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Why are you creeping me?

I'm checking out your post history... 0.17021276595745 17.0% [ 8 ]
I followed you from the 'join me in the forums' link... 0.14893617021277 14.9% [ 7 ]
I'm checking out yo' pseudos... 0.19148936170213 19.1% [ 9 ]
I JUST LOVE YOU VERY VERY MUCH!!! <3 0.48936170212766 48.9% [ 23 ]
Total Votes:[ 47 ]
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ईशा - सबसे युवा


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                                  I'm on my knees looking for the answer...
                                  Are we human, or are we dancer?
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ईशा - सबसे युवा


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                                  Isha was cold. Sure, he was wearing a long-sleeve shirt with a Juilliard School of Dance hoodie on top of it (a gift from Jess when she'd left), but it wasn't enough for the chill of New Jersey. He drew the black scarf around him tight and shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his jeans. His all-star knockoffs were threadbare and he was pretty sure they might have even had a hole, but then again he hadn't gotten any new clothes in a few months. All of the money that hadn't been drained from his brothers staying at Oxford and Cambridge went towards his college applications. And although all of his siblings had had bank accounts that his parents had been working towards since they were infants, Isha's had been siphoned off because while they knew Ravi and Siva would go Ivy League, they didn't expect the out-of-country part.

                                  His clothes were old but that wasn't what Isha cared about as he looked out at the frigid landscape. He'd been sitting on a bus for hours, heading up to New York. He was staying at his sister's because he had in fact gotten into Columbia. He knew that he would but there was always that doubt deep down inside. And now that he'd been accepted, and gotten the initial scholarships, it seemed possible to go there. It was a completely different change of pace. Going from sleazy, warm Florida to the bustling life of the heart of New York City. And it was a good change that he felt he'd need. Even though he was excited to see his sister and his brother-in-law, he was mainly happy because he'd get to see someone he missed unbelievably.

                                  Jessica Ryans.

                                  Being in glee again, and having Jackie there was great but his best confidant, the person who'd been there and understood all the frustrations was gone, and he missed her so much it was ridiculous. Just the little things. Being able to study with her and laugh and curl up on his couch because his parents weren't home again. The house was empty for longer stretches of time now, and he hadn't had any of the other Glee kids over. He missed dancing with Jess, coming up with choreography and the smell of her hair and how she never wore too much makeup. And through the summer, all the time they'd spent together. Her leaving for New York had hit hard in ways he least expected it to.

                                  New Jersey's ugly, he thought, as he looked out at the barren, empty landscape, wondering how anyone could stand to live in such a place. There was nothing. It wasn't even enough to at least distract him from his thoughts. I wonder if she feels remotely the same way... That was his biggest worry. The summer was the best of his life. He hadn't needed to drink, he hadn't needed to try and get out of his head. He'd been happy. But even good things had to come to an end, and when she'd headed up to Juilliard he was insanely happy for her but he couldn't help but feel a little jealous - all his siblings had gone and left him too and now Jess was no different.

                                  The rest of the bus ride to New York was boring, filled with sleep and multiple attempts to finish his winter break homework. He texted Jackie as well, and she insisted he take a multitude of pictures of both the surroundings and himself while he was up, even though they all consisted of a rather blank landscape until he got into the city, where he just took out his digital camera, documenting as he rode over the bridge into New York. His sister and her fiance, Ray, were waiting for him. They were talking to each other as he got off, immediately shivering at the coldness. His sister noticed and she looked surprised. "Isha! Are you crazy?! It's December, you need more stuff on than that!"

                                  He gave her a small half-smile. He responded in Hindi. "Nice to see you too, Asha." She smiled and responded "Ray doesn't speak Hindi." He made the switch back to English, his hands wrapped around him tightly. He turned to Ray. "Hi. I'd shake your hand but I'm afraid my fingers will fall off." His face was serious, but Ray laughed anyways. "Nice! Well we'll fix you up with some winter clothes if you're going to be staying in New York, right sweet?" Isha adverted his eyes as they shared a small kiss. He mainly wanted to get out of the cold. And wet. The snow was seeping into his shoes and getting his socks wet and he hated wet socks. "Okay Isha, let's go."

                                  - - -


                                  At Columbia University, Isha was now armed with a warm winter coat on top of his hoodie, on top of a t-shirt on top of a wife beater with a new pair of jeans and solid boots. He couldn't remember what they were called but they were tough and they kept out the nasty wetness. The school was better than he could have imagined but now was the time he'd secretly been waiting for the entire time... to see Jess. She was supposed to meet him at the Starbucks at a certain cross-streets. He was nervous. The moments they'd shared... he had no idea if she still cared about him or if she was only doing this because she felt obligated. He was nervous, terrified even, although he kept his face schooled to its normal expressionless state. He had a feeling it would completely shatter when he saw her. He walked into Starbucks, focusing on breathing, and sat down in an overstuffed chair with as straight of a back as he could, his eye dashing to the door everytime someone walked in.


                                  I'm on my knees looking for the answer...
                                  Are we human, or are we dancer?
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ईशा - सबसे युवा


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                                  Isha wasn't doing much. Hanging out in the library seemed to now be a staple part of his regimen, and the librarian was so used to it that after hours she didn't even realize that he was still in there. The solitude was nice, he could just open up his laptop and do his schoolwork without the pressure of other people, if he ever had schoolwork. He didn't at the moment, he'd finished all of that and was just browsing Bollywood and dance videos on YouTube, trying to find the next thing. He watched some moves by Aishwarya Rai before checking out the most recent dance craze, which seemed to be the "Stanky Legg." He kept that in his mental file cabinet for later use, it didn't seem much harder than "Make-Your-Leg-Look-Retarded Legg" Dance.

                                  A ringing sound jolted him out of his musings. He paused the regretablly idiotic music video to see what was making the noise. He was getting a video call online from none other than the UK. It was his brothers. His mouth dropped for a moment and he clicked the 'answer with video', settling in front of the screen to figure out what was going on. He was greeted by the sight of both of his brothers chatting on conference call, staring into the camera and obviously in deep conversation. "What? Honestly she wouldn't let you?" Siva had a look of astonishment and Ravi nodded. "Seriously! I was doing the normal thing, you know. It was about 3 in the morning, I had a test to study for that sunday so I just wanted to leave, I didn't have time for the spooning, and she woke up and told me no!"

