Post by WHITNEY ANGELIE COLLINS on Mar 23, 2013 17:41:57 GMT -8
| [atrb=style,width: 420px; background-color: efefef; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/6jh1H.png); padding: 5px, bTable] WHITNEY A. COLLINS 14 | SHE WANTS THE D | TOO YOUNG | TOURIST | ISABELLE FUHRMAN THE INTERVIEW HELLO. THANKS FOR COMING IN TODAY. SHALL WE START WITH YOUR NAME? Whitney grins. “Why not?” Meanwhile, she shifts in her seat, crisscrossing her legs. Much better. “So technically my name is Whitney Angelie Collins, but I personally think that’s kind of a mouthful, so people tend to call me Whit. That’s pretty much it.” Her grin softens, ready to move on to the next question when an epiphany hits. “Oh! Wait. There was this chick named… uh… Crap. I can’t remember her name… Anyways, this chick used to call me NeeNee all the time. I thought it was the strangest thing. What? Is Whit too mainstream?” She rolls her eyes, throwing her hands up in the air. “I think that's all… Wait.” Pauses. “Nope, I’m good. Onward, citizen!” THAT'S A NICE NAME. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING? What did she do for a living? “I like this question,” she admits, drumming on her legs. “Um… What do I do for a living? That makes me sound so old and adulty-like.” Clearing her voice and speaking in a deeper tone, she says, “Well… What’s your name again?” Sarah. “Okay, Sarah. I’m a freshman in high school.” Again, she pauses. “That sounded so much cooler in my head. What the eff, man. Whatever. Like, I guess I sometimes help Annabel out in her bakery, but I don’t technically get paid. You know, because… Child labor is illegal? Well, yeah, Annabel gives me allowance if I help out. In that way, it seems more like a chore. It’s not, though. Like, I do enjoy ‘working’ there. Who doesn’t like free cookies? Well… like, they’re not really free, but I make them so I can’t see how eating one or two… or five…” She laughs. “Anyway, those are made out of my sweat and blood! I deserve to indulge! Just… Don’t tell Annabel, alright? She’d probably kill me." Whit glances up at the interviewer, Sarah. Her train of thought was completely lost. "So... what were we even talking about again? What I do? Oh, yeah. Right. Student. Part-time baker and cookie stealer.” She makes a smug expression, shrugging. "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do." INTERESTING. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN? Whit chuffs, amused. “Honey, what don’t I do for fun?” In some respects, that was actually true. Whit is known for her endless policies of fun. “Oh, you want specific examples. Okay. I’ll try. I’ve always been kind of terrible at explaining things, but for you, I’ll try.” She sucks in a breath. She honestly doesn’t know where to start. “I guess I’m pretty open to new things, so I’m constantly finding new activities to partake in. I know, I know. Specifics. Focus, Whit!” She presses her index fingers to her temples, thinking with her eyes closed. “Oh, I got it! I love running. Shh, I know what you’re thinking. Oh, she probably doesn’t love it that much if she had to think about it. No. Just no. Running is my thing. I know it sounds really cliché, but running gets me in the zone. When I run, I am infinite.” She laughs. “Perks of Being a Wallflower reference, by the way, and no, I didn’t read the book. The movie was great, though. Logan Lerman is a sex god. I mean…” She laughs. “Eff. I managed to get off track again, but since we’re on the topic, I don’t really like reading. Sitting down reading words forever and ever just doesn’t appeal to me. Neither does homework. Or chores. Or writing essays. God, I hate writing essays. I’d much rather be parachuting, dancing, hanging out with friends, watching television, or… I dunno. Scuba diving? During the summer, I’m never in the house. Ever. Now that I think about it, I’m never really at home unless I’m at home with a couple friends. There. Is. A. Difference.” WOULD YOU SAY THOSE ACTIVITIES REFLECT WHO YOU ARE? She’s baffled. “Why would I do things I don’t like?” That makes absolutely no sense to her whatsoever. “I think my ‘hobbies’ define me, if that’s what you mean. It is? Okay. I think we’re on the same page, then. If I were to describe myself in one word, I’d probably say I’m awkward. I know my awkward isn’t necessarily showing right now—which is weird—but I am. Like, super awkward. But at the same time, I’m also very social. All people are my people. My people’s peoples are my peoples. Get me?” She shrugs. “I don’t even know, bro. I just hate being alone. If I’m not physically with someone, I’m more than likely texting someone, snapchatting, facebooking, tweeting, or talking to someone on the phone. Technology, right? Running. Yes, I’m athletic. I know I’m tiny and don’t look like I can run fast, but I can. I’m fast. Like lightning. But faster.” She laughs again. “Just kidding, but that would be kind of awesome, wouldn’t it?” Honestly, Whitney was simply talking to keep the interview going. Annabel said she’d be a little late picking her up. Sitting outside didn’t sound entertaining at all. “I’m also aware I seem spastic… That’s a word, right? Spastic? Spazzy? I have the worst time focusing on anything. I totally forgot to mention this, but one of my best friends in New York used to call me Sidetrack because I can’t focus on one thing to save my life. Like reading. Sometimes people get the impression that I’m dumb. I can see where they’re coming from, but really, I’m not. I manage to get A’s and B’s on my report card, which isn’t Valedictorian-worthy, but I’m not interested in that nerdy nonsense, anywho. My homework gets done on time… mostly. I never get much lower than a C on all my tests. School just isn’t my thing. If I could, I'd just show up for drumline and track before heading right on home.” COOL BEANS. THEY SAY YOUR FAMILY SHAPES WHO YOU ARE. