Brett
The Old Lady House was louder than the Football House next door, which should have been impossible.
I heard Big John before I even made it through the front door. His voice carried down the hallway as he argued with someone about whether defensive linemen needed more calories than hockey players. Judging by the offended response that followed, Marco had apparently made himself at home in our kitchen again. None of it surprised me. Once Olivia started cooking, the invisible boundary between houses disappeared. Football players wandered over from next door, hockey players showed up from across campus, and somehow everyone acted as if Olivia had personally invited them, even when she absolutely had not.
I pushed the door open with my shoulder and stepped inside, nearly tripping over
