52
We're awake before the sun comes up on a Saturday thanks to Angela's anxiety. She woke all of us because she wants everything to be perfect. She thinks we need to prepare for President Swan's arrival, and nobody's happy with her right now.
A bleary-eyed, bed-head sporting Alice is particularly pissed off. "This isn't fair," she whines pathetically from her perch on the side of the tub. "It's Spring Break."
Bella doesn't sleep, and I'm used to waking up early for work, but my youngest lives for any excuse to sleep in. Angela woke her up first because she knew Alice was going to give her a hard time, and we've been hearing about it ever since.
By the time I crawled out of bed, Angela had already ransacked my closet and laid out what she deemed an appropriate outfit. I've been informed that I'll be showering in their shared bathroom while they transform mine into a makeshift salon because it's bigger.
"I'm tired," Alice cries when Bella tries to come at her with a hairbrush.
"Stop being such a baby." Angela huffs impatiently. She's been trying to curl her hair and keeps swatting Bella's hands away when she offers to help.
If her whole body wasn't a shaky mess from the nerves, she'd probably have better luck achieving her goal, but it is so she isn't. Poor girl.
Not wanting to get sucked into any of the drama, I reach around all the girly shit cluttering my counter and gather my toiletries.
"Good luck with these two," I tell Bella and hold up my body wash. "I'm going to take a shower."
She rolls her eyes and turns to Angela with a patient smile. "What if we recreated the braids I did for your first date, Rabbit? You liked that, and it was very elegant. Wasn't it, Ali?"
Alice just cradles her head in her hands and mutters about being exhausted, and Angela nods.
"Okay. But make sure to make the braids tight because by the end of the night I had a bunch of flyaways," she pleads.
"Rabbit." Bella sighs. "You're putting way too much into this visit. My parents are regular people, and they won't care if your hair isn't impeccable."
Knowing it's a lost cause, I hightail it out of there while Angela tells her about how important first impressions are, especially when it involves the President of the freaking United States. Her words, not mine.
By the time I'm ready for the day, the girls are downstairs, and Bella is cooking breakfast. Alice has her head buried in her arms on the table, already dressed. She's nodding off while Angela organizes her notecards she prepared when she got home last night.