Hello Mr. Whitefield, may I take your coat?

Starting a new story. Wish me luck :)

If I were to describe myself in one word it would probably be different. But in many words used by others would be crazy, adoring, blunt. All true and necessary. My indirect, strange personality is what keeps my world spinning. I've been

told I am funny but in an idiosyncratic way. The way I speak differs me from others. It either lures them in or excuses without warning. I don't mean to be a bitch but I come across as a bit too much. I've learned to live with it wherever I go. In this particular situation I'm going to need it the most. Starting a new school. And not just any school, the most prestigious arts school in America. Whitefield School of the Arts. Founded by Christopher Whitefield in 1923. Teenagers from all over the world apply and only twelve out of fifty-thousand get in each year. I'm one of those twelve. The others who got in, all male as I'm told will be sharing the seventh floor of the boarding house with me. Great right! No. Not even close. At the end of the year there is a somewhat of a "talent" competition. Where the winner will get ten-thousand dollars and a full scholarship to Juilliard. That prize is my only goal in this school, other than good grades. Oh and let me introduce myself, my name is Parker Ivey, I'm fifteen. I have long, golden blonde hair that reaches to my lower back. By eyes are blue but sometimes green. I'm not the tallest girl as I stand 5'1". I speak french and I'm not athletic but my performance in the arts makes up for that. I will pretty much say what is on my mind as long as its truthful. And I am on my way to Whitefield to do what I love. I'd only be ecstatic if I weren't sharing an entire floor with eleven guys. Let the fun begin.