                                  Instead of making them aware of his presence, Isha decided to listen to the duration of this tangent. "That's sick, sick. Did you have a row?" He hadn't talked to his brothers in so long he'd forgotten that they had accents. "No. She was really hot, I mean, total Raapchik, so I decided to stay." Siva was a bit blown away by that statement and honestly so was Isha. His brothers never stayed the night at girl's houses, they made it quite plain that they were only there for one thing. While they weren't as wild as before, and no longer complete whores, no girl was truly safe. "It's okay, she made a really good breakfast. French toast and hash browns and sausage and fruit." Siva nodded in approval and at that point in time, Isha decided to cough politely.

                                  The twins turned to the screen. They both smiled and said "Bhaiyya!" at the same time. It was that mental connection thing they were famous for. Speaking in stereo was common. Isha grinned. "I'm surprised, Ravi, it seems like you're being roped in, aren't you? First she makes you breakfast, next you'll be holding her hand on campus and she'll be wanting to make little tan babies with you." Ravi's mouth dropped. "Dedh shaana!" Isha smiled. "You guys finally remember you had a younger brother all the way in America?" They protested loudly and ran over each other with variations of "No!" And "Never!" He didn't mind, though. He was just glad to see them.

                                  They were asking him how he was doing when a little blurb on the screen distracted them. Their sister had logged onto Skype and the twins freaked out. "Oh my god! She's never online - " "Wow! Wow! Holy s**t it's Aakansha, let's get her on here" "Wow wow wow wow..." While they were busy scrambling, Isha added Asha to the conference call. It opened and the screen showed her adjusting the web camera. She smiled. "Thank the gods, it's my little brothers." Her fiance, a man from the Punjab region of India named Ray, waved at the three of them from the back. Isha, Ravi, and Siva all said "Hi," at the same time and he seemd more than a little creeped out. "It's so wonderful to see the three of you! We haven't all been in the same space since we all went to India!"

                                  Isha smiled even bigger, seeing the happy faces of his siblings always put him in a better mood. Even if they didn't understand or even know about what was going on at home, they were always nice. Of course his siblings had lives of their own, so he didn't get to talk to them much. His brother's soccer schedule was insane, especially since they were now being scouted for all sorts of international teams. Rumor had it that teams in India, America, and Europe were eyeing them, especially together as a tour de force. And if the soccer didn't work then they had promising careers in the sciences anyways. He had no idea how his brothers managed to be on honors as well as the social butterflies (or dragonflies) that they were, and be part of the most acclaimed college soccer teams in the world. His sister was now a researcher for the American Cancer Society and making a lot of money, while her future husband was a CEO. Isha's parents didn't need to worry about being repaid later in life.

                                  So, in the grand scheme of things, sometimes Isha was on the back burner of his sibling's thoughts. But they made it up to him in the ways that counted. "So Isha... anything new going on at West Grove?" "Any hot girls?" "Any scandals?" "Dhating," Asha said, smiling at the twins, who made kissy faces unapologetically. Isha grinned back, trying to keep from laughing. "Well, I joined... the Glee club." They stopped and stared at him for awhile and Isha waved his hand in front of the camera to see if they were still there. "Oh my gosh! I was there when it was dying!" He couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Yeah, they brought it back. It's kind of small but... it's kind of cool." "Glee? So does that mean you can like..." "Sing and dance and stuff?" Isha thought about it. "Yeah." They seemed surprised, but instead of the slightly derogatory but light headed comments, all three of his older siblings just said "Cool."

                                  He felt a hidden tension release when they received it positively. For some reason he'd expected his lean, mean, ripped brothers to say some sort of gay joke that they were inclined to, or his sister to smile but be hesitant. Not the enthusiasm. "I didn't know you could shake your moneymaker, bhaiyya!" Ravi said, leaning in closer to the camera with a grin identical to both Siva and Isha's. "That'll help you with the ladies." "So relevant, you two." Aakansha smiled sweetly. "So who is in the club, then? Any seniors that we would know maybe?" Isha thought about it. "Maybe... uh. There's a few. One is a second year senior, actually." They snorted. "Kohich aayela hai?" "Uh... Samuel Tsui."

                                  Both his brothers went into thought, Asha was making some sort of gesture to her fiance and talking rapidly in Punjab. It was similar enough to Hindi but different enough give Isha a headache. So he ignored them, wondering how his sister managed to learn it just for her Paavwalla husband-to-be. "Wait... is that the... the little bum bandit?" Isha burst out laughing. "Yes, yes it is." The twins laughed along with Isha. "Someone needs to tell him to kopdi chaatna or something," "Gah, he's so annoying!" "Anyone else, bhaiyya?" "So, there's this girl, she's kind of stuck-up, ASB president. Her name's Daveigh Mortimer." This time Siva started coughing. "Oh she was always trying to get in on the popular crowd! Hung arond us all the time, never liked her." "Has she got the pole out of her a**?" "Ravi!" Asha chided, listening again.

                                  "No." They grinned. "Who else?" "Well... there's this artist type, he's fairly bitchy to me. His name's Isaiah." His brothers didn't quite remember. "Isaiah who?" "King." "Tall? Skinny? Apparently Mexican but looks like any other goreh?" "The one." "Don't mind him, he's too busy trying to be the stereotypical artist. He's not creative enough to actually break away from the stereotype." The statement genuinely surprised Isha but he said "Alright. Another one is Miles Thompson." This time he was pretty sure the twins practically fell out of their chairs laughing.

                                  "Be nice you two! What's so funny?" Ravi couldn't breathe so Siva took up the task of explaining. "Bol Bachan. Miles Thompson?" "Yeah. Why's that so funny?" "I - I thought you h-hated him!" Ravi managed to gasp out. "I do, but why's this so funny." "Yeah, I kind of want to know too..." Aakansha seemed confused. "You know how we got Miles to stop bullying you?" "...Yeah." "Well you don't know how we did it - " "He got drunk at a party and started singing My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion." Isha stared at the screen, Asha was obviously no longer interested but his brothers were having a good time.

