Isolation (Book #1 of the Taylor Series)

Five

"Hello?" I greet, as I answer my phone. 

I remove my shirt from half of my body, put my phone into my other hand, and take off the rest of it. Graham lets out a high-pitched squeal as he notices what I'm doing, and opens up the car door. He makes a run for the entrance door to Peterson's books, screaming the entire way. He can be so dramatic.

It's not like I don't do this every time I drive to work. It's also not like I'm naked underneath, I'm wearing a navy tank top.

"Hey, so mom isn't answering her phone," Violet mutters, clearly out of breath and exhausted, "Are you at work?" She asks. I smile at how adorable she is, knowing that if I say yes she'll apologize profusely and probably call someone else.

"Nope, why do you ask, Vi?" I ask a slight touch of adoration in my voice. She sighs gratefully and lets out a quick cough.

"Debate practice was canceled, and now I need a ride home." She explains, and I narrow my eyes, urging her to continue with my silence, "I was wondering if maybe you'd be able to come pick me up." Her voice fades into a whisper at the end.

"Sure, um," I look around the parking lot, not exactly sure what I'm looking for, "It may take me a few minutes, and you'll probably have to spend the day at work with me," I explain, and I hear nothing but silence on the other side.

"Vi, are you ther--"

"Sorry, Eve, you don't have to," She whispers, "I can try mom again."

I shake my head quickly and let out a quick laugh. "Violet, I promise, it's fine. I'll be there in a few, don't worry about it. I have to hang up though, I'm driving." I lie.

With a quick thank you, we both hang up, and I start walking towards the store to tell Peterson that I'm going to have to return in a few minutes.

I open the door to the shop and see that she is talking to Graham with a frown on her face. "Hey, I'm really sorry, but I have to go pick up my sister from school. I'll be right back." I apologize, and Graham gasps offended.

"Not only does she threaten my innocence with her body, but she also comes to work to tell you that she can't go to work." He crosses his arms and shakes his head with faux anger.

I raise an eyebrow, "Aren't you the one who was ranting about how the female body is overly sexualized and should be looked at normally this morning?" 

He rolls his eyes. I turn to Mrs. Peterson who's nodding her head and shrugs me off. I know that that's her way of giving permission. She just wants me to be back as soon as possible. I practically sprint back to my old, white 2002 Toyota Camry that I bought for nine hundred dollars this summer. 

It was sold really cheap, and now I understand that's because sometimes it'll randomly stop working (not just when Mom makes Dad mess it up), and it can only go so fast. I have to push the gas pedal all the way down just to hold a steady 45 mph.

I suppose it's a good thing that Saint Paul Intermediate School is only half an hour away from the store. Though, it's not a good thing that it's Rush Hour. Ugh.

...

"I talked to Mr. Anthony about extra credit," Violet mumbles once she turns down the radio that only picks up static and the news, "He said that there was no need for me to take it because I'm already excelling in all of my classes."

I narrow my eyes in response and slow down as the traffic light turns from a yellow to a red. I turn to look at her momentarily, but she fiddles with her thumbs anxiously. I turn back to the jam-packed road due to traffic hour and tap my fingers on the peeling steering wheel.