Peter~

I slip off my back-pack and fling it across the room to the couch before snatching a granola bar from the kitchen and running right back out the open door. 

"Peter! Where do you think you're going?" Mom yells from upstairs. Oops. Busted. I skid to a stop before I reach the front steps. 

"I'm going to bike to the theater and do some setting up. Catch ya later!" I reply, leaping down the stairs and yanking my bike upright before she can protest. Mom leans out the window, her alluring black curls falling across the sill. She yells something about homework, but I pretend not to hear as I push off and pedal away. Stearing with one hand, I rip the granola bar wrapping open with my teeth and try to stay steady on the sidewalk. Suddenly, I notice our neighbor, Mr. Trent, stepping carefully onto the sidewalk with a cumbersome package in his hands. He looks up and acknowledges me with a surprised/angry: "CAMINSKI!" I swerve around him just in time, but still manage to knock the package out of his hands. Uh-oh, it looks breakable. 

"Sorry Mr. Trent!" I call over my shoulder as I speed away. He yells something back about a helmet. I reach up to feel my bare head, taking both hands off the handlebars for a second. Hey, when your mom's a retired trapeze artist, you should be allowed to take some risks sometimes. Next time, I'll remember a helmet, but for now, I've got to get to the theater. 

~

I eat the rest of the granola bar on the way and shove the trash in my pocket where it crinkles next to my cell phone. When I finally see the foreboding marble collumn holding up the entrance to the once-magnificent theater, I start to squeeze the breaks. Before the bike stops moving, I spring off, and...oops...tumble to the feet of the wide stairway. 

"Oh Flash, do you ever stop moving?" A familiar, mirth-filled voice asks. I straighten up very quickly. 

"Uncle Tom!" My uncle smiles and shakes his head. He flips the key to the Mableton Theater in his hand. 

"Need this?" He questions. 

"Nope, I brought mine—for once." I whip the key out of my pocket to show him. 

"I was checking out some of the hazards you talked about earlier; looks like the old equipment is just finally breaking down," he says, "just be careful." Uncle Tom runs his hand through his grey hair, like I do with my own brown-almost-blonde lion's mane. My uncle is my favorite person ever. Okay, aside from my parents. He's wonderful and knows just what growing boys like me need; brownies and peanuts (extra salty) and comic books. Stuff that my mom doesn't really approve of. He started collecting comic books as a kid (mostly superhero stuff) and just never stopped. He has the most awesome collection EVER! Also, he's letting me use the theater that was given to him by his father. My phone rings from my pocket. 

"See you later, this is probably about the talent show." I pick up the phone and start walking up the steps. Uncle Tom waves goodbye and walks over to his car, which is parked along the side of the building. 

"Hello! This is Peter Caminski!" 

"I'd...like to sign up for the talent show, please?" A voice answers. Yes! I silently celebrate. 

