Young Writers Society

*switching to past tense, since that's what the majority of you are using*

Jude - Tuesday

"Hey, Jazz!" I called, seeing the girl walking away, farther up the hall. She froze, her shoulders stiffening as she turned back to face me with a forced smile, which would've fooled me had I not seen the same smile plastered on my brother's face nearly every day of our lives. It was the, I'm upset with you but you're not going to know it smile, and I wilted slightly under her gaze.

"Hey Jude," she said lightly.

A pregnant pause stretched between us. I rubbed the back of my neck absently, chewing on my lower lip. She stood there, looking expectant, her eyes flickering back towards the stairs every few seconds.

"Uh, look," I fumbled, holding my hands out placatingly. "If you're upset about earlier-"

"I'm not upset," she insisted with an overly cheerful smile.

"...right. Well, if this is about earlier, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it seem like, well, like dating you would be awful. You're a very pretty girl, and you seem nice. I guess I just didn't know how you would take Daniel's words and I kind of panicked. I'm sorry."

I looked down, shuffling my feet on the carpet and continuing to rub my neck. Way to go, Jude, I silently grumbled. Only the second day and you're already making an awkward fool of yourself.

Jazz - Tuesday

I smiled, a real one this time. He thought I was pretty. Not that I didn't, it just wasn't a common compliment. And something about the way Jude seemed to read my mind had me tongue tied.

"Thanks," I said after a moment of word searching. "It's cool."

I looked down at my feet, then looked up, meeting his eyes and hoping he was assured.

"Could I make it up to you?" he smiled back at me, gave me a gentle nudge toward the stairs, and started walking me back to my room. "Like, coffee this Saturday?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I shook my head. He held the door open for me. "Really, we're fine, I promise."

"No, it's not that I have to. I want to," he insisted. "I feel bad for upsetting you."

"Well, if it'll make you feel better, then sure," I agreed as we stopped outside my door.

"Great. Want to meet in the lobby around, say, 9 am?"

"Sure," I smiled. "I've gotta get around for class now though, so I'll see you around."

I gave Jude a little wave and slipped into my room.


Abby - Tuesday

"Bye mom!" I shouted through the house as I scrambled down the stairs, guitar strapped to my back. Today, I would find out which music program I had been put in. I was already sure the audition had gone as well as it could have - not to toot my own horn, but it was, most definitely, performance worthy.

"Bye honey, have a good day," my mom smiled at me from the kitchen doorway. She waited there, watching as I tied my bright red chucks, slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and ran out the front door.

Faustina Wakolski

"yes," I uickly agreed, took the cup from his hand and drank it only to spit it out and burned my tongue in the process. Great, what did I agreed on this time.

"Take it easy. You alright?"

Aside from burning my tongue and spilling coffee on the bottom right corner of my page, It was good. I knew that I would not avoid interaction but at least its only him. I don't mind if its one person. He looked alright. I am always good inhibiting my feelings since that will only make me astray. I always wanted to have a neutral mood every day. His accent was not american, which is pleasing, but somehow european.

"Are you european...your accent..."

"Yep, Norway but I travelled around europe, africa, and the around the states."

"Polish," I quickly replied as I sat up, and took my pads and about to walked out. I need some palce to work alone but I notice that there were some tarts on the table. I better stay and eat it. He did made the effort to give me some breakfast.

"Faustina," I introduced myself as i took hold of a tart.

"You can call me Daniel, unless you want me to call me by my first name?"

"Which is...?"

"Fridjtof"

"I think i'll call you frid. The name Daniel is too common anyway." I became uneasy as I slowly shifted to my thoughts at the same time trying to adapt to someone next to me.

Artie- Tuesday
I hummed along with 'I'm Going Slightly Mad.' by my favorite band of the moment Queen. I walked into the lounge and smiled a greeting to everyone instead of actually saying it. I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of toast and put some jam on it humming happily. I walked into the lounge and sat down crossing my legs cheerful. "So anyway does anyone know who my roommate is I'm room 204." I asked curiously.

Daniel "Frid"

"Yes," The girl agreed, taking the cup from me, only to do what Americans call a...spit take?.

"Take it easy. You alright?" I asked, trying to soothe her so she wouldn't choke.

Her eyes brightened a tad at the sound of my voice, and she asked, "Are you european...your accent..."

"Yep, Norway, but I travelled around europe, africa, and around the states."

"Polish," She quickly responded, sitting up and collecting her things, ready to leave, but the sight of the...PopTarts?...stopped her.

"Faustina," She said, picking up one of the chocolate filled and encrusted PopTart.

"You can call me Daniel, unless you want me to call me by my first name." I said, adding the last part only because she was a foreigner herself and probably would say it right and with ease.

"Which is...?"

"Fridjtof."

After a moment of thinking, she said, "I think i'll call you Frid. The name Daniel is too common anyway."

Faustina seemed a little awkward sitting beside me, and I couldn't help but wonder why. Just then, a girl came in and started to talk about her unknown room mate. Had she not met her yesterday, or even when they were sleeping in the same room last night?