                                  "No way." They nodded. "Yes way. Anyways, so you can use that against him. Exactly what that Paavwalla gets for making fun of you all those years." "Thanks." Siva leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "So who's the last one?" "A cheerleader. Jess." At the mention of the word 'cheerleader' Ravi perked up. "Jessica... Ryans? Oh wow, how's she doing? She was hot, even as a freshman." Isha didn't say anything. "Didn't you ask her out your senior year? Creep, Ravi." Ravi looked offended. "Not my fault! I was under the influence." "Yeah, we did get into some pot after soccer season our senior year... I'm glad we're over that, you were stupid." Asha's mouth dropped. "My little brothers were smoking weed?!" They both shrugged.

                                  "I can't believe this. Anyways, Isha, my young, innocent, non-corrupted brother. You never said what you think about Jess." Isha shrugged. Like groundhogs, the twins perked up. "No answer? You know what that means, bhaiyya." "Do tell us about her. Are you diving for pom-poms?" Asha pretended not to hear and let out a gasp. "Oh my gosh! Isha, do you like her?" "She's a good friend. I tutor her." "Tutor her like you tutored Kamna in India, hey hey?" Isha buried his face in his hands. "What? Kamna? India? Who's that?" Aakansha looked both clueless and suspicious. "Nothing, nothing." Isha hoped the subject would die but the gods were not merciful enough. "Tutor her in all the right things, Isha? Anatomy... Chemistry..." "I'm going to die," Isha muttered.

                                  "What happened in India?!" Asha said again, looking at the three screens of her brothers. Isha waved it off. "Nothing, nothing. I mean it. Absolutely nothing, totally boring." "That's not what she said..." "You got some good reviews, bhaiyya." "I'm ending this conversation," Isha said, completely mortified. Aakansha had an incredulous look on her face and said "You know what? I don't want to know. God is judging you three." The three older siblings bickered among themselves while Isha's phone rang. He looked at it, and saw a text from Jess asking if he would meet with her and work on the Glee choreography. "Look, I gotta go. I love you guys, we should talk again." They said their goodbyes, and the last thing he heard his sister say to the twins was "I'm not done with you two - " He smiled, packing up his laptop and books and exiting the library.


                                  I'm on my knees looking for the answer...
                                  Are we human, or are we dancer?
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                              Mimi set down her guitar when she notice Degare in the room. The look on his face wasn't pleasant. She had stopped playing a few minutes prior and was nodding off but now she was fully alert, looking at how tense he was. The words "We have to talk." weren't good in the best of situations. It set her on edge as well, tired eyes and stretched out nerves. Although of all the things he could have said. He could have yelled at her, berated her, given her a talking to. She wouldn't have been surprised at any of these things. But of course he did the one thing that completely put her off-kilter.

                              "You're what?" She had to stare at him while he went through the rest of his spiel, and she was just sitting there in disbelief. She had no idea what he was expecting out of her to say to that. She was speechless. Mimi had to get her thoughts together and put her guitar back in the case meticulously while doing so, a range of expressions flickering through her face. She breathed in and out slowly, and when she finished she turned to him with a slightly angry expression. "What the ********] She stood up so that she didn't feel confined to the corner anymore.

                              "So, just like that, you're going to up and leave." She stared at him incredulously. A bad day had just gotten worse and the holy ******** grail of the moment was that she didn't even know why it was so bad. She'd just been complaining about him the entire time although lately it'd been increasingly half-hearted. She was just frustrated. And she didn't like appearing distressed in front of him, again, but this wasn't any sort of good news. "Goddamnit." She ran her hand through her hair and over her face. She wanted him to leave but since she was in his room, she was the one that had to pack up her stuff and leave. "I'm going to rehearsal. Just get me there and then just... leave. Or whatever it was that you were planning to do."

                              She walked down the lobby, still feeling a bit hungover and her headache coming back full force. She muttered swear words to herself, guitar on her back. She walked out onto the street, cell phone in her pocket and hailed a cab. She didn't talk, didn't say anything, didn't do anything except cross her arms and stare at the back of the seat, her face dark. She had no idea why she was so upset and why she was throwing essentially another temper tantrum. She didn't like feeling like this. She didn't like this situation. She didn't like not disliking him. This s**t is confusing, she thought, rubbing at her temples briefly.

                              The car was too small for her and she wanted to leap out but was dejected when she saw paparazzi standing outside the stage door where she was going to be rehearsing. That meant she had to try and pretend she wasn't tired, and play nice. If you're nice to them, they're nice back. Most of the time. She tied her hair back in a messy bun and breathed in and out before opening the door, flashing what she hoped was a sincere smile although she just wanted to chew the inside of her lip, glower, and go in. "Mimi! Mimi! Over here." She gave one a swift wave. "Why the sudden urge to bring in politics, Mimi? Was it a media ploy?" "You tell me," she called out before opening the door and going in.

                              When inside she made her way to the stage where her boys were quite obviously messing around. She smiled when she saw them. They were in various states of casual dress or just plain undress, currently gathered around Nathaniel and his bass, because he was posing with it and doing all sorts of ridiculous things while Alistair took pictures. "Careful, you know those will end up on Facebook," she called out. Five heads turned her way. "MIMI!" they came up to her, asking if she was okay or needed anything. "How about a kickass rehearsal?" she said. They needed to get used to the new space and she wanted to get out of her head. "Yeah, sure thing." John said. "By the way, le Douche is mysteriously sick today. Said he wouldn't be here." So the sleaze manager wouldn't be there. Suited Mimi fine. She was going to fire him anyways.

                              "Let's take it from the top then."


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Ruling the school wasn't as fulfilling as most people thought.

Or at least to Lee, hotshot senior at Spencer Academy, it wasn't. He had just finished his last class of the day at the yuppie prep high school and loosened the tie around his neck, the uniform tailored and fit to a 't'. He was built strong and tall, like the rest of the Sons and seemed to reek with the smell of old money. He and the rest of the Sons of Ipswich ran the school, in a sense. Everyone seemed to look up to them for reasons he didn't even understand. Sure they were hotshot athletes and seemed to have a scent that attracted all the females, but they were more or less human.

Maybe a little less than they'd let on. Because the hidden secret to why the Sons of Ipswich were even so was that they were, in fact, less human. They were warlocks. The first son of every family. And Lee, being the eldest with only a younger sister, had the Power.
              "Yeah. Hi."

