(no subject)
After a few days in that crash room, I am more than ready to get out. Like, I don't know where those guys came from and I don't know these people and it just feels incredibly awkward to be sharing with strangers. And I can't ask Eduardo to sleep on his desk again just because I'm not cut out for the whole dorm experience yet. I thought I'd get another year before I had to do that.
With her arms full of what meager supplies she's managed to gather in the last few days, Olive makes the trek across the island, this time in sturdier shoes than she arrived in. High heels are definitely out of the question here, at least at the height she's been wearing the last week or so. She's bundled up books and some clothes in an over-sized towel, bag slung over her shoulder, and there's something nervewracking about it all. It's the prospect of moving, of leaving for a new place to live. She's never had to do that before and definitely not on her own. She wants to think of all this as temporary, but it seems far too real when she's so far from home.
Arriving at what she's pretty sure is the hut in question, she walks up to the door and knocks, then makes a face at herself. "Why am I knocking?" she mutters, shaking her head as she pushes the door open. It's her house. It's just going to take a while for her to get used to the idea of that. Wandering inside, she shuts the door and sighs, looking around at the place - which, by the looks of it, has been through a privatized hurricane at some point, just her luck - until she comes to the bedroom, where she's ready to set her things down and start putting them away. Instead she drops them. "Oh my god," she exclaims, already bending to gather her belongings while trying not to look at the boy. "Who are you? What are - what do you think you're doing?"
With her arms full of what meager supplies she's managed to gather in the last few days, Olive makes the trek across the island, this time in sturdier shoes than she arrived in. High heels are definitely out of the question here, at least at the height she's been wearing the last week or so. She's bundled up books and some clothes in an over-sized towel, bag slung over her shoulder, and there's something nervewracking about it all. It's the prospect of moving, of leaving for a new place to live. She's never had to do that before and definitely not on her own. She wants to think of all this as temporary, but it seems far too real when she's so far from home.
Arriving at what she's pretty sure is the hut in question, she walks up to the door and knocks, then makes a face at herself. "Why am I knocking?" she mutters, shaking her head as she pushes the door open. It's her house. It's just going to take a while for her to get used to the idea of that. Wandering inside, she shuts the door and sighs, looking around at the place - which, by the looks of it, has been through a privatized hurricane at some point, just her luck - until she comes to the bedroom, where she's ready to set her things down and start putting them away. Instead she drops them. "Oh my god," she exclaims, already bending to gather her belongings while trying not to look at the boy. "Who are you? What are - what do you think you're doing?"