Her name is Elizabeth a.k.a. Liz. Is 17 years old in
High School. Loves to wear black and is "one of
the guys". Has dark brown hair and eyes, lips are
average, and height average. Very skinny because doesn't
eat like a normal person. About 90-100 pounds. Smokes
weed, and etc. and drinks. Has a messed-up and hates
everything in her life. Father had an affair, Mother
tried to kill herself, and Brother who is 14 is a nymphomanic.
Attempts to kill herself but never has the true guts
to do it. Everyone at school stares at her and calls
her names. Loves to flick people off and loves to talk
back. Into different kinds of religion like Witchcraft,
and etc. Loves dark depressing music. Loves action movies.
Acts like herself around her "kinda" friends
and some guys ended up liking her but she doesn't.
Kylie Chan/Age 13
I can ramble for hours. It's a gift. And my favorite
thing to ramble about? Me. I'm a falsified brunette/redhead
who's deathly afraid of the possiblity that I could
be blonde. You know, if I died my hair that way. Which
I won't. And my eyes are contact-covered boring brown.
I have an older sister, Kelsey, who's one of those people
I get the strong urge to strangle for being too perfect
and occasionally annoying. I have a mom and a part-time
dad, who travels Monday-Friday to Santa Barbara to make
me money so I can buy books and feed my raging intellect.
I play the piano, about as well as can be expected when
you aren't a child progidy. I formerly took karate,
got bored, but I can still kick your ass from here to
someplace interesting, so be nice.
He is an unexperienced (in life, love, friendship,
and the natural order of all things) and insecure freshman.
He has a tendency to rate people and changes with each
person. With some, he becomes practically their slave
and will do whatever to please them. With others, he's
himself. And with some he considers lower, he treats
them with no respect. With all that aside, he has little
confidence and seeks it through treating others in various
ways. He's extremely selfish and focused on himself.
He's manipulative and has the ability to keep himself
in the attention spotlight. He has short black hair
that he normally puts blue hair gel in and has chocolate
eyes with spots of hazel in them. He's extremely skinny
but strong and is roughly 5 feet 8 inches.
Damon Brooks/Age 15
He stood there, alone, in the desolate hall of the high
school. He ran his fingers through his gel-spiked light
brown hair with his backpack only hanging on one shoulder.
he waved to me and smiled, baring his white glossy teeth,
without the braces he'd worn for the past 2 years. Mmmmm,
he is gorgeous! Tall, muscular, grassy green eyes, mysterious
eyebrows, and the farthest thing from a poker face you'd
ever see. He was grinning from monkey ear to monkey
ear, and as he walked towards me, his khakis made a
'swishing' sound and his Vans scuffed up the floor.
Towering over me at 5'10", he leaned down and kissed
my forehead. He smelled of aftershave, and that was
a good thing. His navy blue polo shirt maked him look
years beyond his age of only 15.
Specks of scattered snowflakes break through the dark.
It falls above rooftops and lawns decorated for the
holidays. Houses trimmed with Christmas lights sparkle
below. The snow and wind seem to intentionally blow
toward one house at the edge of a dead end street, on
the top of a hill where grass does not grow. This house,
surrounded by scaffolding from a long abandoned renovation,
was at one time a church. Shelves in the basement give
evidence of former Sunday School rooms where the names
of teachers are fading from black marker into the grey
shadows of a purpose no longer served.
In this house lives a girl named Ryan.
She is your age.
She is your height.
She is your weight.
She is your life.
Her eyes are her own.
And inside them are prisms of secret colors and patterns
with a point of view unrevealed but waiting.
Rachel Crain/Age 27
So dad's gone, mom's out of her mind, and all Jean cares
about is clothes. I'm fine. I don't care. Whatever.
If I had a motto for life, that's what it would be,
whatever. I could say it to mom's drunken face after
she had used up every attempt to try to make me feel
like our family's destruction was my fault. Whatever.
I could say it to the kids at school when they laugh
at how I was wearing the same pair of pants for the
third day in a row. Whatever. I could say it to dad
when he calls on the phone, begging for forgiveness.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm different. Why don't I care
about clothes. Why don't I have a boyfriend? Why don't
I go to school dances? Then another voice comes in.
"Whatever," it says.
Jennifer Jorgensen/Age 13
She's the girl everyone loves. Jocks want to devirginize
her, preppy girls adore her, and usually stern teachers
smile broadly when she enters their classrooms every
fall. What they don't know is that she's a fake: a con
artist. Inside she's playing each and every one of them
to her advantage. She fine tunes her athletic skills
and tones her body to be physically desired. She dresses
quite well, not overly done, so girls enjoy her original
style. She works hard to earn the respect of teachers
and geeks. She's confident, clearly dedicated to her
cause, and insistent upon winning her game; life.
Carrie Shay/Age 21
She walks down the hall, her stiletto sandal heels clicking
against the school's linoleum floor. She is not tall,
but her shoes elevate her so that she is virtually half
a foot taller than the other girls. Her dresses are
the same, day after day, short and tight, fringed with
ratty lace-but she wears her black leather jacket over
them for modesty at school, or is it to hide the track
marks embedded on her veins? Her face is pale, thinner
than it used to be, with blood vessels illuminated beneath
the sensitive, translucent skin around her eyes, or
is it just another hangover? They are dark like black
fire, matching her short-cropped hair. She wears very
little makeup, yet she is the Aphrodite of every boy
Beth Harrington/Age 16
A man walks by and smiles and my heart flip flops and
then shakily pops back into rhythm. He is the most beautiful
man I have ever seen. He drops a folder near my feet
and when he picks it up he looks at me. I am caught
in those blue-green eyes that are the color of my favorite
faded jeans with flecks of grass mixed in. He is a head
taller than me and his body is lean but muscular beneath
his khakis and blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled
up. His brown hair is tousled, but not tangled, not
too short, but not too long, so it brushes the tips
of his eyelashes. His square jaw becomes soft when he
smiles, the corners of his mouth plunging up to meet
Julie Clanton/Age 25
This character is 13 years old and depressed. He hides
it well. He also seems to have a lack of identity. He
fits in with so many of his peers but somehow doesn't
want to or won't allow himself to be social. This makes
him believe that he is intellectually better that his
peers and at the same time he is intimidated by them.
Two years pass and he isn't so depressed but his identity
crisis is still with him. Should anyone know about his
past suicide attemps?
Bill Patros/Age 15
Sometimes after school, once he's drowned out all of
the name-calling voices, Tim sits on the edge of his
bed and stares into space. With every blink of each
eye, his anger level rises. He doesn't know why he feels
this way, but he does know how to make it go away. In
Tim's closet, under the adolescent security blanket
given to him by his now dead best friend, glows the
old gun his father swore he lost. Everyday he grips
the handle with the ease of a mother to her child, and
fills the barrel up with the same six life stealers.
he clenches his eyes shut and holds his breath as he
places the gun in his mouth, only silence could break
his concentration now.
Terry McClendon Jr./Age 18