Bender Walsh has faced the knowledge that when it comes to her friend Alaska Young, there's no comparison as to who Bender believes is the far superior, despite them both having unique names. All the guys want her, all the girls want to be her. Rega...
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I am fascinated by all kinds of art.
For example I love the writer Louisa May Alcott, who wrote "You have so many extraordinary gifts; how can you expect to lead an extraordinary life?"
Or the artist Picasso, whose father gave up painting himself when Picasso was thirteen because he found that his son was better than him at it.
I get inspired by numerous pieces of art, both physical and literary, which always makes me want to do one thing; write.
And I swore to myself that one day, I would find a grand adventure that I'd write about; though I write on the daily, it would be my first real novel.
As my parents drove me up to Culver Creek, I took the time to look at the little flowers on the side of the road, the hues of purple, yellow and white becoming more and more of a blur every time I blinked my eyes: the short spurts of beauty doing no justice to the girl I couldn't help but think of:
My friend Alaska, so named because Alaska was big- just like she wanted to be. All those flowers were the same as her- they were growing because they wanted to be big and make a statement, just like her.
"Honey, we're here!"
I sniffled when my mother called me out of my daze, the deep green sign with the faded gold words "Culver Creek" pushing past as my family drove onto the grass in front of my dorm- room number 47, where I'd be sharing with a girl called Lara. Given how Culver Creek is an exceptionally small boarding school, she must be a new girl.
Not much was said by my parents as they helped me move in my stuff, my younger sister helping by trying to make the bed as smooth as she could- she insisted that I had the bed closest to the window as it would inspire me whenever I read. I just hoped that it might be able to remind me of the book nook that I made for myself in my bay window at home.
My parents had left after a little, and I bit my lip as I continued to work on unpacking my stuff; I guess I could say more about my family, but they were so normal that I guess it would be useless to say more: the perfect parents who had been in love since high school, and the two daughters that are both artistically inclined.
You know, except for the fact that they tend to forget that I exist and only brought me to Culver Creek because they had nowhere else they wanted to keep me.
I wouldn't say I'm anything close to perfect. And as I opened my box of photos to stick on my wall, I was only reminded of how imperfect I was when I looked at the picture of me, Takumi, Alaska and the Colonel from last year because I was reminded of how madly in love I was with my best friend Takumi.
"Er, excuse me?"
I glanced over my shoulder at the voice, smiling when I did indeed meet the nervous eyes of a girl I'd never seen before: blonde hair, nice lips, and a cute purple dress. "Hey!"
