Between the Lines✔ [COMPLETED]

[23] Permission Granted

Olivia

It's obvious that Aunt Naomi and my cousins, Rachel and Denise, have arrived at my house. Aunt Naomi, in her usual bubbly, loud voice, greets my mother and father downstairs –and I can hear every single word she's saying. 

I don't need to picture what Rachel's wearing –it's probably something way too extravagant for a trip to her cousin's house, not that that's ever bothered her. Denise is probably hanging onto her mother's leg –not literally- begging for a snack or something. I slam the cover of my math book down over the equation I didn't finish. I roll my eyes.

"Olivia!" My mom calls.

"I'm coming!" I yell back, dragging myself off of my bed to chip my way out of my room and down the stairs.

"Look who's here," mom says, smiling. 

Aunt Naomi smiles brightly at me and lets out a coarse laugh. "Olive, baby," she says, embracing me, "How are you, darling?"

"I'm great," I say, "How are you?"

"Surviving, conquering, God give me strength," she says, letting go of me to step backwards. "Rachel," she says, glancing behind her, "Denise, say hi to your cousin, you both haven't seen her in so long."

"Hey Olive," Rachel greets me, smacking on bubblegum. 

I almost want to gag at the outfit –she's wearing a jig-saw puzzle patterned knee length skirt that's literally all black and white, and a long sleeved black lace top over a black vest.

Is she simply staying over at my house or is she planning to sneak out into a night club?

Wow. 

And it's cold outside –snowing, actually. 

Denise is choking down on a giant pack of corn curls –Go figures.

I smile at them, though I don't want to. These two girls will be staying in my room for the next two weeks. I'm not looking forward to it. 

Aunt Naomi and my parents disappear into the kitchen while Rachel and Denise pull their bags up the stairs and into my room.

"Did you even bother to clean your room?" Rachel asks.

"Not really, I'm way too caught up in finishing schoolwork," I tell her.

There is literally nothing wrong with my room. My room is perfectly neat. There is nothing on the floor –except for a few pages of unfinished drafts of literature essays that didn't make it into the bin when I tired of writing and frustrated. 

"I can see that," she says, throwing the pages into the bin for me. "So we're sharing the bed?"

"You two can have it. I don't have a problem sleeping on the couch," I say. 

"Oh, nooo," she dreads, and I know she's being sarcastic. "Olive, no way. We can't do that to you."

"Psh, it's no problem, Rach. Both of you can fit on the bed. I can sleep on the couch comfortably," I say. That's exactly what she wants to hear.

"If you insist," she says, raising her brows and sighing.

Denise has already sat herself on my bed and messed up the sheets with corn curls. I'm so disgusted, honestly.

"Denise," I say.

"Yes?" her big blue eyes stare up at me in wonder. 

"How much of that have you already eaten?"