For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and for these two, their lives have been planned down to a science.
For Wylan Olson, being yourself can be very stressful. Since she was young, her emotions have always been backwards. The e...
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"Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, you smell like a monkey, and you look like one too!" Ty sang loudly in my ear. Her lisp was interfering with her enunciation, so she spat the words.
It was endearing that she cared enough to say happy birthday, but I wondered if it was necessary at six in the morning.
"Good morning, Tyra."
She smiled, clasping her hands in front of her. "Wyla is a big girl today!" She danced around in front of my bed screaming at the top of her lungs.
I decided then that I would never have children, so that God-awful sound would never invade my ears again.
"Wylan Olson, you have three point five seconds to get your butt out of that bed and in the bathroom before I drag you out!"
We literally lived about fifteen minutes away from my high school, and I didn't actually have to be in class until eight o'clock.
Nonetheless, I complied with my mother's wishes.
I dragged myself into the bathroom, brushing my teeth thoroughly as I stared in the mirror. Bright lilac rubber bands smiled back at me. They were gradually becoming a part of my image.
I'm sixteen today. "Just wait until I reach thirty. If Waylin lets me live that long," I said as I looked in the glass mirror. My phone vibrated on the sink counter.
Just another text message from Farah, "Happy birthday, Wy, we party tonight!" it read. I sighed, yeah we would party, then I would die.
I ignored the message and finished my morning routine.
As I hopped down the stairs, my mother interrupted me. "Wy, you're really wearing that?" she asked incredulously.
I looked down at my attire. A graphic tee and some jeans paired with combat boots made up my choice of clothing for school. I didn't really see the problem. She smacked her forehead with her palm and sighed loudly.
My mother was a drama queen in her own right. I guess pageant practices die-hard.
"Darling you are turning sixteen, dress like it."
I looked her in the eyes to see if she was serious, and she was. She legitimately wanted me to go and change clothes...so I did.
I marched up to my room, packed my normal clothes in my bag and slipped on an A line dress, keeping on my boots. I fished around for a pair of pearls and a big pink bow. "Dress as if you are turning sixteen" translated into "dress like you are six."
I skipped down the stairs smiling as my bag bounced on my shoulder.
"Better?" She was standing at the bottom of the stairs holding out a pair of sparkly flats.
"Everything but the boots, Wylan," she smiled happily at me, and I sighed. She wasn't letting me off with this one. She also handed me a pair of earrings.
