The Brooke

Arrival

Our adorable Arianna! 

Enjoy reading and leave a lot of comments XD 

"SO DO I HAVE to pretend to be like you or something?"

This was probably my thousandth question since the past two weeks.

I still couldn't believe this was actually happening.

But the chaos and buzz lingering from last few days were definitely a prove to it.

Aunt Maggie and I have bonded a lot over these two weeks. I think that it could have been like this from the start, had we both confronted each other about our insecurities.

Or maybe it was just that now I was finally leaving for my own good, that she felt less burdened and so was able to talk to me more freely.

With Maggie's and Arianna's help, I had packed all my winter clothes, shopped for more since I was going to Alaska, and other necessities.

Now I was sitting with my two overstuffed suitcases, waiting for the last hour to pass by so that I could quickly get into the cab that would lead me to the airport and finally get the hell out of here.

"For the billionth time Rose, you don't have to. Now before you get antsy again let me tell you the two reasons behind this. One, which I'm repeating this, like, for the zillionth time, no one knows me there to be suspicious of our personality difference and two, you can't afford to even pretend to be like me."

She smirked.

I opened my mouth and feigned a hurt expression. "You bitch!"

Arianna laughed. "You slut!"

And so our usual game began. "You whore!"

"You Cunt"

"Dick licker" I tried to offend her but she merely laughed again.

"Cock sucker" she threw back.

"Ass fucker"

"Shit eater"

"Nose picker"

"Fart Smeller!"

"Eww!" I cried with disgust. "That was horrible. Who does that?"

She shrugged. "It's true. It's actually a job."

"A job to what? Smell farts? Give me a break!"

"Apparently if you Google the ten worst jobs in the world. You'll find it in top five. In Japan, those who are doing some sort of food research visit restaurants where people as subject are made to eat specific food items and then those poor researches have to stand behind them and smell their farts to distinguish between what food's fart smells like what."

I looked at her in shock as I attempted to shook the horrible image forming in my mind of what she just told me.

I have always been good at creative things such as stories and art because of my vivid imagination.

When someone told me something I was rapidly able to imagine it happening.

Unfortunately, moments like these made me regret of my powerful imagination.

"I think I need to throw up." I told her weakly.

She rolled her eyes.

"Quit being so over-reactive. This is the best day of your life. I forbid you to puke on this historically significant date."

I giggled as she tried to mimic her sentence in a manly royal voice.

A knock on my bedroom's door alerted both of us.