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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"Wylan, I swear if you don't get out of the car!"
I sat there contemplating what would happen. I was smiling fearfully at my mother as she screamed from the window, which I figured she would soon break if I didn't listen.
I had a lot of off time, and, during said time, I chose to synchronize the car with my phone. Oddly enough, it was like that commercial where the woman was traveling to some obscure place and she forgot to lock her car. Then you see her press a button and it locks.
Well, at that moment, I was the woman, only I was not five thousand feet in the air, though I was about five seconds away from my final destination. "Mom, please hear me out." I pleaded.
She paused for a moment, attempting to calm herself. "Wylan Sinead Olson, if you do not extradite yourself from that car in two seconds!" you'll probably go to jail for first-degree murder.
I sighed, unlocking the door and climbing into the back seat to make a show of avoiding her. "Please don't make me go. I don't like makeup," I pleaded, brushing my t-shirt off, and looking everywhere but down at mother. She was short, so yes, I had to look down to see my mother.
"I don't like your outfit. You don't like my makeup, so suck it up," she boomed, rolling her eyes as we walked into the store.
Soon enough I was in a chair, on the verge of crying because of the mascara making my eyes water, but I sat quietly until she was done. I eyed my mother warily as she gushed about how beautiful I looked, and talked to the makeup artist about my sixteenth birthday.
Apparently, they knew each other. The woman had a thick accent that I couldn't quite pin, and was tall and slim with a cocoa tint to her. She had long appendages and a friendly smile as she spoke to me, and I resolutely nodded and said "Yes ma'am," and "No ma'am," to her plethora of questions.
Once my mother finished speaking, we travelled home and got ready to go out. My dad wanted to treat the family because two of the four Olson's had a birthday that day. I didn't want to dress up.
Unsurprisingly my mother coerced me into complying with her will. One sparkling A-line dress, a whole lot of hot combing, and a handful of barely audible whimpers later, I was ready to go out, at least by Waylin's standards.
Hours later, we all piled up in my father's truck and took off. My parents conversed, and Ty sat in the back reading something on her Kindle.
"Wy, you look pretty," Tyra murmured, looking up at me. Her baby doll face and large eyes made her look adorable. She seemed to be glowing then.
"Thanks Ty, you're cute too," I cooed while pinching her cheek, making her giggle and scoot closer to me.
"What are you doing?" she leaned over my arm and tried looking at my phone screen before I tapped her nose with it, and sent it to lock screen.
