Post by STEVIE ANNE ROSS on Sept 2, 2013 20:55:16 GMT -8
| [atrb=style,width: 420px; background-color: efefef; background-image: url(http://24.media.tumblr.com/0478144b9f16c95a37367d1aca56b45c/tumblr_mkfax8tDxp1s97ldco1_500.png); padding: 5px, bTable] STEVIE A. ROSS 16 | STRAIGHT | SWIMMER | HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT | ZENDAYA COLEMAN "Actually, I was adopted. I don't know why I was named Stevie. My birth parents named me that." It's a question you're used to answering. 'Stevie? Like Stevie Nicks?' It's a logical conclusion, you guess, but that doesn't make you any less irritated with the assumption. You weren't even two when you were adopted, and your adoptive parents don't know any more about your birth parents than you do. From the records, you've managed to figure out that they hadn't given you up. They'd lost custody, you'd been put into foster care, and then you were adopted by the Ross Family. That only answered a few of your questions, though, and it gave you so many more. What had they done to lose custody? Who were they? Did they ever try to get you back? More importantly, why had they given you such a god-awful name? Stevie Ross was very androgynous, and the 'Anne' in the middle barely added any femininity. Not only that, but you had constant questions about it. 'Is it short for something?' No. 'Are you parents into music?' No clue. 'Are you a tomboy?' What the hell does that have to do with anything? You don't hate your name, but you definitely wish you understood the meaning behind it. Sometimes, it makes you feel lost enough that you do. "You want me to go hang out at the lake? That's almost as bad as the pool!" Swimming was an escape for you at the beginning. When you were in the water, nothing was a problem. Everything disappeared except what was happening at that moment. It was what got you through your parent's divorce, and what helped you readjust to life in a new town. Clinging to swimming had pushed you into the competitive side of it, though. A high school swim coach had seen potential in you, and you had risen to it. At this point, a part of you hates swimming. You know a lot of the pressure comes from yourself, but even so, you want to quit sometimes. Winning is addictive, though, and you've discovered that you're a talented swimmer. Your coach says that if you keep training hard, you've got a shot at the Olympic Trials. That's all you want, and you're going to keep working until you get it. Maybe it's feeling abandoned by your birth parents, and then your adoptive father, or maybe it's just a sense of competitiveness that was laying dormant in you your whole life. All you know is that you don't swim because you want to anymore. You swim because you have to. You can see that gold medal already, and you'll be damned if you don't get it and break records while you do. "There's a party tonight? Oh, sorry, I can't go. I've got four am practice." A social life is a luxury you just can't seem to have. Between practices, meets, competitions, school, and family time, you have almost no time to just relax. Hanging out with friends is even harder to make time for. Even when it's not competition season, you're constantly practicing. There are World Championships and Olympics to win, and you don't want to risk being unprepared. You constantly decline invitations to parties, to go shopping, to even just hang out. Unless there's a storm or a taper, you don't spend much time with friends that aren't swimmers as well. Your swim team has become like a second family to you. It only makes sense, considering you spend almost as much time with them as you do with your actual family. You wake up at four in the morning, go to practice, then have breakfast with your team afterwards. Then you have school, followed by more practice. After your afternoon practice, you get to go home, but then you've got homework and family time. By the time you get into bed, you're falling asleep on your feet. The next morning, you start all over again. It's not much fun, and sometimes it's lonely, but you're sure it's worth it. Every time you win a competition, you know it is. "My new gear? Uh, no, I don't know who it's from. Maybe it's some coach who thinks it's a good investment. Can't blame them, you know." When your goggles broke the day before a meet, you were upset. The next morning, you found a new (better) pair in your locker, on top of a note with an email address. You emailed your anonymous benefactor, thanking them for their generosity. They asked for your sizes for your competition suits. Not daring to hope, you gave them the sizes. A week later, you had two new suits in your locker, both top of the line, one labelled 'for practice' and the other 'for meets'. You felt like crying, knowing you would never have been able to afford suits like this without the generosity of the stranger. You sent another email, thanking them again, and asking to meet them. You were sure the gifts were from a coach, hoping to woo you into wanting to join their team. If it was, it was working. A response came, and the stranger agreed to introduce themselves at the next meet. You had one in a week, and you were anxious to find the identity of the person who had been so generous. Determined to prove the investment worthy, you swam harder at that meet than you ever had, beating all your personal best times, and winning first place in all four events you were in. Afterwards, while your teammates were celebrating the other wins, you slipped away, going to the vending machine where you had agreed to meet your mysterious friend. A young man, barely any older than you, was standing there, a smile on his face. He introduced himself as Ozzie, and told you that he'd been wanting to meet you for a long time. He had papers that proved you two were biological siblings, and had been split up by the foster care system when he was six and you were still just a few months old. He'd been looking for you, and when he found you, he wanted to help you. As excited as you were to meet him, you didn't know how to tell your adoptive family. It's been three months, and you still haven't told them that you found Ozzie. He still helps you get gear, and he's become one of your loudest cheerleaders at events. Now, though, when you tell people the new gear is from a coach trying to woo you, you know it's a lie. Miscellaneous facts about Stevie:
BEHIND THE MASK EMILY | 18 | PACIFIC | ALREADY HERE | CASH, CHELSEA, NELL, EEVEE, and REGGIE  |
