Post by SCARLETT BETHANY CUNNINGHAM on Jul 25, 2012 2:29:09 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=algin,center] | [style=width:210px; background-color: #4c4143; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: justify; color: #000000;margin-left: -225px; margin-top: -20px; overflow:auto; height: 300px;]Scarlett twirled the sharp ink pen with her finger, intricately letting it slip through her fingers in patterns and moves that she had perfected throughout her drawing career. The page in front of her, though once white and clear of any obstructions, was now filled to the edges with thin black lines, illustrating the curves of her hair and the shading of her eyes and face. Leaning back in her chair, as if to get a different perspective of her self-portrait, she examined all the details of her own perception of herself, the size of her nose and the way her expression seemed nonchalant, but fierce at the same time in her eyes. Scarlett was never really good at seeing herself, so Scarlett, frustrated with how the portrait turned out, shoved the paper off the table, the paper floated in an entirely ungraceful way onto the floor. Her entire summer had seemed to be dedicated to her art, as she couldn't really seem to figure out her social life lately. At the end of freshman year, she had decided to defy all the preps and began hanging out with the punks, which had turned quite a few girls against her. She hadn't quite solidified any relationships with the punks yet, so Scarlett felt like she was in the middle of them both-- punks and preps, just floating in between, desperately trying to find herself. It was horrifyingly depressing, realizing that she couldn't be her own individual and still have some friends that would stick by her. It was as if becoming a reject banished her to eternal social suicide, which she was not exactly used to, having used to attend all the parties because her sister was a second in command royal. But yet, though the rejects had accepted her from her love of good music and her friendly attitude towards them, she was still labeled the "ex-prep" which meant that she wasn't entirely in the punk group, yet, though she had hung out with a few of them. Scarlett scrolled through her phone contacts, glancing at all the numbers that if she had been a prep, she would've called in a heartbeat, though Scarlett felt that even if she had, she would still feel out of place, feel as if she didn't belong in the manicures and the shopping and all the things that came with being a popular. At the top of her list, she grinned when she saw Aubrey. How could she have forgotten Aubrey? The one that had stood by her through it all, understood how she felt, undermined the popular with her, and despised every being of the royals. They had empathized with each other exactly, being siblings of royals (or ex-royals, in Aubrey's case) and feeling like they had never quite fit in. Her best friend, her soul sister, her other half -- she reached her finger to tap the contact to call the blonde. As the phone dialed, Scarlett mused, the pen rolling back and forth on the table as she pushed it with her hands, that perhaps being social was good for her. Staying cooped up in her room all day wasn't exactly the epitome of the iconic summer -- and she darn was going to get out-- change the world. She waited patiently, tapping the pen now, as she waited for Aubrey's answer. When the phone finally picked up, Scarlett grinned, "Hey Aubrey," she greeted, her voice exuding cheeriness, which was oddly out of character with the normally composed, bored-sounding Scarlett that everyone knew her to be. It was just a good day, she supposed, excusing her behavior by associating it with either the nice weather or just the fact that Aubrey picked up. "Are you free today? Let's do something!" |
He's everything you want
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