Shaking my head, I replied, "No, I haven't. If you go check the board they may still have it up most likely."

Sugar:

Tracy Chapman's song Fast Car woke me up from a peaceful night's sleep. After I had painted Ren's last night and added a little design on a few of her nails I looked through a book of famous art for a while and fell asleep with it in my lap and Liberache playing through my iPod.

Opening my eyes, I saw a shape that must've been Ren in her bed, still asleep. When I looked to the clock I figured it was high time for the two of us to get something to eat really quick. After a quick five minute shower, I changed into a pair of black tights, pristine white shorts, an off the shoulder black shirt and one of my hats. After I dressed, I shook Ren awake.

"Ren, hon, time to wake up and get ready. I'll be in the kitchen getting us some breakfast ready, 'kay?"

She mumbled something in response and I turned and left the room.

When I made it down to the kitchen, I found some hot water already made for tea and some milk on the stove, I whipped up a cup of Earl Gray tea. Seeing no point in wasting the milk here by getting cold milk I poured it into the cup, as well as a spoon full of sugar.

Finding some sandwhich bread, I popped it into the toaster and scrounged up some butter and cinnamon. When the toast popped up Ren entered the room. I quickly buttered it and sprinkled on some of the cinnamon sugar.

Handing her two of the four pieces of toast, I explained, "I wasn't sure if you drank tea of coffee or what?"

Monroe

The next morning I woke up, utterly repulsed by the day I had been forced to live through. Orientation? Nothing I couldn't handle. Classes? Aced it. Cello? Well it would have been great, had my cello, Roberto, not been stolen. Yes, I realize my cello is named. But I walked into the instrument storage room and it wasn't there. I had checked on the glossy black cello before I had started classes and warmed up with scales, but it was gone.

So I got back and collapsed on my bed, barely even saying a goodnight to Jazz.

So the next morning I got up and did my morning stuff. I follow Jazz out the door, and to my great dispair, I didn't go down to the small cafeteria. So much for standing up to my anorexia. I threw my huge, artistically designed tote-bag over my shoulder, and headed to the lounge of the building. There was already three people there; two girls and one boy. The boy looked like a freakin' model and the girl sitting next to him probably was one. I felt inferior to them with my hair in a messy ponytail and my body adorned in my usual; black skinny jeans, a purple shirt, and my scarf.

"What's up?," I asked, even though every part of my on edge body screamed to interrogate them for the whereabouts of my cello. I launched myself onto the puffiest chair I could see, in the most awkward way possible. It was my little way of rewarding myself.

I loved making kids think I had a mental problem, bacause I didn't give a damn. The girl sitting next to the boy gave me an irritating look that made me immediately want to punch her. The boy gave me an odd look.

"You don't need to look at me like I'm a special needs kid," I said to the boy.

"You're from Norway.'' And with that I left the room.

Meredith (Ren)

After grudgingly getting myself out of bed, I found that there were already plenty of people making breakfast. Taking a bite out of a piece of cinnamon toast Sugar gave me, I officially decided she deserved some "best roommate ever" award. Better than sharing a room with triplet ten-year-olds? Oh, yes.

"I wasn't sure if you drank tea of coffee or what?" she said.

"It's okay, I'm going to get some orange juice," I assured her, grabbing some from the fridge. After a glass that I rinsed and returned to the dish washer, I grabbed my guitar and walked to a pretty unobtrusive corner where I could strum out the chorus of "Walking on Sunshine," which my mom had always played on the radio in the morning.

I looked up as a girl shouted something defensively, only in time to see her walk out of the room. The boy and girl nearby gave each other equally weirded-out looks and shrugged. I grabbed a pen from my pocket, using my hand as a notepad.

Note to self: Standing out here? Not a problem.
Being shy? That's one.
Today's Mission: Sing in vocal class.

Hazel

"204?" I eyed the girl who had just walked in.

"Yeah. Are you my roomie?" she said with a sparkle in her visage. Way too perky, that one. I gulped the rest of my coffee before answering.

"No, I'm with..." I still needed to know my own roommate's name. I pointed to her and said, "That one, in 203. Are you the one who left the towel on the toilet last night?"

"What?"

"Our rooms share a bathroom," I explained. Of everything I had been told about the rooming here, that was one of the few things that had stuck. "I went to use the loo last night and there was a wet towel on top of the toilet seat. It almost didn't end well." I started pouring myself another cup of coffee, enjoying the look of mild horror forming on her face.

Jazz - Tuesday - Class

I scamper down the stairs, messenger bag slung over my shoulder, weighed down with a tin of prismacolors, some paints, and multiple pencils. Three sketchpads of alternating sizes were tucked under my arm.

As I cut through the lounge, I see that most of the other students are still sitting around, talking and getting to know each other.

"Hey guys, you'd better hurry up, class starts in 15 minutes," I call out, hoping they can all hear me. A few look over at me, I smile and wave, then head out the door.

The campus is nice - not too big, and not overly immersed in the city that surrounds it. Sidewalks connect the few buildings of the campus, but I walk through the grass. It's a shorter walk, and the grass is lovely anyway. Were I not on a time schedule, I'd lay down in it and take it in.