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOURS? Whitney gasps, suddenly excited. “You say ‘cool beans,’ too?” Her killer grin had retaken its place on her face. “Hot Rod is such a funny movie! Oh my gosh. Andy Samberg? I have the biggest crush on him. No joke. He’s so funny and cute. Like, I’d date him in a heartbeat.” Whitney gushes continuously, only stopping herself when she realized that, once again, her mind had wandered off the topic. In fact, she didn’t even recall what Miss Sarah had asked. “I’m sorry, what was the question? I’ll listen this time. Family? Oh, this shouldn’t take too long. Annabel—my mom—is the only family I’ve had for the past fourteen years. Why do I call my mom Annabel? It’s… kind of hard to explain. I think she prefers it. I’m not exactly sure what happened between her and my grandma, but I remember her telling me that’s why she wants me to call her by her first name. I don’t mind. It makes me feel like her equal, and in a lot of ways, we are. Annabel is my best friend. We are really close and I have no idea what I’d do without her. A lot of teenagers hate their parents, but I don’t. Well, I don’t hate my parent. Singular. Heh.” Whitney shifted in her chair for the third time during the interview, this time pulling one leg under her bottom while the other hung loose. “I’m supposed to meet my dad soon. Annabel never talked about him until a couple weeks ago. I don’t really know why she did, but part of me is glad she had? I’ve always wondered who my dad is. I’ve always wondered what he’s like. Now I’ll finally know. It’s liberating as well as nerve-wracking. Like, what if he’s nothing like I imagined? I’m fine with change, but I was really happy with my life in New York. I don’t want to see everything change just because my dad decided to step up for once.” AND YOUR LIFE? TELL ME ABOUT YOUR PAST. I'M EAGER TO HEAR. Whitney pouts. “Do we have to?” When that didn’t work, she gradually relented. “Okay, fine. But you’re not getting any scandalous details, aight?” She waggles her finger firmly before throwing her head back, thinking. “Annabel had me out of wedlock, and my grandma didn’t approve. My grandma is pretty influential and… like, super religious. Religious to a point of craziness. I kid you not. Annabel’s options were abort or adopt. Obviously, she didn’t pick either option, so my grandma disowned her or something like that. I know it was a rough time by the way Annabel talks about it. I can remember bits and pieces of the apartment I spent my toddler years in. It was really small. Then we moved to an apartment that was a little bigger but not luxurious. That’s where I’m moving from, actually. It was fine for the two of us. We couldn’t have pets, but it was nice. Like, I’m not even sure what to tell you about my past. Annabel and I sort of lived day to day, never looking back but never being too concerned with the future. All I can tell you is this: it’s always been us. Annabel rarely dated. It wasn’t like I was a kid who wasn’t able to get my way, either. Annabel always made sure I had everything I needed. I couldn’t always have the newest toys all the time, but that’s what Christmas is for! Over the years, Annabel became more than just my mom. Now we have a ton of weird traditions we do. Like scary movie and tv dinner Fridays. Cool, huh?” What about a secret? Everyone has a secret. For the first time in the interview, Whitney frowns. “It’s ironic you ask me this question after I just gushed over how close I am to Annabel,” she sighs almost bitterly. “I do share everything with Annabel, but there are some things I just can’t…” Whitney bites her lip, hesitant to go on. “I’ve told you Annabel has always given me enough to get by, and I am grateful for everything she gives me. Sometimes I feel out of date, though. The kids I spend my time with wear designer brands, upgrade their phones with each release, and somehow manage to go to the movies every week. I can’t. Sometimes I wish I could have things like that, too. I just can’t. Annabel isn’t to blame, either. I just wish money wasn’t so tight.” ALRIGHT. TIME'S ALMOST UP. TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DREAMS. QUICK! Almost instantly, Whitney recovers. She has to. No one likes a Debbie Downer. “I dream about some of the weirdest stuff… Like, a couple days ago, I had this dream where I was riding a hippopotamus and it rolled over onto me. I died. Oh! Oh, oh, oooooh! You mean my dreams for the future.” She cracks up. “Well, ladies and gents, that was a blonde moment sponsored by Whitney Collins!” She sighs, shaking her head. “That was really stupid of me. Okay. So. You mean more like what do I want to be when I grow up. I don’t really have an answer. I’m fourteen. I wake up every other day with a new idea in mind. I think it’d be awesome to be a food journalist. Eating food and then talking about it? Count me in. But… wait. That requires writing. Scratch that. I seriously have no idea. I’d like to earn a Varsity letter for track and field, though. If that counts.” AND THAT'S A WRAP. IT WAS NICE GETTING TO KNOW YOU. “Really? That’s it?” Her face is serious for a moment before she grins. “I’m just messing with you. I had a fantabulous time. You should stick to interviewing and whatnot. You’re good at it. Maybe next time I can interview you. It could be called…” She presents an imaginary arced banner with her arms. “The Interview: Sam, I mean, Sarah Edition.” Sarah doesn’t seem to be taken by the idea. “Oh, come on. It will be fun. Please? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease… Wait. Yes? Score! You won’t regret it, I promise.” With that, she kicks open the door and goes on her merry way. BEHIND THE MASK CHAR | 00 | PACIFIC | MY UNICORN | ADRIAN, HARLOW, & TIFFANY ---------------  |
