***Made a few changes to Olga's story***

***A quick note: I've changed the tense for this chapter. I originally intended to write in first person present, but ended up writing in the past tense out of habit I guess. Anyway, if everyone likes this, I will edit the other two chapter to match. ***

I open my eyes slowly. Light has managed to find its way through the cracks of my blinds. Sunbeams dance around on the floor of my dark bedroom. I yawn lazily, glancing at my clock, which reads 12:30 pm.

I let my head fall back against my pillow and close my eyes. I could just lay here for another few hours. Today, like every day, I have no obligations, no plans. Over sleeping had become a routine for me these past few weeks. I gave up my efforts to write Arnold a letter, and I would guess this finally killed my insomnia. I would be seeing him in a week; there was no reason to reach out now.

I should be anxious about his homecoming, nervous that things between us may be over for good. Instead I choose to remain blissfully detached from these possibilities. Like I said, he won't be home for another week. This gives me ample time to plan out our reconciliation in my head. I should know by now that my plans never pan out as expected, but still I daydream about what I'll say, what he'll say and everything that follows. I blush at the thought.

Deep down the logical part of me is screaming, warning me that idealizing our complicated relationship into an epic love story is dangerous, especially for someone of my emotional instability. I just cannot bring myself to admit to the possibility that our relationship is over and has been over since before summer vacation even started. Arnold may not have explicitly broke things off, but was not his lack of writing a sign? Maybe he wanted to be a safe distance away before dumping me, and his lack of communication meant just that.

No, somehow I am able to push away all my worries and allow myself to dream. In my mind it always plays out like a beautiful Hollywood drama: He arrives home, a worn and weary traveler. I am wistfully looking out my window when I finally see him again. Our eyes immediately find each other. He dashes into my house and up the stairs. I look over in perfect timing to see him standing in my door way. We walk towards each other, exclaiming our apologies, finally acknowledging everything that had been weighing on our hearts all summer. And then we realize we don't need to say anything at all. He pulls me close and dips me in a perfect back bend before kissing me passionately. What happens after that makes me cheeks grow hot.

My eyes fly open and this time I do not intend shut them. I have already played that scene in my head a dozen times ,and it was getting slightly repetitive. It's now 12:45; I might as well get up.

I make my way out of my bedroom and before I'm able to make to shut the bathroom door, a slim hand catches it..

"Good afternoon, sleepy head!"

The obnoxiously cheerful voice of my older sister fills my ears.

"You missed breakfast again!" she says, her golden green eyes sparkle, trying to catch mine.

Olga continues but I don't register anything she is saying. I avert her eyes and settle for staring at her perfectly manicured nails. Delicate flowers of pink and blue lay against a sheer, pearly base. The tiniest rhinestones make up the centers. I had never noticed all the detail before and couldn't see why someone would care to spend that much time on something so easily overlooked. I glance down at my grubby feet. Unlike Miss Perfect the the dark red polish on my toes had all but worn away. Gross.

I consider wrenching the door shut. Scuffing those perfect nails would have been immensely satisfying, but alas it is too early for me to be that spiteful. I walk away, hoping she'll get the hint. The normal person would give me privacy but not Olga. She is lost in another one-sided, self-concerned conversation. She rattles on about how she'll be leaving in a few weeks, moving into an apartment with her wonderful boyfriend Mark. Things were getting serious now, ugh. And while she's so excited, she's sad to leave Dad, Mom and of course me. Ever since the summer break has been nearing its close, she's been on me like a hawk.

Olga's smiling gaze finally catches mine in the mirror. I splash cold water on my face. There's more I envy than just her outward perfection. Olga's studying at Columbia now, if you were wondering why she's living with us again. She's pursuing her masters in linguistics, and Mom and Dad couldn't be more proud. Apparently her short stint teaching Inuit children in Alaska really spoke to the admissions counsel at Columbia because upon acceptance the Dean himself invited her to a private party at his residence. Oh, and on top of that, she has a full ride. I hate her.

In a bid to avoid Olga's latest onslaught of sisterly bonding, I've been spending most of my time out of the house. I am often alone, either reading in the park, perusing local record shops, or most often swimming at the community pool. It is not often I find something I love, but when I do I jump in head first. Swimming had become a new obsession of mine. It was a way for me to escape everything without actually going anywhere. When I was swimming, no one could bother me. No one could gawk at my lanky arms or straight figure like when I used to play ball with the old crew.

