Michael~

My sis wowed the crowd with her guitar-singing duet with Rinna. Teach said that he expected big things from them this year. Please. If he thought that was good, just wait 'till he heard what I can do on the drums by myself.

After everyone was all "Wow, you guys are so good," Teach was like, "Since we seem to have so many different musicians in this class, how about we have a preformance day today? Anyone want to go?"

Corry respiked his hair as I walked down the blue riser towards the drum set, my leg brace clanking with every step. All was silent. I sat down at the drums and began playing a simple drumline, but that clearly wasn't good enough for the crowd, so I launched into a long, complicated drum solo that I had written myself. I closed my eyes and worked my way through the whole thing, knowing that by now the class would be alive and awake. My sister's song, Home by Phillip Phillips (actual song, btw) must've bored the class half to death. I was bringing them back to life.

I reached the conclusion of the solo and brought my drum sticks down on the cymbals, hard. A gasp rose throughout the class. I opened my eyes, half expecting a standing ovation forming, but instead saw everyone staring at me in shock.

I looked down at the cymbals, and, noticing no damage, inspected the drum sticks. Holy cats! They'd snapped clean in half!

I saw my sister quietly smack her hand to her forehead.

"Interesting preformance, Mr. Wilson," Teach said quietly, emphasizing every syllable. "But perhaps you should stick to…" he stared at my Chicago Bulls jersey. "Sports." 

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"Yo, teacher." I say after suggesting the drum machine to Mikeal. "I want to preform. Question is, what kind of speakers do we have around here? Surround sound? Even a good amp would do. I need it hooked up to my laptop."

I then see a cord that obviously connects to the speaker system, and I plug it in.

I had loaded my computor with loops, and I selected a few. It was possibly the best song I had ever made, and I was glad I recorded it, but the audience seemed a little confused. Appearantly, the school shared a tendence for aucustic guitar music, not tecnho or drum solos. 

Ricky~

Listening to Correy (at least, that's what I assumed his name to be) was like listening to. . . well. . . something my father played for me. I rather liked it, and leaned back to enjoy the music. That's when the bell rang. 

"Alright class, we will continue our presentation of talents tomorrow." The teacher told us. "Dismissed." 

Grabbing my backpack, I walked over to the teacher and asked him "excuse me?"

He turned to me. "Yes Ms. Black, was it? Did you need something?"

I nodded. "I was wondering if I could come over after school ended, and just practice my clarinet here. I wouldn't be a bother, I promise! And-"

Mr. Milowski held up his hand to stop me for a minute. "Hold up." Pausing to ponder my "babbling," he said "I'll let you in to practice. But, you must promise to clean up EVERYTHING after you're done." 

"Thank you!" I said as I wandered off into the hall to my next class.  

I was feeling pretty good, until I heard a small timid voice shout "stop, please! You're hurting me!"

I turned around. A little boy about 11 stood in the hallway against the wall, clutching his backpack as if that was the only thing that protected him from the other boy in front of him.

"Oh, look at that. He's scared." The big boy taunted. "What you gonna do, cry for Mommy?" After he spoke, he grabbed the backpack from the boy's arms, and held it over his head, taunting him with the backpack as the little boy made a wild grab for it. 

"Please, give it back!" He cried out. "I need that!"

"Oh, please." The older boy shot back. "The only thing you need THIS for is for protecting yourself."

I gasped as the little boy shrank back, defenseless. I had to do something!

"Hey!" I called out. "Pick on someone your own size."

The big boy turned to look at me. "Quiet girl, this isn't your fight."

I stomped right up to him. He was a little taller than me, by a couple inches. Standing as tall as I could, I told him "it is if I make it mine."

"You want to go?" The big boy said. "Alright pretty girl. Let's take this outside."

I shook my head. "We're fighting here, and NOW."

The boy shrugged. "It's your fight." The fight was pretty quick. I dodged as he jabbed at me with his fist. Grabbing his legs, I tripped him. The boy stood back up quickly.

I motioned for him to try and strike me again. He shook his head in disbelief. "Girl, you're crazy."

"I may be small, but I can pack quite a punch." I told him as he ran at me again, this time with both fists. Unfortunately for him, I was ready. Punching him in the stomach as hard as I could, he doubled over in pain. "Had enough?" I asked him. "Or are you thirsty for more?" 

His eyes flashed at me, as he grimaced in pain, but decided to back away. "I'll get you next time girl." He said over his shoulder. "And this time, I'll inflict some REAL pain."

I nodded. "I'll be ready." Turning to the small boy, I picked up his backpack and handed him it. 

"He won't hurt you anymore." I told the boy. "And if he does, tell him that I'll come back to get him. Now, run along to class, you don't want to be late." 

The small boy nodded in awe, and I watched him run off to class. Picking up my books from the floor, I saw two girls from my band class watching me from around the corner. I grunted.

"I didn't know I had an audience." I grunted.

The girls walked up to me. "Where did you learn to fight that way?" One asked. "I've never seen ANYONE beat up Patrick before."

"Who's Patrick?" I asked.

"Patrick's the school bully." The other girl said. She studied me for a little bit. "You look new here. Do you need some help?"