              Aiden generally didn't appreciate phone calls in the middle of the night. While he dealt with them better than someone of a mortal nature, they still weren't on his list of favorite reasons to be woken up in the middle of the night. The only things on that list involved Eve, food, or Eve. Except in this case, babies had to make an exception. There was a lot of unintelligible noise and he yawned loudly, not feeling as alert as he felt he should experience. "Yeah we'll be there in a few." Eve got dressed quickly and he shot her a glance, sitting up and shrugging the monster paper off of his stomach, which it seemed he'd fallen asleep with on the couch. A constant companion to his seemingly chaotic life.

              He let out a sound kind of like "Urgh," before rolling off of the couch and hitting the floor with a solid thud, giving him reason to stand up, shake himself out, and grab an extra pair of clothes from the dresser and shove them into a bag. He was perfectly fine at this moment being seen in public with his white wife beater and blue flannel pajama pants. Although for good measure he also grabbed a hoodie. Not that he needed it but it'd leave a good appearance. "You drive so I can sleep a few more minutes on the way there. Try not to take any sharp turns, yeah?" he smiled at Eve and tossed her the key to his Aston Martin.

              On the way there, he fell back into a deeper sleep, filled with familiar voices. One was a friend he hadn't spoken to in a long time. A happy, pushy voice and the scent of cigars floating around. "They're finally here are they?" "Yes..." "Well go on! Go there and take care and tell me all about it later..." He shifted in his sleep and smiled. The visits were much fewer now that life had settled down relatively but whenever there was something significant going on, Rami would be there, asking and offering advice and such, the dreams still as vivid as ever. Aiden felt like he didn't utilize his clarivoyance as much anymore, now that he was trying to life a little more normally. More 'human' rather than wolf, which had dominated more of his life for those couple of years.

              He woke up when they arrived at the hospital, and this time he was alert. They went up to the front desk, him in his pajamas and curly disheveled hair and Eve seemingly bouncing with energy. "Yeah, we're here for Jacqueline Gray." "Oh yes, although I'm afraid the father-to-be seems to be in more of a state of distress than the mother." Aiden smiled. "That would be Richard. Anyways, may we find out what room they're in?"
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ईशा - सबसे युवा


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                                  Isha had decided to chug down the beer quickly when nobody was looking his direction and tossed the empty bottle into his bag, wishing that he had more than the one Jess gave him so he could at least get a slight buzz going and he wouldn't have to focus in on anything. It almost seemed the waste of a drink to just have one. He sat on the bleachers, positioning himself to where he could see the cheerleaders well enough. "Aaj ki raat hona hai kya..."* he muttered under his breath, looking around at the mix of excited kids and drunk kids. He yawned and crossed his arms and sat there, wondering exactly why he'd agreed to do this. He didn't think there was really a good reason he was doing this.

                                  "ISHA!"

                                  He smiled to himself as he heard the thuds that followed the scream of his name, turning his head slightly in time for him to see Jackie careening into his vision. "Hey Jackie," he said, shifting to face her and standing up so she leaned against him. He was forever charmed by her presence. Jackie was basically his best friend at the school, there was no getting around it. He loved her dearly and she never failed to put him in a good mood, and even when she was 'frustrated' because she didn't understand an assignment there was never a moment where she wasn't her happy self. She seemed to radiate with some inner light and it was a nice contrast to the despair that Isha sometimes felt inside him, that he fought off any way he knew how.

                                  "Dang nabbit Isha! Jess beat me to it! I wanted ot be the one to draw lines on your face!" Jackie, being his best confidante, also was the one who knew Isha tutored Jess. The dissapointment on her face, however, was palpable and he let out a sigh, weighing the costs and benefits in his mind. "Well Jackie, if you want, you can paint the rest of my face..." Sure that meant he'd have to spend two hours scrubbing the pigment off of his face but if it made Jackie happy then it was worth it. "I don't really need it for anything. I mean, if you don't mind working with a darker canvas, that is." And at least his face wouldn't be pink when he spent that time trying to get it off.

                                  "Jackie," He was staring slightly horrified at her chest. Anyone who looked at them would have gotten the wrong impression but he just raised a hand to his temple and rubbed it. "Number 56? Really?" He knew all about her crush. It was hard to avoid when he sat there correcting her homework and she would have MRS. MILES THOMPSON doodled in her nice cursive in the corner and margins. He ignored it as best as possible but he couldn't help but get irritated. "Just... paint me face and get it over with, please." Worrying he'd been a bit too harsh, he gave her a small smile to negate his words. He never wanted to cause Jackie any discomfort. "And you really do look good, Jackie. Purple and white spirit garb suits you."

                                  He sat there through her ministrations and tried not to think about how much his friend was in love with a guy he generally knew to be a douchebag. Maybe the entire school was infatuated with him but they hadn't had to bear the brunt of Miles' cruelest form of torture. He didn't understand how someone that had so effortlessly ******** up a majority of his school career could be so well-liked, and even by someone he held in the highest regard. He sighed as he looked past Jackie onto the field, where Jess and Daveigh seemed to be having some sort of conversation (or confrontation) and stared at Jess. She was dating Miles. The jackass. She deserves so much better than that idiot.

                                  Miles had the opportunity to actually hang out with Jess and for that, Isha was already angry. One of two friends Isha felt he really had and he couldn't even see one during school days when other people could possibly see them. Miles had the priveledge of actually being seen with her. And not only did he get to associate with Jess but he had the one person Isha could really depend on 24/7 completely around his pinky. So Miles apparently had both of Isha's friends under him and then had what appeared to be an idyllic home life. Isha knew Miles' mother because she took Asha's engagement pictures and the father because he did a sports segment on the local radio, and Isha liked to listen whenever he did a section on soccer, since he was waiting to see what team his brothers got signed on to. He was always disspointed that soccer was usually skimmed over but that was all he could do. He dragged himself out of his thoughts and turned back to Jackie after looking at Jess briefly. "Do I look spirited, now?"


                                  माहौल रंगीन और नशे की लत है
                                  फिर भी बेचैनी है
                                  क्यों दिल इतना पीटा करता है, इसलिए यह कहना है
                                  पागल प्रेमी पता नहीं है
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ईशा - सबसे युवा


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                                  Isha checked himself in the mirror as the studio was alive with people running around. He seemed strangely calm as a small woman came up, talking rapidly into the headset around her ears, securing a mike onto the inside of his lapel. "Mr. Dosanjh, you're on in three minutes. Remember to smile at Camera 2 when you walk on first, and shake hands with Tina before you sit down." He nodded and looked at himself in the mirror. He was dressed smartly in a pair of dark jeans, a white colllared shirt with a silver tie and a dark blue blazer. He completed the ensemble with black All-Stars instead of the dress shoes that was normally thought of standard for the journalism field.