"So Baby Sister, if you don't have any plans for today-"

"Actually I'm meeting up with Pheebs in twenty," I cut in, my first spoken words of the conversation.

Olga's face drops slightly, and I brush past her. Most girls my age would love having an older sister as nice and cool as Olga, but I'm not most girls. I don't want to go shopping or share her wardrobe. I don't do girly slumber parties, staying up all night gossiping about boys, watching romantic comedies and painting each others' nails. Those are her interests and not mine, but still whenever she decides to spend time with me, it's always something of her liking. My interests are never considered.

In my closet I find a simple pink dress. It's too hot today to bother with jeans. I pull off my night gown and slip into the dress.

"So what are you and Phoebe doing?"

I flinch. Either Olga has no concept of a personal bubble, or she has vastly misinterpreted our closeness.

"Uh—dunno," I mumble.

Truth be told I do plan on calling Phoebe, but to say we have plans is a stretch. She had just arrived home the other day from her summer internship in Baltimore. It was some bio-medical program for high schoolers at Joe Hopkins or whatever. I never bothered to have her explain exactly what the program entailed. Anything science related goes straight over my head.

I chuckle to myself. Phoebe and I couldn't be more different. She is the pristine textbook, focused and logic based, while I am the worn diary, bursting with artistic expression that borderlines a psychiatric disorder. I'm sure people find it odd to see a reserved girl like Phoebe hanging around a loose canon like myself, but we've been best friends since Pre-K . It's one constant in my life I can count on.

"Gonna to the pool after," I add, grabbing my black one piece.

Olga eyes my swimsuit disapprovingly. Yes, it's pretty worn and sags a bit in the back, but I like I shove it into my bag and away from Olga's prying eyes.

I kick at a sweatshirt on my closet floor to reveal a pair of white Converse. I plop myself onto the ground in a very unladylike like manner. If I had been in public I would've flashed everyone. I yank my dress down to cover myself and proceed to pull on my shoes. I should wear socks, but my dresser is too far away to bother.

I groan at my laziness.

Olga reappears in my doorway. I hadn't even noticed she'd left, but now she's clearly holding something that she hadn't before.

"Helga, why don't you borrow one of my old swimsuits?"

Olga holds it up, almost in slow motion. Horror music erupts in my head as I catch sight of it, a hideously girly bikini. Bright pink ditsy flowers are scattered across the sunny yellow fabric. And it has ruffles, everywhere. I jerk back as if it's going to jump and attack me.

"This was my absolute fave when I was your age, Helga."

I can't take my eyes off it. It's so awful.

"That's alright," I manage to finally say.

Olga looks disappointed and, dare I say, surprised? With my eyes locked on the suit, I fumble around behind me for my bag. I grab it, sling it over my shoulder and zip past Olga. Of course she trails me downstairs. Hunger pangs attack my gut and I woefully acknowledge that I can't escape Olga just yet.

Reaching the kitchen, I toss my bag onto the island so I can freely raid the fridge. Another side effect of my oversleeping is that I always wake up starving.

I unscrew the OJ cap and take a long chug. With my other hand I sort through all the strange "Olga" food. I stuff a few gluten free crackers into my mouth. They taste like expensive cardboard. So distracted I am searching for real food, I don't notice Olga reaching into my bag and trading my black swimsuit for her yellow one.

"Well, have a great day, Baby Sister!" Olga says with a wink, before prancing out of the room.

"Mhmm.." I mutter with my mouth full of blueberries.

I take one last drink of OJ before shutting the fridge. I grab a banana from the fruit basket and toss it absent-mindlessly into my bag. Glancing at the clock, I see it's already half past one. I through my bag over my shoulder and make a beeline for front door. Just as I reach for the doorknob, the phone rings. I freeze.

It rings again. I slowly walk over to the hallway table as it rings again. I'm about to pick up the receiver when I hear Olga in the next room.

"Hellooo?" Olga answers "Hi! How are you?"

I scoff. Of course the call was for Olga. It always is.

I turn away from the table and finally head out. I wrench the door open.

"Ok, hold on a second, dear-Helga!" Olga calls, but I'm already out the door.

"Helga! Arnold's on the phone!"