Does anyone care if I write in third person?

~~~~~

Tesha~ 

Sometimes, after a stressful day at school, Tesha would sit up on the roof of her apartment building. It was easy- all you had to do was climb up a stairwell and go through the door that lead outside. She usually brought a few things to do, like her homework, but some days she would just sit and look over the city. And some days, that was enough.

It had been a particularly bad day. First, she spilled coffee- and yes, she drunk coffee- all over her only pair of jeans. When she arrived at school, her locker got stuck, and she had none of the books she needed for class. During lunch some boys had called her a freak. Then, as she was walking out the door, a bully tripped her and she'd almost broken her ankle. Tripping was not something she was accustomed to. Right after she'd started third grade, she decided that her shoelaces would be forever untied. She trained herself not to trip over them. It was one of her small acts of defiance.

By the time she got home, she was angry. This was not common for her, but when it did happen, you'd better watch out. During these times, the other members of her family knew to stay out of her way. She could be as deadly as all three of her sisters combined.

Grabbing the walkman her sister Zahra had gotten her for her tenth birthday, She stormed up the stairs to the roof. Even though she claimed otherwise, she knew her sister had stolen it. It wasn't like her to actually buy things. Unfortunately, stealing was a part of life in her family. More than half of her clothing had been taken out of lost and found bins, which was technically legal. Tesha always felt bad, even though it was the people who lost their item's own fault. "Wait at least three weeks. Then it's yours." Her sisters always said.

Tesha sat on the edge of the roof, kicking her legs back and forth. She wasn't afraid of falling- she'd done this many times before. A sad song with raw, honest words poured out of her walkman, but she wasn't really listening. She noticed clouds on the horizon, and hoped that it wouldn't start to storm- she planned on staying out here for a long time.

After a while, she began to get bored. Realizing that she'd forgotten to take her backpack off before she came up, Tesha checked to see if her notebook was still in it. Yes! It was the first good things that had happened to her that day. Now, she could write. 

She opened up the little yellow notebook to a skit she had been working on, 'Maid Amends'. It was about a businessman who got trapped in the office with his cleaning lady. As she quickly skimmed over the draft, a little slip of paper fell out of the page behind it. 

Oh! Earlier that day, she'd come across a flier for a talent show, and taken one of the slips with the contact number on it. If I could find an actor, I could write a play, She thought. I've been waiting for this opportunity my whole life.

Grabbing her bag and walkman, which still played soft music, she headed downstairs in the hopes that her sisters were home. They weren't, but their stolen phones were- just what she needed. Maybe her luck was changing.

Palms sweating, Tesha dialed the number. "Hello! This is Peter Caminski!" A voice said on the other end of the line. "I'd...like to sign up for the talent show, please?" She replied.

"Great!" Tesha could tell that the boy was excited. "Well, first of all, what is your name?"

"Um, Tesha." He didn't say anything. "Tesha Narang."

"Okay. Age?"

"Twelve."

He paused for a minute, like he was writing something down. "Mmhmm. What would you like to audition for?"

Tesha thought for a moment. "I like to write plays," she finally blurted out.

"I can act, too. But I like writing them better." she continued. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? "Okay, lastly, I need some way to contact you."

Tesha didn't know how to answer that. Her family didn't have a computer or home phone. The only means of communtication they had were cell phones or old fashioned letters. She'd just have to give the boy her sister's phone number and hope he called at a convenient time.

After she gave him the number, he said, "Great, thanks for auditioning. See you there!"

Then, the line went dead, and Tesha was left to wonder if what she had done was a good thing, or just plain stupid.

~~~~~

I will post Toad's tomorrow. Sorry if I messed up anything about her living in an apartment. I figured a suburb-type place would have one, so... Also, I have no idea how to sign up for a talent show! Forgive me for that and any character control.

~Anelia (translated from Polish)

I was scared. No, I was TERRIFIED. You would be, too if you were starting a new school in a country you couldn't speak the language of. 

~~~~~~~

Everything on that first day of American high school went all right. They had a translator for me, and the teachers were kind. But I felt empty inside- I needed a friend.

~~~~~~~

When I was walking down the hallway towards the door, I saw a flyer hanging up. It read, AUDITIONS FOR TALENT SHOW! MABLETON THEATER! I had done some acting back in Poland, and the drama teacher said that I was very good at it. So, I decided to go and see what it was all about. Instead of going straight home to my mean foster parents, I walked to the Mableton Theater.

~Anelia (Translated from Polish)

When I got to the theater,  I saw a boy from school,  cleaning up some of the mess on the theater's floor. " Are you the one organizing the talent show?" I asked. He just stared at me. "In English, please" he said. I sighed, and repeated my message in broken English.  " Yes" said the boy. "I'm Peter Caminski. " Would you like to audition?"  "Yes. I did some acting back in the old country, and the teacher said that I was good at it." I replied. " Excellent" said Peter "I'll keep you posted". Then I left the theater, wondering a few things. When were auditions? Was I good enough to make it in? And what did '"Keep you posted"' even mean? 

~~~~~~~~~

I reached home in less than 10 minutes, because I knew that I had to do many chores. Mr and Mrs. Smith, my foster parents, had me do everything from making dinner to cleaning their five year old daughter, Mary's room. The little brat takes all her toys out and puts them everywhere just to make it harder for me to clean. The Smith family thinks i'm a slave or something. One of these days, I am going to run away. I just haven't figured out how yet.

Toad~ 

If there was one good thing about his brother, it was that he never took it easy on Toad. Steven didn't care about his wheelchair- only that he still had two good arms, which were, if anything, stronger than before the accident. Pushing yourself everywhere is a good way to strengthen arm muscles.

Steven had a very strict schedule. They threw after school every day- well, every day that Steven didn't have practice and Toad didn't have band. Then, it was dinnertime, and homework, and down time. Sometimes, they would play poker or watch TV. His life was pretty normal, for the most part. 

"Boys, dinner!" His dad called. Today, his dad, who cooked for the family, was fixing orange chicken. Steven loved it, but Toad had never been a fan.

Maybe it was because, whenever Steven saw anything orange, Toad was bombarded with jokes about his hair. A traffic cone in the street? His brother would say, "Hey look, it's your long-lost brother." When they went to the pumpkin patch every year, he'd say, "Huh, it's like somebody cloned your head two hundred times and left them sitting here in this field." It got really old, fast. 

So, he was surprised when Steven didn't say anything. Something was up- he could tell by the way his older brother didn't make any jokes about his dad's receeding hairline or his mom's very bright pink shirt, only staying quiet and eating his food in small bites. "What's wrong, man?" He finally asked.

"Nothing." He grunted. Yep, something was definitely wrong. Toad would corner his after dinner and make him spill.

After they finished eating, the brothers stayed in the kitchen to do dishes. His parents sat in the living room, watching some old people show that Steven would be teasing them about on a normal day. He figured this was his chance.

"Steve," he said, his voice softer than before. "What's wrong?"

His brother picked up a plate, not meeting his eyes. "I'm fine, really."

"Steven." 

He sighed. "Can we go on a walk?"