                                  "Okay, you're on. Walk out there." The busy bee short woman that had been attending Isha paused and smiled at him, looking him up and down. "You look great." He smiled back before walking out to meet with Tina Trang, his interviewer. He couldn't believe he actually got a weekly segment on MSNBC - this was serious. Six years ago he never would have thought that this was where his life was going. He never thought that he would end up majoring in Journalism, and Communcations / Media Broadcasting with a minor in Fine Arts Management. He had a great life, being an art critic and working for minor news shows and newspapers before finally hitting it big with MSNBC, and a yearly gig with the Indian Classical Dance Theatre. He found his niche away from the sciences, and he couldn't have been happier.

                                  "MSNBC would like to welcome the newest addition to our staff - Isha Dosanjh!"

                                  Isha walked into the studio, shaking hands with Tina Trang before sitting down, comfortably crossing one leg over his knee, seeing a wave through the audience as they speculated about his choice of footwear. His mental excuse was that he was young and he wanted to be relatable to his audience. And he hated dress shoes."Tell us about yourself, Isha." He settled in his seat and said "As you know, I'm Isha Dosanjh. I'm 24 years old, originally from West Grove, Florida. I enjoy long walks on the beach - " She laughed and he smiled too. "Anyways, in all seriousness, I studied at Columbia University where I majored in Journalism and Communications and Media Broadcasting, and a minor in Arts Management. I've lived here in New York ever since."

                                  She leaned in to talk to him and he was reading something in her eyes he wasn't totally comfortable with but they both looked TV-worthy so he didn't mind at the moment. "So, I'm sure everyone is curious. Any relation to the twenty-nine year old English soccer twin superstars Ravi and Siva Dosanjh?" He wasn't upset as he felt he should have been, because he had already known that the question was going to come up. Over the last six years he'd done a lot of healing and the bitterness was not there. "Yes, in fact. Ladies, those two are my older brothers. And before you send me mail asking, yes they are single, no, they are not looking and no there is no way for me to introduce you. I do have baby pictures however, so if they're out of hand I can post them on my MSNBC site."

                                  Tina laughed. "I'm sure the entire world knows of their escapades! Have you ever been involved in any of them?" Isha smiled broader this time. "I'm afraid I'm under the brotherly oath of secrecy, so I'll let you speculate that for yourself." She made an 'oooh,' face and then moved on from the subject."Any other siblings that are circling around here?" He smiled, shifting forward a bit. "Well I have a sister and brother-in-law. Aakansha and Pavan Singh." "And what do they do? You and your brothers are pretty in the world, and your parents are scientists." "Well, my sister is a researcher for the American Cancer Society and my brother-in-law is a CEO for a Fortune 10 Company and also a contributor of Engineers Without Borders." She seemed a bit taken aback. "Wow... a very influential family you have!"

                                  He nodded. "Thank you, we're all very close, actually. My siblings are my number one supporters." "A family man! With your sister as the only one settled down. And what of yourself? You seem to share your brothers good looks and charm." He gave an 'aww, shucks' look before responding. "Actually right now I am engaged to a wonderful and very beautiful woman." There was a moment of tension in her smile before she let go. "Oh, and will she be joining the ranks of the world-saving Dosanjhs?" "Well she's a life-saver to me, a lead dancer with the New York Contemporary Dance Company." "Oh how wonderful... a dancer. Just like yourself, right? I believe annually you do a show one season?" "Yes, each summer I do a show with the Indian Classical Dance Company,"

                                  "That is wonderful! If I recall correctly, you have studied in India, right?" "Yes, I studied Mass Media and there and I've also studied Musical Theatre in London, Classical Art in Saudi Arabia, and art and music history in Germany and France. I'm hoping to expand my travels to more regions of the East." She seemed to be gazing at him. "Very impressive. Unfortunately that is all the time we have today, and I for one, cannot wait to watch your segment next week. You'll be discussing what for your opener?" "For the first, we'll just be talking about racism in America's classical music concert halls." 'And how do we get our fix of Isha Dosanjh until then?" He chuckled "Well, I have a blog that I update daily, about different shows or events going on, mostly in New York. I also do critics and reviews for the New Yorker occasionally, and I have a twitter." "You can find all of that information on the MSNBC site, thank you and have a good night from MSNBC."

                                  He stood up and shook her hand again before walking out of the studio. He breathed a sigh of relief before hearing her say off-air to one of the more... flamboyant journalists "Why do they always hire the ******** guys that are taken?" He smiled to himself. He flipped open his keyboard cell phone, an LG Rumor and updated his Twitter so that it said 'Glad to be on MSNBC. Tune in next week at 8PM EST ' and pocketed the phone. He adjusted himself when the small woman came up to him again to take off his mike. "You're so much taller than most of the other journalists! They average out around 5'9". How tall are you, Mr. Dosanjh?" "I believe 6'0" even or 6'1". I grew a bit my senior year of high school." She nodded approvingly. "Don't let Tina bother you. She's a bit high strung, hasn't been laid in awhile. Welcome to the team."

                                  Isha laughed and thanked her and was about to ask where the bathrooms where when he was blindsided by the producer. "There's my man! I just wanted to say that the approval ratings for your interview were through the roof and the polls online show that almost everyone wants to watch your show. You've impressed everyone, of course there are the few negative comments on the article but overall those are just the stupid people. People are shocked we have an East Indian segment host and feel as if you're bringing attention to a subject that frankly doesn't get enough attention. It doens't hurt that your brothers are currently on every high school and college girl's wall. I'll bet they'll be looking for your sister's pictures now. Anyways, you'll be a success. I feel it in my gut. No - no, in my bones."


                                  माहौल रंगीन और नशे की लत है
                                  फिर भी बेचैनी है
                                  क्यों दिल इतना पीटा करता है, इसलिए यह कहना है
                                  पागल प्रेमी पता नहीं है
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                                      It was tragic.

