b@carleton.edu

Full Name:	*from a top bunk, a lightly-freckled face appears, a few strands of dark brown hair disentangling themselves from the ponytail at the back of the young woman's neck and falling in front of her face* Flash McAllen, leadah a' the Harlem newsgoils. *an easy smirk falls across her face and she pushes the loose hair back with one hand, tucking it with an annoyed roll of her eyes behind her ears as she slips off the side of her bunk and takes a seat on the one below it, which belongs to Blue Skies Costello* Born Charlotte Mae McAllen. My brothah called me Charlie. *looks somewhat disinterested in the entire topic of conversation here* Anyhow, it's Flash. Ain't nobody calls me Charlotte an' gets away wit' it. Well, wit'in reason.
Age:	Seventeen since April. Gonna be eighteen soon enough. An' y'know somethin', people still won't listen t'me. No mattah how old I am. When I got grey hair an' wrinkles 'dey'll still be callin' me McAllen an' rollin' their eyes at me. I sweah... *shakes her head in somewhat exaggerated dismay, poking at Skies' pillow with the fingertips of one hand*
Appearance:	*shakes her head rapidly enough that her shoulder-length, stick-straight brown hair in its ponytail swishes back and forth behind her* Got brown hair an' brown eyes. *blinks a moment, short dark lashes framing nearly black irises in thinly-lidded, somewhat smallish eyes* Medium-height, I guess, somethin' like 5'4". *shrugs a little* Nothin' else much to say. Got freckles an' a temper. *leaves the subject with a little smirky grin; Flash is often flushed with some sort of passionate opinion on one subject or another (either that or sunburn), and built slightly stockily*
Background:	*raises one thin, dark eyebrow as if to ensure she understands what you're referring to, then nods a bit* Started off in Midtown, in some little apartment. Don't remember it much, don't remember my mothah at all, but I know a little about it. Even though I nevah knew my mothah, Jordan did, an' for me back 'den, 'dat woiked just as well. Jordan's my brothah. All 'dat time in Midtown I practically woishipped 'im. Smart, tall, intelligent...all 'dat stuff. For a while, yah couldn't get us apart no mattah how hard yah tried. He's 'da one always called me Charlie Mae, which I didn't like much but I ended up kinda not hatin' it 'er nothin'. Anyways, aftah a while, our fathah got 'imself intah some trouble wit' 'da law. Ain't sure if he's in prison or if he skipped out 'scapin', but he ain't around. Jordan started woikin' makin' glass bottles in a fact'ry an' 'e set me up sellin' papes in Midtown. *traces obscure patterns on the wooden frame of the bed with her fingertips* We stuck tahgetha for yeahs...fightin' and forcin' everythin' tah woik out. But then 'e turned twen'y an' met a goin, an'... I s'pose he didn't have no time for me anymore. *shrugs noncommittally, leaning back a bit* I kept sellin' papes but nothin' much mattahed wit'out Jordan. 'Dat was pretty much 'da low point in my life. Yah know what I mean? But then I met up wit' Skies--I knew 'er brothah before that, Chance, or 'e knew me or somethin'. From Midtown. Yah know what I mean...he knew a' me an' I met Skies an' we jus' got along so well, yah know? An' yeah. We got tahgethah an' went tah live in the Harlem newsboys lodgin' house ovah in East Harlem. *inhales deeply* Aftah that, there were the territory wars an' there was Ruse an' Cassandra... *narrows her eyes slightly* Latah, aftah Cassandra died of natural causes *her forehead wrinkles slightly, her lips turning downward in a frown*, Skies an' I ended up takin' leadahship a' Harlem. We were kinda like 'er lackies b'fore she...died. Yeah. Whatevah happened. *flips her ponytail over her shoulder absently*
Relationships:	Well, a' course my best friend's Blue Skies Costello. She and I are togethah so much that if yah see us apart yah may as well call the bulls, 'cause the othah one musta been kidnapped or killed. *bounces up and down, listening to the bed creak beneath her* 'Dis is Skies' bunk. She can't sleep on top *points with one hand* 'cause she's 'fraid a' heights. *snorts amusedly* Anyhow Callahan, 'er boyfriend, 'e's pretty all right, I guess. He's got a clear head on 'is shouldahs. Fair kid, good leadah...nice guy. Intelligent. *pauses, considering the question further* An' I love all a' me goils; Bradshaw keeps Skies an' I in line whenevah ouah minds start tah drift from the point, an' then 'dat Bay is jus' a great kid--sweet, smart, an' she's real...what's the word? *looks at you* Nah, not little...'course she's little, but that ain't what I wanna say...*shrugs* Aw, whatevah. Anyway, I love all the girls heah. Harlem's the most wondahful place in New Yawk an' I'll defend it till my dyin' day.
Other notes:	*shrugs one final time, her freckled face displaying obvious boredom with sitting in one place for so long* Harlem's my place; I love it heah. We's wondahful an' noplace else in New Yawk dares tah hold a candle tah us. At least not in my presence. *grins widely* An' we's even got a fight song! All about denial and guilt. Who wouldn't wanna live heah? *shakes her head, laughing quietly* Why d'yah think I love Harlem so much? *jumps up and goes to the window, peering out over the fire escape and Harlem*