"Thanks, but I can find my own way." I told her. Holding out my hand, I said "my name's Ricky, but most people call me Rick. What's yours?"

"I'm Mikayla." One of the girls said. "And this is my friend Rinna."

Rinna stuck out her hand to shake. "Hi!" The bell rang.

"Oh no, I'm going to be late!" I exclaimed. "Nice to meet you, both of you, maybe we can see each other again?"

Both girls nodded. "We'll be around." Mikayla said.

I nodded. "Sounds great." Racing to my class, I smiled. Maybe this year would be good after all.  

Rue~

I've noticed, from the years I've been here, that Westwall has many more musicians than it does artists. That's why most of the people I know have homeroom in music class instead of art, like me, and our classroom was strangely empty.

Us being eighth graders, the homeroom teacher for our class knows us all pretty well (she cringed when she saw me, which is what most teachers do, when I can never figure out why), and didn't even bother with the get-to-know-you games or anything of the sort. She simply handed out schedules, gave us all a piece of paper and a pencil, and told us to go wild until first period.

I can't really "go wild" with a pencil and paper. What I really need is paint and canvas, which everyone knows is my specialty, but I can sketch. When the first period bell rings, I'm almost finished with a rose. It's lucky my mother had me in the yard all summer long, or else I would have no idea what a rose would look like.

My next class is something a bit more up my alley: a double period of watercolor art. This is going to be even more empty than homeroom, of course, because that was general art. After that is math,  and all the other usual school subjects. I'm no good at math, unfortunately. It's too restricted.

As I'm walking down the hall, I see a closet which I don't recognize. I've been in this school for two years, which is more than some people can say, and walked this hallway too many times to count, but I've never seen this closet before. I consider being a little late to class so I can check it out, but decide against it; I like watercolor art, and besides, it's better to have a good first impression. The closet can wait. I turn away from it and keep walking down the hall.

No one is in Digi (Digital Arts) except for me. So, can I switch to music with singing? I'll post soon if I can do that.

Smithy-

All I'd wanted to do was study time travel.

I came to this school for their

easily hacked security and the spike in time-vortex change. And free wifi.

I was now surrounded by boys looking for trouble. I was cornered.

I had no choice but to make their phones explode.

I hadn't realized that someone was watching me. 

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Hey Bookworm! Is it to late to join? *grovels at Bookworms feet patheticly* please please let me join!!! If I can, here's the Charrie sheet and intro. I'm bored. If I can't, please ignore my brashness! 

Name: Cleo Hartsworth (Charles' twin sister) 

Age: 12

Appearance: Long, dark brown, wavy hair. Super pale skin, but red cheeks and lips. Medium height, fragile, super thin. Mysterious dark brown eyes. 

Personality: Gentle, sweet, shy, timid, has horrible fear of strangers. A real target for bullies. (Hint hint). But she loves her brother and has great compassion, completely loyal to her close friends, and will listen to anyone who needs her. 

Art/Talent: singing

Friends: ??

Crushes: Guess you'll find out!!!

Name: Charles Hartsworth (Cleos twin brother) 

Age: 12

Appearance: dark brown hair, pale skin, freckles, mischievous dark brown eyes, irresistible smiling lips.

Personality: loves to laugh and has a great sense of humor, but also feels a brotherly protectiveness to Cleo. Will stand up to whatever he sees as wrong, is very physically fit, and is no coward. However, when he gets angry, he loses all his self-control, except he won't hurt his friends on purpose, but maybe by accident. 

Friends: the boys? But not the bully. 

Crushes: hmm…. I'd love for him to have a crush. Anyone? 

Whoops, forgot the intro ! Again, if you don't want me joining, I understand. Just ignore this, then. 

Cleo~

I cried all the way to school. My mom was going to homeschool me this year because of my extreme social anxiety, but changed her mind last minute and decided to send me to school. Charles sits in the back with me, arm around my shoulders. I am grateful to have such a great brother. Most girls detest their brothers.

But we are twins and completely understand each other. Maybe that's why we have never fought. As comforting as he was, though, it still made this incredibly hard for me.

"Here's your medicine, dear. I have notified the teachers about it and they say it will be no problem. All the kids are very nice, I'm sure, darling." My mother soothes me, stroking my tear stained cheek  She hands me a hankerchief and I blow my nose. "Be brave, sweetheart." She regretfully gets in her car and drives away.

(My note: I would be super interested, if I am allowed to join, of course, if Rue and Ray would be interested in being friends with Cleo.)

Charles~

Cleo calms down and goes to her dormitory. I hope she'll be okay. I spot a few boys hanging out. One is pretty separate from the rest; he has dark, spikey hair. I wonder if any of them have joined drums, like I did. Cleo joined singing; I hope she'll get to do a solo. She has an amazing, clear, sweet voice of an angel that captures her audience. She adores Lindsey Stirling's "Shatter Me". But me, oh no. I'm all for drums, electric guitars, and rock roll.

(I am interested  to have Correy/Corry and Michael as his friends… And he might have a teeny tiny crush on Ricky, if that's okay.)