                                      Lucky De Silva sat at his desk rubbing his temples before sitting up straight. It was hard to believe that three students had just died. The staff meeting had lasted for hours, the moment the bodies had been discovered by his colleague they had been assembled, trying to figure out a plan of action before the students got wind of it. And the students did know shortly afterwards. They were trying to do damage control. And in De Silva's case, he was just trying to be there for the students. He breathed in and out, finding some sort of inner peace. Turmoil writhed beneath the surface but his job was to help the others, those younger than himself who probably had no idea what was going on.

                                      School was supposed to be a safe place. The students were supposed to feel protected, to feel as if they could continue their studies and not have to worry about anything other than the heavy coursework and if they were growing a pimple. Not... fellow students falling and killing themselves or whatnot. The small school was like a large group of his children and... three of them had just died. Pull yourself together, Lucky... He ran his hand through his short wavy hair, hoping he didn't look too much like a mess. Classes were canceled and the relatively young teacher was dressed in a collared shirt, blazer, and dark jeans with dress shoes. It fit him well at his impressive 6'3" height and solid 210 lb build. But the shoulders were slumped and it took him five more minutes to straighten out his back to his full height.

                                      Lucky De Silva was a sociable, well-liked person. And if anybody asked what they thought he'd be doing after he graduated from Cambridge, he couldn't think of anybody that would say he'd be teaching some of the world's brightest students at a remote, isolated academy in the farthest reaches of Scotland on the Orkney Islands where the water was more Norweigan than Scottish. And was cold. Always cold. He originally hailed from the sunny and warm land of Barcelona, Spain, where he'd made his name as the smartest young Mathmatician and budding Scientist. Everyone loved him. And the reason he'd taken this teaching gig at IDA was because they paid a completely ridiculous amount of money, and it seemed like a good thing to try before he moved on with the rest of his life.

                                      This was only his second year at the school. He didn't know how long he'd planned on staying, since there was not much to do other than teach or do studies of nature, and even then there was only so much. There were no romantic options since society was nonexistant except for once a month when they would take the students on a long train ride to the nearest big city where they could let off steam. Staying cooped up for an entire year would be too much for most of them. And it seemed like for at least one student, they'd had enough. Poor, poor Brooke... he thought. And then there was Kiersti and Rami as well. All of them bright young minds with infinite potential. Not everyone liked them but no one could argue their intelligence.

                                      He groaned and stood up, shaking himself out. Classes were canceled, and later that night was going to be the candlelight vigil at the chapel. But in the mean time, he walked over to his door and taped a sign that said EXTENDED OFFICE HOURS - FEEL FREE TO DROP IN onto his door. Students were always welcome to come talk to him. He knew that he was well-liked by the population and in their time of need he would be there for him. His classroom was minimalist, with sparks of bright paintings or posters to shake up the clean white walls that he liked so much. And of course, one potted plant that he kept on the desk. He sat back down, this time just leaning against the desk. He hoped that his classroom was a safe zone - an area that they could feel welcome. He looked around, spotting a stray textbook. He placed it onto the bookshelf before settling back down, hoping for some kind of distraction. I shouldn't have graded all those ppapers yesterday...
That's the "Evening Prayer".

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take.
If I should live to future days,
I pray Thee, Lord, to guide my ways. Amen.

"Hail Mary" goes like this.

Hail Mary, full of grace!
The Lord is with thee;
blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
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ईशा - सबसे युवा


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                                  Isha wondered how a family that had so many successful people could be so screwed up.

                                  He was at his sister's engagement party, sitting in the window seat of her husband-to-be's family's enormous brownstone in New York City. He was compeletely and utterly miserable, dressed in a rich green collared shirt rolled up to his elbows, tucked into straight-leg dark jeans that sat at his hips and dress shoes. His blazer was in a pile next to him and he wiggled his toes uncmofortably. He hated dress shoes. The room was full of celebratory East Indians of Punjab and Hindi heritage smearing yellow paste he couldn't remember the name of on his sister's face. Engineers, scientists, businessmen all reduced to a state of flushed faces and alcohol-stained breaths.

                                  He sat away from it, feeling more like an outside observer than a participant in any way. It was the six members of his immediate family, four cousins, two aunts, an uncle, the five members of the Singh family and then their extended family of grandparents and cousins and aunts and Uncles. Isha was the only teenager. The second youngest one was 22 year old Javed Singh, the younger brother of his sister's fiance. He was content sitting by himself, not drinking (no matter how much he wanted to) thinking about what a screwup he was. He had seriously ******** over with Jess and now he was miserable. He kept his head buried in his knees.

                                  "You alright?"

                                  A hand was on his shoulder and peeked out from over his arms. "Hi." It was Javed. The Punjab was an inch or so shorter than Isha and as skinny as a beanpole, which made Isha feel slightly better about his own lack of a muscular build. He had black hair and glasses and a complacent look with a generally quiet disposition. "That's not what I said but hello to you too. When a man looks like that there's one of two problems on his mind - Money or Women. And given the state of my brother and your sister's finances I'm guessing its women. Want to tell me what's going on? We are family now." Isha looked at him incredulously. And then he decided to just be out with it. Might as well what kind of ******** up person was lurking in the Dosanjh family.

                                  "Okay." He sat up, and Javed took a spot next to him. "There's this girl. I've liked her for a long time since I started tutoring her and she's always had a boyfriend who was this guy who was a total douchebag and a** to me throughout my school career. So it recently came about that she liked me too but she was still dating this guy Miles but then they weren't really dating because they liked each other, they were only dating for show and I didn't know this. So then I got into a fight with the guy, he's the Captain of the Football team and I gave him a black eye and a bloody nose and he said he wanted me and Jess - that's her - to be together. And so we started dating and we got into a fight before because she wouldn't be with me or even be friends in public but then we got over that and then everything was fine and dandy until later, when we got into a fight and I can't even really remember the reason why but I think it's because she might be going to school up here and we've never done a long-distance relationship."

                                  He paused to take a breath and let out a frustrated grow. "And now we're not talking and I have no idea what to do because I thoroughly screwed up." Javed stared at Isha mild-manneredly. "What school is she looking at around here?" Isha stared back at him for awhile before saying "Juilliard." He seemed impressed. "Very good. What does she do?" "Dance." "Do you think she'll get in?" "I know she will." Javed nodded. "Juilliard is a sister school to my Alma Mater." "You went Ivy League right? What school?" "Columbia University. Fu School of Engineering." Isha looked for a moment. "What should I do?" "Well, sounds like you really need to fix this. When will you be home?"

