circulation cutting off. "Do you hear what he's saying?"

    "Who?" Will asked. "Connor?"

    "Yeah," I responded through gritted teeth. "'Evil and disgusting.' 'Now every year we celebrate by beating up these awful creatures,'' I mimicked, slamming my fist on my bedpost. "I hate National Kick a Ginger Day."

    Will paused in confusion. "Wait--that's an actual thing?"

    "Yep," I replied, still scowling.

    Will sensed my anger. "Well," he began, hesitating on his words. "I mean, Connor and Aaron like to play fight often. But it's totally different with Emmy. She's a little girl. You don't think anyone would actually hurt her?"

    "They do," I muttered, thinking of her parents, even though they didn't need a "holiday" to do so. "And Emmy doesn't care at all. She tells me they're only trying to be funny." She also tells me her brain tells her she deserves it. "But it's not."

    "No, of course not," Will replied. He bit his lip, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

    Connor was attacking Aaron again.

    I clenched my fists. "I hate him so much."

    "Well, they are friends," Will pointed out.

    "That's not friendship," I retorted.

    And then to make matters worse, Sgt. Blake had to come in yelling at us. "At Attention!"

    Will poked himself in the eye snapping to a salute.

    "Attention, Now!"

    We reluctantly formed a line across the room.

    "There were more guerrilla sightings last night," he began. "So half of you are going to come with me and search for them. The rest will stay here with Lt. Schultz and guard the base."

    "Oh, dibs on being in Lt. Jason's group," Gavin called.

    Sgt. Blake raised an eyebrow. "You didn't honestly think that I was going to let you pick your groups?" His response elicited a collective groan. "No, Gavin, you're with me," he responded. "Along with Will, Jean-Paul, Ned, Tristan, Marcus, Isaac, Sean, Clayton, Logan, and Felix."

"Ah, fuck me," Clayton muttered.

"Nobody wants to," Trevor laughed, retreating to the other side of the room.

Will turned to me and shrugged. "Hey, at least you're not in Sgt. Blake's group."

I heard Connor's voice from Lt. Jason's side. "Yes! We're not separated. We can keep celebrating all day long."

At this point I would have sooner chosen Sgt. Blake.

(Connor's PoV)

    We definitely got the easier job. Lt. Jason didn't really care what we were doing as long as we were doing it behind the barricade.

    "What do you think the other guys are doing?" I asked Aaron.

    "Probably actual work," he guessed.

    I nodded. "Although I think he put Alan in our group thinking he might keep us in line."

    "Whether or not that was the case, it's not very effective," Aaron added, glancing at the ground. Alan was chastising Trevor for sitting down and drawing dicks in the dirt.

    "I'm actually safer this way,"  Trevor pointed out. "When I'm sitting down, I'm completely covered by the barricade."

    "I'm talking about drawing male genitalia," Alan fumed. "It's so irrational and unprofessional."

    "Kinda like putting high schoolers in the army,"  Trevor muttered while continuing his pictures.

    "You're just being immature," Alan told him.

    Trevor pointed to one of his drawings. "This one's yours since it's small. "

    Alan stormed off to report him to Lt. Jason, but upon seeing Trevor's artwork, our semi-commanding officer just laughed.

    "So glad we got in the laid back group," Aaron commented. "Although I feel bad for Sean."

    "Same," I replied. "But now you're stuck with me." I kicked him and he attempted to throw a punch at me.

    An all too familiar, whiny voice spoke out. "You need to stop messing around."

    I sighed. The worst kinds of stick-in-the-muds were the hypocrites.

     Aaron rolled his eyes and stifled a laugh.

    "Matteo, shut up," I scoffed. "When have you ever paid attention in your life?"

    "But it's harder to focus if you're fighting than if you're just talking," he argued.

    "Maybe if you're the one losing," I whispered to Aaron, although I didn't try to be quiet about it.

"I don't even know why Aaron puts up with you," Matteo shot back. "You treat him horribly."

I was gonna make some snarky comment about wondering if he even had friends back home, but Aaron beat me to it with a more heated response.

"Oh my god, can you stop projecting for one moment?" Aaron's frustration was bordering on anger, an emotion I'd rarely seen on him. "Your girlfriend isn't here, and I'm having a great time. This isn't about you."

Before Matteo could reply back, I cut him off. "Quit bitching at us just cuz the only person who can stand being around you was put in the other group."

    "There are guns going off ," he exclaimed, though flustered.

    "There are always guns going off," I mimicked.

    "Yeah, that's why we have the barricade," Aaron added. "Just let us have fun."

    Matteo huffed and went off somewhere to likely sulk. I didn't exactly care where that was as long as it was a decent distance away from us.

    Aaron and I passed the time with non-stop jabs, kicks, and punches. Each hit stung a little at the moment, but were unlikely to bruise the next day.

    "Fight back all you want, ginge," I said, dodging another punch. "You're no match for me."

    "Oh really?" he challenged, holding back laughter. He took another swing, but I got a hold of both of his forearms and kicked him in the shin.

    Aaron's laughter seemed to get caught in his throat as he lost his balance. We both outstretched our hands, unable to grip even a finger on the other. My entire body seemed to collapse as he fell through the barricade.

    "Aaron," I called, my voice nearly breaking. Not even a second after lifting his head, before his surroundings could lose their haze, a bullet pierced his skull.

    I kept waiting for him to move, but he wouldn't. My eyes fixated on the pool of blood around his head.

    I screamed, but I don't know what I said. My thoughts were too loud.

    All my fault. All my fault.

(Landon's PoV)

    I heard a yell and everything else played out like a movie. I didn't see the actual shot, but I saw the blood spill out. Without warning my brain, my hands snatched Connor's gun out of his grip. He didn't notice though. He just kept muttering to himself, squeezing his already welled up eyes.

    "Connor, you didn't fire that gun," I reminded him.

    He choked on his breath mid-reply. "We were just playing around--I didn't...I didn't know this would happen. He wouldn't have fell through if it wasn't for me."

    I could only take my eyes away from Aaron's body for seconds at a time. Everyone was so still it was as if time had stopped.

    It just didn't seem right. He was gone. Just a few seconds could change everything. It wasn't even the first death we experienced here, but this was different. Seth Tyler wanted to die. Sure, that was sad in itself, but we could at least console ourselves with the idea that he got what he wanted.

    Matteo's face flushed red, and a knot developed in my stomach at the thought of him opening his mouth.

    "Do you think Connor's gonna be all right?" Daniel whispered to me.

    "I doubt it," I sighed, nudging him with my second weapon. "Why do you think I took this?"

    He pursed his lips. "Guess so,'" he paused to glance at the rest of the guys. "And to think, half of us don't even know yet."

    The initial numbness began to wear off. I even noticed my own hands shaking as my breathing grew inconsistent.

    Aaron was never coming back. The realization was present in my mind, but I couldn't process it, not even after returning to the base after several hours.