After the dinner, it was time for the actual conference part.

And truthfully, its my favorite part.

All the old men go into this big room, while teenagers go to the kitchens.

I'm not sure what for though, Carrie and I never made it down there in time to see.

So, as Abner walks into the room, I begin to walk away, making my way down to the kitchens. I slip off my heels and run through the museum I know so well in my bare feet.

I'm about to break into a run, when somebody grabs my arm. I whirl around.

"Indy!" I hiss. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not a professor, sweetheart, and daddy dearest told me to look after you." He replies with a cocky smile.

"Leave me alone." I snap, wrenching my arm from his and walking away.

"Why can't I come along?" He asks, keeping astride with me.

I turn, facing him and staring him down.

"You have to promise you'll let me handle whatever happens." I say, not fully explaining myself.

"Why, where are you going?"

"Promise." I command with a steely gaze.

"Fine." He grumbles. "But if your well being comes into question, I WILL interfere."

I give a smile and turn, walking to the kitchen. When he doesn't follow, I take his callused hand inside of mine and pull him with me.

We enter the kitchens about five minutes later, and I can not be more excited to be in such a common place room.

The kitchen is filled with at least twenty teenagers, some I know from school and others from various parties. They're all seated around a single table, where Brandon Marlo and another boy are arm wrestling. Both idiots are grunting in an effort to beat one another, and I can't help but laugh out loud when the unknown boy lets out a girly shriek of pain.

I let go of Indy's hand and walk up to Brielle Martins (the girl who likes my eyes) and ask, "Whats going on?"

"The basic idiocy of good looking men." She tells me, giggling as she spots Indiana next to me.

I watch in amusement as Brandon Marlo nearly crushes the boy's poor hand and wins, standing up for a victory whoop. I applaud unenthusiastically, blowing a strand of hair out of my face.

Brandon Marlo spots me and waves me over, and I can practically feel the evil plot forming in his head as he takes my appearance in.

"Ravenwood, you clean up pretty well." He says loudly, making the room go quiet and directing all attention to us two. (Brandon and I). I don't like it though, seeing as there are A LOT of guys in this room.

"Too bad I can't say the same for you." I say sympathetically, giving him an innocent smile.

He sets his feet on the table, leaning back in his chair.

"Ah, be a good sport, Ravenwood." He says, giving me a Sapphire colored wink. "What have you got against me?"

"What all other women my age should have against you." I answer. "You're arrogant, self-centered, uglier than my Aunt Fannie's ass and stupid."

A chorus of 'oooooh's' echoes through the room. I cross my arms defensively over my chest, keeping his eyes away from it.

"And you're incredibly attractive." He replies.

I feel Indy tense behind me as Marlo says that, and I'm sure he's getting prepared to beat his ass again.

"Go to hell, Marlo!" I shout.

"Why should I?" He asks playfully, as if he's got me right where he wants me. "You can't make me."

"You're a wussy, Marlo." I sneer. "You can't fight like a real man. I bet you can't even drink liquor like a real man."

"And you can?" He asks with an incredibly annoying smile, but I see that my comments hit home.

"You know it." I whisper through gritted teeth. It takes all of my mental strength to keep from punching him.

"Alright then. If I win, I take you on a date. If you win, I leave you alone and am forever shamed."

I consider these stakes. I know that losing for me is not an option, because that would mean becoming his first class whore. If I win, however, I will be a HERO and he will leave me the hell alone.

"Alright then." I agree, nodding grimly.

The kitchen erupts into cheers as the group of teenagers crowd around the table even more. Some guy sets down ten shot glasses on each side of the table and fills them all.

I begin to walk over to my seat, but Indy grabs my arm.

"Are you insane?!" He practically yells in my face. "A drinking contest? You're seventeen!"

"You promised not to interfere." I warn gently, knowing he's just looking out for me.

I find I like it.

"You're going to regret drinking this much." He says, putting his hands up in the air as if to ward me off.

"And you would know because you, the college scholar, have had a drinking binge before." I tease, nudging him in the ribs as I take my seat.

"Just...stop when you feel nauseous." He advises, and I can't help but believe he HAS done this before.

"Rules," Brandon begins, "You must turn your shot glass upside down on this line"(he gestured to a chalk line down the center of the table) "And when you don't for the first time, you lose."

"What are we waiting for, then?" I ask.

"And...go!" The ref says.

Brandon reaches forward and grabs his first shot glass and drinks it in three small mouthfuls. He shudders.

Ha, piece of cake.

I reach forward and grab MY first shot glass.

I down it in one gulp.

Everyone gasps as I do this, and I can't help but grin. The burn of the liquor is numbing, and I like it.

"What is this, scotch?" I ask the ref conversationally.

"Um...vodka." He answers bewildered, checking the bottle.

I look over at Brandon and laugh out loud at his surprised expression.

"Ready to continue?" I ask, not believing how easy this is.

We're on the fifth shot glass now.

I am holding up WAY better than I thought I would.

But still, I can feel the alcohol take affect as I down my fifth glass in a mouthful. I blink slowly, my eyes watering and my throat scalding as I set the glass down.

Brandon takes his sixth glass and drinks it slowly, giving me a lazy wink.

I look behind me and smile at Indy, "It's not that hard, now."

But I see his stricken face and am aware that the worst is about to come.

Fifteenth shot glass.

I've had worse.

I think.

Why does Brandon Marlo have a twin?

I reach forward and shakily grab my glass. The girls are going insane over me, placing bets of an enormous size that I will win.

It's a lot to live up to.

I raise the glass to my lips and down it, experiencing another wave of numbing that I really want to succumb to.

I lean forward and rest my hand on my hand, still holding my shot glass and closing my eyes. I just want to sleep. That's all I want.

I hear groans of loss and hear the rustle of money above my head.

I need to wake up.

I try to think of why I did this in the first place.

Top impress someone?

But who?

Indiana Jones.

I sit up straight like a rapier and shout, "Stop!"

Everyone freezes. My eyes are alight with a fire I haven't possessed since the twelfth shot glass.

"Stop." I say again quietly, staring at all the faces around me.

Slowly, I hold my hand out, turning the glass upside down and set it down on the line with a snap of my hand.

The girls in the crowd cheer and cheer and cheer and several hands slap me on the back. I grin to myself and watch Brandon Marlo grasp his shot glass after several failed attempts.

He raises it to his lips with another smirk at me, as if I'm all his, and downs the glass.

Seconds later he falls out of the chair and onto the floor, passed out. His glass never made it to the line.

Screams and applause explode throughout the kitchens and money is exchanged.

"And don't try to challenge me again, you bastard!" I shout, much to the delight of my female fans.

Eventually, the room begins to clear out as they carry Brandon away.

I just sit there, looking thoughtfully at the last full shot glass.

Who'd have known that a ARCHAEOLOGIST'S DAUGHTER would have such a strong tolerance for alcohol?

Yes, I am aware that this short was accidentally OVER 1000 words (it was 1,499 to be exact!), but I just couldn't cut any of this. Review please!

By the way, you may find that I used some of Marion's blocking from her opening scene on Raiders in the pub. Yes, that was on purpose. Not an accident.

REVIEW!!