                                  Isha thought about it. "In five days. She won't be back until around then anyways... She's auditioning at Juilliard right now." Javed stared at him with an incredulous look. "So you're telling me she's in this city and you're sitting here moping about it. You're here at your sister's wonderful engagement party and I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so miserable at a celebration." So, he had a really good way of making Isha feel stupid. "... I guess so." "When's her audition?" Isha checked his watch. "An hour." Javed turned to where the mass of people were and in a surprisingly loud voice for the small, geeky-looking Indian, he said "PAVAN!!! WE'RE OUT OF WHISKEY, ISHA AND I ARE GOING TO GO OUT AND GET SOME." Isha looked with a rather expressionless face as Pavan's head poked out above the fray, smeared in yellow stuff. "OKAY."

                                  Javed stood up and motioned for Isha to do the same. He grabbed his blazer and followed him out to the garage where Javed grabbed car keys and opened it so Isha could get in. "There really isn't an excuse for you to stay in the house. Whenever I looked over at you it was kind of like seeing a crack-house in the middle of Microsoft Homes." Isha agreed and they sat in silence as his new favorite family member drove him into the heart of Manhattan, on Broadway where the school was located. Isha looked around at the sea of people and taxi cabs, wondering what the hell was going to happen, and checking the time every so often. He was getting more nervous, tugging at his collar. "Relax. I'm going to slow down, open the door, and jump out." Isha wasn't sure if Javed was joking or not.

                                  He wasn't.

                                  A slight scuff was all he endured and he stood up, brushing off his hands and saying to himself "Nobody saw that." In hindsight he should have at least gotten Javed's phone number but that was besides the point. He had no idea where he was supposed to go but he had ten minutes to figure out. [********] he panted, out of breath. "Where are you Jess?" His breath fogged in the cold and bitter air and the bottoms of his pants were ruined from the slush. He wasn't prepared for the cold. But he saw a stuck-up looking white girl with parents, and a number attached to her front. He ran up to her. "Do you know where the auditions are?" She looked ready to brush him off but he grabbed her arm. "I just need to wish my girlfriend good luck. I screwed up with her." She still brushed him off.

                                  "This never happens in the movies..." He rubbed his temples and looked up to the sky. "If you have ANY mercy at all, just show me where the ******** auditions are. I've been a good Hindu boy." He stood still for a moment, and upon realizing that he wasn't getting any help at all, he continued running until he saw a group of dancers leave a building. He ran into the hall, shivering and his feet soaked, until he saw the auditorium and a sign that said QUIET - AUDITION IN PROGRESS He let himself in, trying to keep his hard breathing in check. He was three minutes late and Jess was already on stage. He saw her stumble and his breath hitched. Come on... He physically hurt when she hit the ground and he resisted the urge to say something or run up.

                                  But she looked up and their eyes met and he tried to will her to get up. This is your everything, Jess. You can do this. And she did. She got up. And she finished the song. And it was absolutely amazing. He was captivated by her, as always. And then he smiled a sigh when they started clapping, letting his head hit the back. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath the entire time. "Good job..." he whispered, glad that he hadn't either completely missed the audition, or completely thrown off her concentration and ruined her career. It was worth the wet feet and the cold fingers and face and the being stranded in New York since he left his cell phone at his sister's place. He watched her carefully at the end, his shoulders relaxed in relief. He was eager to talk to her again - to put things to rights. To make up for being the a** that he was.


                                  माहौल रंगीन और नशे की लत है
                                  फिर भी बेचैनी है
                                  क्यों दिल इतना पीटा करता है, इसलिए यह कहना है
                                  पागल प्रेमी पता नहीं है
25 Random Facts
Posted on Isha's MSNBC Profile page


        1. Even though I am East Indian, my background within the subcontinent is Tamil and Bengali with a smattering of Gujarati.
        2. My favorite contemporary artists include AR Rahman, Sonu Nigam, M.I.A., Fort Minor, and Black Eyed Peas.
        3. My favorite Classical composers are Bernstein, Shostakovich, and Beethoven.
        4. The best ballet in my opinion is Petrouchka.
        5. The best musical in my opinion is Sweeney Todd.
        6. I have two older brothers who are Pro Football (soccer) players, and a Cancer Researcher for a sister.
        7. Bubblegum flavored anything tastes like despair.
        8. I own two pairs of tights. I look good in them.
        9. Dress shoes are extremely uncomfortable - I have only one pair.
        10. My senior year of high school I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I still don't.
        11. In high school I was the geek.
        12. My fiance was the head cheerleader. Who says nice guys can't win?
        13. Samuel Adams is my favorite beer while Smirnoff is the best liquor.
        14. Last year for Halloween I was the Moor from Petrouchka. Guess who the ballet dancer was.
        15. I am a practicing Hindu.
        16. Scarves can be manly. Or at least I hope so because I like wearing them.
        17. I speak Hindi and English fluently, with broken sentences of French and Tamil in there.
        18. I'd like to learn Arabic.
        19. The first song I ever learned the dance steps to was Aaj Ki Raat from Amitabh Bachchan's Don at 8 years old.
        20. Once I got off on the wrong train stop and was lost in the slums of Mumbai. I was only five.
        21. I was in my high school's Glee club.
        22. My favorite color is green.
        23. My best friend is a guy I hated throughout my entire school career until halfway through my junior year.
        24. I play sitar. I learned because I really liked Moulin Rouge.
        25. My favorite movie is... Little Miss Sunshine.
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                                        "Lord, I thank you for the day. I thank you for every breath I draw and I only ask that you give safe passage to the poor souls of Rami, Brooke, and Kiersti. May your eternal grace allow for their spot among your glory and a spot in Heaven through the sacrifice of your Son, Jesus Christ, our teacher and savior. Amen."