~~~~~

After they finished washing dishes, their parents said they could go out as long as they came back in time to finish homework. Toad only had a math worksheet, and Steven had to finish an essay, so they figured a quick walk couldn't hurt. Plus, Toad needed to find out what was bothering his brother.

They came to the park, and sat down on a painted green bench. Toad sat waiting for him to say something, while Steven searched for the words. He finally lifted his head. "This may come as a shock, but..."

"I have a crush." he blurted. "On the new boy in my class." 

Oh, Toad thought. It was a bit of a shock. No big deal though- Steven was still Steven, no matter who he liked.  "Hey man, it's okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

Steven didn't make eye contact. "How am I gonna tell mom and dad?"

Toad laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think they'll care that much. Besides, I got your back, no matter what happens. You can count on me. I'll be your wingman!"

He laughed a bit. "Okay, now you're pushing it, cheeto puff." Then he smiled. "Thanks, though."

They walked home side-by-side, teasing each other in a friendly way. Out of the corner of his eye, Toad noticed a poster. Steven saw it too, and read aloud. "Sign up for the talent show hosted at Mableton theater. Winners will recieve 2 free ice cream coupons to Caminski's Chills along with a special surprise! Signups begin December 30th. Talk to Peter Caminski or call fak-enu-mber. See you onstage!" He laughed. "You and I could do a show like the Harlem Globe Trotters. I do love ice cream."

"And a special surprise?" Toad grinned. "Sounds nice. But I don't think that'll work."

"Well, then take one of your instruments or whatever and go audition. I want ice cream, Toad!" Steven ordered, breaking into a grin. "Your flute playing doesn't make me cringe, anymore."

Toad stuck out his tongue as they walked through the door, but his mind was spinning. Talent show? He could admit he played the flute pretty well. Maybe he would audition. 

Later that night, he dialed the number on the poster. When the boy, Peter, picked up, he said, "I'd like to audition for the talent show, please."

~~~~~

Woah, that turned out pretty long, sorry. Top! 

Is it too late to join? This looks really cool.

Can I still join? I can make a boy charrie if you need more guys. 

So I'm going to post my charrie sheet now because I won't have a lot of time the rest of the week. If I'm too late to join, then please ignore this. 

Name: Alex Carrier

Age: 15

Appearance: long (for a boy) dark brown hair, golden hazel eyes, tan skin, pretty tall, but you don't notice it because he usually keeps his head down. 

Personality: an invert, doesn't really talk a lot regardless of whether he's with friends or strangers but that doesn't mean he's shy. He actually has a nice sense of humor and will keep a conversation going if somebody else starts it. Supportive, easy mannered.

Something they're hiding: he's scared to reach out, afraid that somebody's going to judge him. 

Talents: well for art related talents, he's got a nice voice, and can think up song lyrics or basic story plots really quickly. He's never tried acting (I think we have enough acting people here already), but can possibly do a little. He also plays guitar and piano (nothing crazy).  For non-art related talents: he's supportive (as said before) and will stick with something.

Other: he moved to Mabelton a little less than a year ago, and still doesn't really know anyone. He was best friends with someone in his hometown but he never talks to him anymore.