GREEN, imogen elizabeth

[IMOGEN ELIZABETH GREEN]

IMOGEN GREEN

full name imogen elizabeth green
nicknames izzy, gen, genny, nerd-a-saurus
type original
gender female
age eighteen
birthday august 24th
group neutrals
clique nerds
grade senior
sexuality heterosexual
occupation works part time as an assistant in a local art gallery
face claim clemence poesy
alias sioban

persona
smart, sassy, sarcastic, loyal, observant, artistic, passionate, sanctimonious, hot headed, stubborn, secretive, dogmatic, witty, funny, disarming

life

Typical boy meets girl scenario.

Well…maybe not. Both Paul and Anne-Marie first met when they were nineteen and actually met on a complete accident. Both had been set up on blind dates by their respective friends. Paul had been set up with a redhead called Annie, a trainee primary school teacher from Chicago and Anne-Marie had been paired with a rather dull man by the name of Martin. Paul had been at the bar for twenty minutes or so, nervously ripping off the label from his bottle of beer as he waited. He had no idea what his date for the evening looked like, the only information he had was that she was supposed to be called Annie. He looked around the bar, feeling more and more anxious and cursing his friend for even talking him into this when he set his eyes on a young blonde girl a few tables away from him, doing the exact same thing as he was.

Swiftly, he put two and two together, just as Annie arrived but he walked right past her, believing that the blonde was the girl he was meeting. Mustering up his courage, Paul gave a charming smile and said hello, the blonde introducing herself as Anne-Marie. He put two and two together, wrongly, thinking that this must have been the Annie he was supposed to be meeting up with that night.

Blonde, pretty and non-threatening, Anne-Marie looked up and couldn't quite believe her luck. Paul was tall and handsome, dark wavy hair and the most beautiful green eyes she'd ever seen. He said his name was Paul and she knew she was meant to be meeting a Martin but with a blush, she soon decided she'd rather get to know this man. The evening was filled with laughs and silly stories, discussing a number of topics from families and jobs to where they'd like to holiday. There was never an awkward silence during their conversation and the night went far too quick for Anne-Marie's liking. Loitering by the door to the bar, they shared a goodbye that lasted several minutes with Paul asking if he could see her again and Anne-Marie saying she'd love to.

Reaching for a beer mat from a nearby table, she carefully pulled the paper apart to write down her name and address before handing it to him. She leant in, going to kiss his cheek but he got the wrong idea, moved his head and kissed her squarely on the mouth. Flustered, she gave a laugh and a blush which he found most endearing before bidding him goodnight, accidentally slipping on her heel and jogging off down the street.

Left reeling by the night's events, Paul went back to his apartment with a huge grin on his face and setting off to find her the very next day. Anne-Marie had given him her address and he headed there to find her room mate who, with a knowing smile, directed him to where she worked in a florist's shop. Heading straight there, he leant in the door way and watched how she worked. She looked so pretty in her little green apron with her long hair tied back and that disarming smile as she served her customers or arranged the lilies. Were they lilies? Oh, who cared?

Waiting patiently until a customer had left, he strolled up to the counter to surprise her. As soon as Anne-Marie smelt his cologne, she knew who it was. Laughing, she asked what he was doing there and with a smile, he simply said he'd come to take her to dinner. She complained that she was a mess but he assured her she looked absolutely gorgeous. Heading to the restaurant, they were kissing over their starters and they didn't even get to the main course because they ended up going back to his apartment.

Six years later, Paul made Anne-Marie breakfast in bed. A perceptive young man, he'd learnt after the second time she'd stayed over, she only ever ate fruit for breakfast. Neatly, he'd cut a slice of pineapple into a little heart and placed a silver engagement ring in the centre. Caught by surprise, Anne-Marie nearly choked on her slice of watermelon as she saw it before exclaiming she would, throwing her arms around his neck as the breakfast went all over the place as she laughed, tackling him to the mattress before they rolled out of it and to the floor.

Born into a comfortably wealthy family in Maryland, Imogen had an equally comfortable life. A quiet but intuitive little girl, her parents were a little worried when she didn't tend to join the other kids when they played jump rope down their street but were impressed when they could see the artistic spark in her even at such a young age. When other children were happily finger-painting in kindergarten, Izzy had already progressed onto much more practised pictures with crayons and pencils.

It wasn't that Izzy couldn't make friends, she just seemed to prefer her own company and this continued into her teens. When her classmates were experimenting with make up and going all goo-goo over boys, she threw herself into her books and effectively, began to shy away. It was okay, though. Books didn't lie like girls did. They were always there, dependable and provided a much needed escape from the snide looks girls the girls her age shot her. She didn't want to bare her navel, did that make her a stick in the mud? Maybe. Besides, she liked her feminine little dresses and much preferred them over denim cut off shorts any day.

