Olive couldn’t help the grin that busted out on her face at the suggestion of the alternate name, “I like it. Though, it kind of makes us sound like rejects from the Band-Aid company fortune. Which,” Olive paused giving that a thought, and then leaned in conspiratorially, “maybe we are?
“Our dad was an idealistic adventurer, couldn’t be tied down to a desk job making decisions about America’s wound wrappings. Our mother, a pragmatic treasure hunter. They met, as destiny would have it, deep in the heart of the jungle. She stole his heart when she swiped the golden donkey statue from the temple of some ancient civilization just before he reached it. He, not wanting to be out done, tracked her around the world and was cut out of the family fortune when he chose her over his familial duties.”
Olive stopped there and considered what she just said, both impressed and maybe somewhat embarrassed. “I’ve either painted myself as a film-watcher shut in, or someone who needs a creative outlet for my overly active imagination.”
She shrugged, and said, “I have a car, let’s find a mall and see what kind of fish we catch?”