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Her father had been so disappointed that Crystal Academy had turned her down. It just seemed that Yvette was destined to not be at an exclusive school such as Crystal. She was dressed in a relatively mild outfit that was moss green with pink flowers decorating it and waiting for her next placement exam. If she was destined to go to some fancy college, she might have been concerned enough to do some last minute studying. Yet the quiet girl knew she was going to be stuck at a local community college at best thanks to her family's financial situation. There was no real need to study to try to get into a higher level class. So rather then frantically cram, she sat in her chair quietly, hands folded in her lap. Her deep purple eyes had been gazing at her own toes while she waited, but they glanced up as the girl spoke about pies.

In an attempt to seem polite, yet good humored, she giggled quietly, yet in a fashion that nearly sounded like a rodent before saying in her naturally quiet voice "As long as there are no strawberries, they should all be fine." Yvette was a girl who appreciated her baked goods, but she was 100% serious about the strawberries. It was yet another instance where she would have needed her Epipen. Regardless of how serious the strawberries issue was, she offered a smile and held out her right hand for a handshake.

"Oh no... I've been in Destiny City all my life... I was actually just came from the 'Barren Pines' incident." Her eyes took a good look at the girl for a moment. "I know we didn't talk much, but your name was Tara if I recall correctly? I'm Yvette Weaver."

"If there were strawberries, I wouldn't be able to finish the test," she offered. "I left my epipen at home, and I'd need it in that case." Her hand, despite being the offered one, was so gentle upon shaking out a greeting, that Tara might not have noticed the girl had even touched her at all. When she took her hand back, she nodded her head.

"It is nice to see you, Tara. My Mommy said I had a talent for remembering faces and names."

1) Yes, Yvette still called her mother "Mommy," and on a similar note, also called her father "Daddy."
2) Yvette was 18 years old.

Some habits were just hard to break, even at the "mature" age of 18 years.

The girl was about to ask the usual meet and greet sorts of things you would normally toss into a conversation as this when a rather strange question popped up. It easily caught the girl by surprise. Her tiny mouth fell slack, gaping open into a small "O" shape. Her eyes grew wide, and almost scared in a sense.

Her voice seemed to vanish for a few awkwardly long moments. Slowly, she attempted to move her mouth to say something, but no voice seemed to be coming out of her mouth. When her voice was finally located, her question would probably more accurately express her confusion: "I don't know what you mean? I... I mean... um... I remember the people... b-b-but... I don't... I don't really remember... what specifically happened..." Her voice dwindled off and her eyes redirected themselves to looking to the floor tiles, as if she was trying to apologize in her own shy little way.

As the other dark-haired girl attempted to make a point, Yvette shyly began to look up towards her. There was still a hint of fear in her expressive purple eyes, and who could blame her? She had been asked if she was dead, and then this girl was now pointing out how the school had manipulated them into thinking things that weren't true. Her mind simply began to blame herself for falling for what seemed like an obvious case of "brainwashing." Then again, Yvette was a weak girl, she knew that it would be easy for her to fall for such things. How could I have fallen for it so easily? she mentally scolded herself. It was easy enough to see her problems were her own fault, or at least she was convinced of such.

It seemed as if there was a voice drought going on for the girl, but eventually she managed to offer in a defeated fashion "I-it's okay..." There wasn't much else she could say, or that she could think of saying at least. A sort of awkward silence eventually surrounded the two, and Yvette, being the nervous child (or rather, adult) she was, began to fidget with her fingers, literally poking both of her pointer fingers together.

Yvette was a quiet girl. Anyone who argued otherwise was obviously horribly wrong. She hadn't exactly been spouting out loads of information before, but at the mention of trying to remember anything abnormal, she looked down to her fingers, and seemed to go into a more thoughtful quiet rather than a mere shy quiet. There was a difference. Her expression didn't seem nearly as weighed down from fear, but instead seemed neutral.

"...th-there is one thing that I remember... I think..." she offered. In her tiny voice, she confessed "It m-might not be what you are looking for though... I only find it weird because I can't remember everything about it."

Her deep purple eyes glanced back to Tara, seeming to silently ask "Do you still want to hear it?" Yvette's fingers trailed to her chair's seat and began to nervously clutch onto the edges. She really didn't want to seem rude, but there were some bad nervous habits you just couldn't get rid of. She offered a smile, but it was quite tiny in comparison to her current companion's.

The shy girl took in a deep breath. Then another. Then another still. Her cheeks were starting to glow of a rosy color as she did this, which was somewhat ironic, since she was trying to calm herself down with those deep breaths. All she seemed to be doing was working herself up instead.

On the final deep breath, she then told Tara her "unusual" memory. "See... I actually remember everything up to this point pretty well, but then this memory is only partial at best. I don't think this is something too important... but..."

Her voice hushed for a moment, since she once again thought this over and realized it still wasn't really super important. She looked to her companion in a shy fashion, but found this girl's gaze to be too intent upon listening to the full story.

"I think s-somebody asked me to prom. I... I just don't remember who..." She buttoned her lip after that confession and looked shyly to Tara again. Tara wouldn't understand how weird that was for Yvette. Yvette had never been asked to a social function, strictly because she was so shy, and people tended to skip past her since she was practically invisible when in a crowd. Her father probably would have never helped either with the situation, but she honestly had never had the chance to really push those buttons yet.

With her eyes moving from the girl's face to the floor, she answered honestly "I doubt anybody else would ask me. I'm a senior, and that was the first time anyone asked me to anything." Somewhere in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but note that this year was her last chance to experience that infamous thing called a "school dance." She kicked her left leg a little bit, casually attempting to get out some of that nervous energy. Her little anklet climbed her leg slightly before falling back to its rightful resting place.

"It would be nice to at least go to one school dance..." she said thoughtfully before once again lifting her eyes from the floor to Tara's face. "And my Daddy couldn't get upset if it was just a bunch of girls..." Her voice paused before she asked "There aren't any boys in the group, are there? I don't want to subject anyone to my Daddy if I can avoid it..." She laughed slightly, but it was obviously one of those nervous energy laughs, almost hinting how worried she'd be over a boy meeting her father.

She managed to catch the last question, and rather easily managed to chirp out "I will be taking advanced art, since they don't really have any sewing classes that are to my level." She wasn't trying to brag at all, but it was just the flat out truth. Yvette was beyond the level of any of the Home Ec classes offered, so taking them would be pretty pointless.

The physical contact caused Yvette to tense up quite a bit, and her cheeks once again burned as the blood seemed to rush to her face. Her voice was quite flustered as she sputtered out "Uh... um... uhm... th-th-thank you... I think..."

It wasn't very comforting to not know if there would be boys in the group, strictly because her Daddy had a sledgehammer. A sledgehammer he wasn't really afraid of using. The label of "overprotective dad" earned itself a nod, but the girl managed to squeak out a more accurate label of "You have no idea..." It seriously took just knowing Mr. Weaver for five minutes to realize that words could not do him justice.

Just as her cheeks were finally starting to pale again, Tara's whistle once again caused them to turn a scarlet color. She nodded her head quietly and for a moment let go of her chair (which she had been gripping onto the whole time) to point to her moss green top. Her tone was overly modest (and quiet, but this was Yvette, it always was quiet with her) as she explained "This is a bit old, but I designed and sewed this all by myself a while back." She hushed again, somehow knowing that it wasn't a really impressive "gift."