In her late teens as her class mates were dating boys, she couldn't help but find the whole ordeal of sex a little...scary. She'd read about it and everything but seeing students macking in the halls, it kind of made her feel even more left out of things. In a last ditch attempt to distract herself from her own short comings, she joined a collection of student lead clubs. Imogen wasn't built for sports, she was built for the sciences. Instead of attempting to join the cheerleading team in an effort to boost her popularity, she forewent the ordeal of making an ass out of herself and causing more people to pick on her. Instead, she joined the chess club, chemistry club and debate teams. It didn't really matter much to her because one day, when all their looks faded, she'd be their boss and enjoy sweet revenge. Imogen never tried to “fit in” and so, just happily fell into the clique known as the Nerds.

Now in her final year of high school, Imogen is looking forward to graduating and pursuing her dream of attending a prestigious university and starting a new life, effectively leaving the torture of high school far behind her.

roleplaying sample


What the Hell was she doing?

Imogen Green was a nice girl. A good girl. She was not the type of girl who went out and partied but lo and behold, that was what she was doing right now. As always, parties were a dime a dozen around Harbor Academy and she supposed it was an occupational hazard of going to school with the offspring of some of the country's wealthiest and well connected people. She hadn't had a good day and it probably showed when she was at school earlier. She couldn't concentrate, she wasn't listening, she was fidgeting, she'd forgotten some of her textbooks. The change in her behaviour must have been obvious because a few of her teachers had asked her if she was feeling well.

No, dear faculty, she was not.

On her way to school that morning, there was a package. It seemed innocuous enough, small, wrapped in plain brown paper, tied in a scarlet red ribbon and hand addressed to Imogen. Confused, she'd stooped to pick it up and opened it in her car. Inside was a bundle of photos, older photos that showed Imogen as the girl she used to be; happy with life. Every shot had her smiling, acting goofily with a tall, handsome boy who used to be her boyfriend. He was called Landon and he was captain of the lacrosse team. They hadn't ended on good terms. Just as Landon was starting to become popular, he realised that Imogen wasn't, she was fading into obscurity and that didn't sit well with him. He wanted to be popular, to party, to excel.

He'd broken up with her by text message. Text message! The spineless twonk. Imogen didn't know why that package was waiting for her. As she rummaged through them, she flipped one over. On the back of the photo there was a message written in Landon's familiar script; Izzy, it read. Do you remember the night this was taken? Why can't we have this again? I miss you. I think we should get back together. Call me, Landon x. Staring at the photo, she felt sick. It showed her kissing him, her hands on his face, his arms around her waist, holding her tight, pulling her towards him passionately. The only reason he was considering dating her again was because of Luke. Since the last party she'd attended, her name was everywhere. People knew who she was now and she didn't like that. Landon must have thought she was now popular enough to be worthy of his affections.

Gunning the engine of her bright red Suzuki Jimny, Imogen angrily drove to the address of the Friday night party. It was some Junior called Marissa, apparently her parents had gone away for the weekend. Throwing the photos into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder before stepping out of the jeep and loudly banging the door shut. The warm ocean breeze ruffled the hem of her peach coloured dress, the heels of her boots clacking on the expensive looking driveway as she strode through the open door. The party was in full swing. The music was loud, people were already drunk, someone had even lost their shirt. With a sigh, she forced her way through a crowded hall towards the kitchen and she wasted no time in grabbing a bottle of beer, opening and then downing most of it.

Before she knew it, she'd finished off another five bottles. Out of the back windows, some boys were stripping off and jumping into the pool. She wanted to do that. Imogen swayed on her heels, the room starting to spin as she tangled a hand in her hair. Swimming. She wanted to go swimming right now.

With another bottle in her hand, she wanted to forget. Forget about her moronic ex-boyfriend, forget about her classes, her homework, her parents and just have fun. Squeezing her way outside, she blinked three times as the cool night air made her reel ever so slightly. She took shaky, ill timed steps as she skirted around the edge of the pool, swaying on her feet as she sat down on one of the sun loungers. Or so she hoped. In fact, she had misjudged the distance, bumped her bum on the seat and slipped backwards, landing with a bump on the cold floor. It struck her funny and so, she howled with laughter, totally and utterly drunk. "Oh! My beer!" Imogen gasped, her alcohol soaked brain slow as she tried to grab for it as it rolled away, her long bare legs hanging over the lounder haphazardly. Her bag had fallen and the photos had fallen out, scattered around her head like a halo as she lolled on the floor. Giggling, she hiccupped. "Now it's a party. Ow."