                                        Dorothy Ann Thomas, mostly known as Dory by the majority of her classmates and her family, straightened herself out, breathing in and out as she opened her eyes, feeling the mental calm that always accompanied her after a prayer. She then got up and finished getting dressed for the day. Classes were canceled so she didn't need to wear her uniform. It was uncommonly cold so she put on a pair of tights, and then the only pair of jeans she had, in a lighter wash and a straight leg. Nothing too form fitting. She then put on a simple white camisole and a blue button-up flannel shirt to keep her warm. It wasn't as feminine as she would have liked but it kept her cozy instead of cold in the frigid elements. She wondered if the heater wasn't working.

                                        She felt terrible for the dead students - any good Christian would. It was an auspicious start to the school year and left her with a sense of unease. She looked up at her wall where she had one of her numerous crosses nailed, a comfort in her crisp and clean room. She didn't have a room that was heavily decorated. She had clean white sheets with a yellow comforter and bare walls, with only the neccessary decorations on her desk to keep it from being completely impersonal. Her bed was made and there was only a slight dent on it from where she had sat there praying. She smoothed that part out, carefully. She looked at herself in the mirror, her mane-like hair, and smoothed it down, pulling it up and off of her neck into a neat bun.

                                        Her rosary hung around her neck, the dark reddish brown standing out against the cool blue of her shirt. She wore no makeup, her distinct features standing out all on their own. Her eyes shone brightly with the unshed tears for her classmates. She would save her tears. What they needed was strength given to them through her through her Lord and her Savior. She was strong and humble - because Pride was the original sin. But self-negation was also a sin, something she strove to be careful about. She was always trying to be a better person. She was far from perfect but she tried everyday to live by the 10 Commandments. Including the one that seemed to be forgotten most - Love thy Neighbor. There was no way that Brooke or Kiersti could be considered the best of people but Dory had always overlooked that.

                                        Dory's roommate was fast asleep. And as the young Welsh girl left the room she was careful to close the door as quietly as possible. The only sin as bad as pretending to be more than one is is the sin of convicting others of ungodliness... She never wanted to do that. Never wanted to be the convictor. And whenever she found herself casting judgments, she tried to remember. We are called here to witness, not to judge. To witness. No one can judge except the Lord. And that thought warmed her. Nothing was in her control, everything was up to Him and all she could do was live by His laws. Although Him wasn't even a He, if all things were considered. Sure He's the Father of us all but... I'd like to think He could be a She... She grinned. One of the small things in life that made her happy, even in the light of such tragic circumstances.

                                        She made her way to the chapel. Sure, she had said a prayer the moment that she'd woken up and before she'd eaten breakfast but now she wanted to do it in the sanctuary of a church. It felt more formal. She walked across the grounds and when she entered, she dabbed her hand in the holy water like any good Catholic and made the sign of the cross. It was a beautiful chapel - it wasn't a warm one. But it was good enough for her. The tall, imposing cieling seemed to stare down in judgment but she knelt anyways, her knees against the hardwood floors as she bowed her head, hands clasped upwards. She remained still for a long time, eyes closed in silent prayer. And when she was done and she opened her eyes, the world seemed brighter.

                                        Dory could never be said as the most insightful person. She wasn't a strong personality and she was often described as 'intense and quiet'. She didn't have a large grasp of difficult otherworldly concepts. Physics was a foreign language and Math was something that only made her life more difficult. But she was true, and nobody could say otherwise on that matter. She never forced her beliefs on others and strove not to be judgmental, her favorite scripture being 1 Timothy 4:10. She stood up, brushing her knees off, lines formed on them from where they'd weighed against the floor. She went to the cafeteria next, deciding now would be a good time for breakfast, since she had paid her dues to the deceased and the Lord. She kissed her cross and walked back across the grounds to the ornate cafeteria where they were serving a brunch. She grabbed hash browns and sausage with a large glass of orange juice, sitting down and distracting herself from the recent loss of the school by reviewing homework from the previous day, shivering as she felt another breeze.
                          If Julian wasn't completely out of his mind by means of illegally obtained percocet, then going to the football game would have been downright torture. But seeing as he was completely stoned and out of his head, his train of thought had been as follows; Dude... I should go do something. There's a bunch of people at the school... I heard there was booze... And then he left to go to the stadium. He went straight from work so he was dressed in a black wife beater and old jeans that were ripped and distressed, held up with a belt. Both were dirty and he had a black bandanna around his forehead. He didn't care that he wasn't wearing any school colors and looked like s**t. Mostly because he wasn't caring much about anything.

                          After driving and cutting off a few people and parking the semi-stolen car in the school parking lot, he got out and headed to where the student body was assembled. He managed to find his way to the bleachers, occasionally stopping to waver slightly on his feet as his vision tunnelled, staring at some far-off nonexistent item. He sat down and stared at the field, not really taking in anything. That was the way he liked it. Being removed. Being out of his head and not really experiencing anything around him, just kind of looking at it and being an observer. He sat there, snatching a drink from someone who wasn't watching and slurping on it noisily, looking at the football players. "I should be on that ******** field..." He bit on the nails of his left hand while in his right hand he folded over and over again the most recent letter from his sister.

                                Hey Julian!

                                I can't tell you how amazed I am... You shouldn't have done that. I mean it, you really shouldn't. You should absolutely not be sending me checks for over a grand. That must have been your entire month's worth of pay! But since I know you won't take it back, it'll go towards my new violin. You're the best big brother in the world. Please say you'll come to my recital? It's coming up in a few weeks and since you pay for half of my lessons (another thing you really shouldn't do), it'd be amazing if you'd show up. I'm playing this really cool piece called Tzigane. It means Gypsy and it's composed by this French dude and I think you'd really like it. Oh! And I got into National Honor Society! I'm really excited. I'm getting inducted pretty soon. I heard colleges like that.

                                Speaking of college, that's what you should save your money for, Julian. Put it away in savings and then you can go to Community College, get some sort of degree. Come on, you have to look out for yourself! Take some classes, you could get a automechanic certification. You're so good with cars, you got my little piece of junk working in time for my sixteenth birthday! Maybe you could open up a garage? Enough about that (for now). Anyways, I'm so sorry that they're trying to get a restraining order against you... it just sucks. I really wanna see you soon. I miss you a lot... come to my recital. And no you will not help me pay for youth symphony or all-state orchestra. Use the money for something else... and not for those you-know-whats. I know all about that, and it's really not a good idea Julian. I love you too much. I hope to hear from you soon, and maybe we can hang out...

                                With all my love,
                                Rosa.


                          He already had the letter memorized.

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