But there's no time now. I pull out my schedule and double check. Seven classes total, each an hour long, three before lunch and three after. Morning classes are art classes, while afternoon classes are core requirements.

Figure Drawing[Art] . . . . . . . . . .Room A12 . . . . .8:00 to 8:50
Painting[Art] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Room A3 . . . . . .9:00 to 9:50
Art History I [Art/History] . . . . .Room A7 . . . . .10:00 to 10:50

Lunch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11:00 to 11:30

Algebra II [Math] . . . . . . . . . .Room 114 . . . . .11:40 to 12:30
Chemistry 1 [Science]. . . . . . .Room 209 . . . . .12:40 to 1:30
AP English [Eng]. . . . . . . . . . .Room 107 . . . . .1:40 to 2:30
Government [His]. . . . . . . . . . .Room 102 . . . . .2:40 to 3:30

It's exciting for me, knowing I'm going to start my day drawing people. Looking up at the campus clock, I rush off to class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby

As I reach campus, I pull out my schedule to double check everything.

Choir III [Mus] . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Room M9 . . . . .8:00 to 8:50
Instrumental I.S. [Mus] . . . . . . .Room M17 . . . . . .9:00 to 9:50
Music History[Mus/History] . . . . .Room M4 . . . . .10:00 to 10:50

Lunch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11:00 to 11:30

Geometry [Math] . . . . . . . . . .Room 114 . . . . .11:40 to 12:30
Chemistry I [Science]. . . . . . .Room 209 . . . . .12:40 to 1:30
AP English [Eng]. . . . . . . . . . .Room 107 . . . . .1:40 to 2:30
U.S. History [His]. . . . . . . . . .Room 112 . . . . .2:40 to 3:30

I spin around hurriedly, trying to find the music building. Finally I see it, a large treble cleft statue in front of the door. I pause, taking a deep breath. Then, tightening the grip on my guitar, I hurry toward the door as I see other students emerging from the dorm rooms.

As I enter the building, I see a dark haired girl, wearing a scarf, running frantically toward one of the instrument storage rooms. I hear her shuffle around, then groan loudly.

"Are you okay?" I ask, stopping in the doorway.



**IMPORTANT NOTES: These are a general idea of schedules. You don't actually have to post your schedules, unless you want to. (It might not be a bad idea to post in the discussion forum, so we can keep track of who is in a class together). Most students will be in the same core requirement classes, and same group of specified classes depending on their talent.

Also, Instrumental I.S. is an independent study for musicians - it allows students who play an instrument, or multiple instruments, to practice on their own or with others. There may be many students in the class, but they may all be doing different things at the same time.

If you have any questions, feel free to PM me. **

Hazel

Figure Drawing [Art] . . . . . . . . . .Room A12 . . . . .8:00 to 8:50
AP 2D Design [Digital Art] . . . . . . .Room A11 . . . . . .9:00 to 9:50
Art History I [Art/History] . . . . . . . .Room A7 . . . . .10:00 to 10:50

Lunch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11:00 to 11:30

Algebra II [Math] . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Room 114 . . . . .11:40 to 12:30
Chemistry 1 [Science]. . . . . . . . . .Room 209 . . . . .12:40 to 1:30
British Literature [Eng]. . . . . . . . .Room 107 . . . . .1:40 to 2:30
U.S. History [His]. . . . . . . . . .Room 112 . . . . .2:40 to 3:30

I shoved the paper into my already bursting pocket and sighed for the forty-seventh time that morning, give or take. Yesterday hadn’t gone as well as one would hope, and I’d only had a cup and a half of coffee this morning. Coffee. My coffee brain was whirling with all the things I had planned to do that day: redo the sketches I had found, learn my roommate’s name, find someone who wasn’t your typical art freak, do better in class than yesterday…

There were still a good five minutes to eight when I found room A12 and sat down. Better than twiddling my thumbs, I pulled out the sketches from my pocket and a fresh sheet of paper out of my book bag to get started, hoping no one would notice since I couldn’t explain them.

Meredith (Ren)

I put down my guitar and glumly got over the inevitable. It was time to get to the one class I despised - voice. If I couldn't talk, how could I seriously sing?

There wasn't time to worry about that, or, well anything I guess, because it was time to buck up and stand out. It was beginner's voice, so there were plenty of people in my class that couldn't sing. Plenty who could, but who knew, maybe I wouldn't be the worst. Better than being the mute.

I walked to M3, where Mrs. Barry was writing something on the white board while a couple kids had already taken their seats. A few like me were holding their guitars and another girl was sitting at the keyboard, playing notes that were muted to her headphone so I couldn't hear what she played. They all gave me a quick look, which was more or less completely uncomfortable, but they didn't seem too interested, and I took my seat in the back. Unfortunately, my invisibility cloak lost all abilities in this class. "Hey, Whisper," Mrs. Barry said with a spunky smile, already having decided my class nickname. She was a younger teacher with short-cut red hair and a face of dark red freckles to match. She seemed cool, even though I hated her class. "You going to sing today?" she asked.

I sighed. "I...guess?"