Name: Brink Smith
Age: 17
Hair colour: Brown
Eye colour: Brown
Dorm: Darren's Wing
Personality: He is a strong and solid person, emotionally and physically. Despite his withdrawn attitude he is the most trust worthy and dependable person. He will do anything to protect his friends, and he means anything.
History: He was adopted, and was made fun of as a child because his parents were white and he was black. His parent's also died when he was 12 and he was sent to his rich grandparents.
Element: Metal
Friends: Tamina Macknight, Natasha Dentee, Damien Jamison, Shelby MacKnight, Alexander Feilds, Monica Mazi; Jazon Mazi
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I stood in my room, wondering what would happen to me. I knew that the pace of my life was so different from everybody else. I knew it was slower, much slower, but I did not mind, simply because I found no reason to run around, screaming. It just didn’t seem right, in fact, sometimes, it seemed downright stupid, but I never voiced this opinion. In fact, some people even dared to call me a pushover, a doormat, even.
With time, I had already learned from experience that really, one of the best things to do to this type of treatment was absolutely nothing, to just suck it all up. Everyone always expected I, a “black” to always fight, to defend myself, but I knew that doing nothing would prevent me from getting in trouble, and besides, it just wasn’t something I would do. It wasn’t something my type would ever do.
Either way, I didn’t exactly want to think of that type of things right now. I really wanted to just relax, and enjoy a couple of moments of peace, and I really, really did not want to bother myself with this type of troubling thoughts, which, even though I was not as laid-back as Tamina MacKnight, I still liked to enjoy some relaxing times in my life.
I sighed, lying on my couch. I really, really wanted to read some books right now, even though most wouldn’t think that I was the type to enjoy reading novels. Leaning back, I looked inside my bookshelf, and selected a particular volume I enjoyed reading over and over and over again.
It was called
A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks. Most would tell me that it was a gooey old story only for foolish young girls, but I begged to differ. Anyone who wasn’t able to appreciate the beauty of that wonderful book was the strange one. However, my peace was soon disturbed by a crying figure who rushed into my room.
Oh well, it was good while it lasted.
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*sobs* I apologize for the suckiness!
BRINK SMITH
