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Lɪғᴇ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ. Lɪғᴇ ɪs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ.

[img]http://www.pictureshoster.com/files/5u986rvrq4eyjlmncp8e.png[/img]

[b]Nickname:[/b] [i]Isa.[/i]

[b]Gender:[/b] [i]Female.[/i]

[b]Age:[/b] [i]16.[/i]

[b]Grade:[/b] [i]Senior.[/i]

[b]Clique:[/b] [i]She swings between the artsy kids and very rarely the jocks.[/i]

[b]Crush:[/b] [i]TBD.[/i]

[b]Relationship Status:[/b] [i]Single.[/i]

[b]Hobbies/Interests:[/b] [i]Art. Photography. Volleyball.[/i] 

[b]Personality:[/b] [i]Feisty. Creative. Open Minded. Sarcastic. Humorous. Loyal.[/i]

[b]History:[/b] [i]"When you grow up Isabella, what do you want to be?" The question came across her mother's lips like any concerned parent. "A turtle." the young girl replied, her big, bright eyes gleaming with joy. "You can't be a turtle Isabella, that is impossible." her mother discouraged, shaking her head. "Nothing is impossible. I'm going to be a turtle" Isa replied, determined to show her mother what life was really about.

Fast forward 10 years, 5 schools, 8 homes, and 7 stepfathers later, Isabella had not become a turtle, but she did escape her shell. Growing up Isabella was an easy going kid, her father hadn't been in her life much but he seemed like an okay guy when he was around. Her mother had always been there, working hard, trying to do what seemed like the best for herself, and sometimes Isabella. The constant moving wasn't very helpful for the young girl's growth, but hey- if it pays the bills, it pays the bills. 

Isa found refuge in her artwork, drawing, photography, painting, the works. 

It was in her art she could be anything, she could create anything. 

On the eve of her 17th birthday her mother announced she had fallen in love once again, and that they were to be moving, as to be closer to the man's work. "Great." Isabella spat out, packing up her belongings once again. "Isabella, I promise this will be the last time. I promise." her mother assured her, her petite frame barely taking up the door way of Isa's empty room. "Mmmhmm." she mumbled. It was the last time every time. 

Isa fit into Northlane with out too bad of a transitioning period. She is a relatively friendly and easy going girl, and despite the common issue of transferring your senior year in high school she didn't have a too hard of a time fitting right in. Volleyball practice had run a little late that afternoon, and due to mouthing off to one of the coaches Isabella had to run a few more extra laps in the gym as well as clean up the poles, netting, and the various balls strewn around the gym. "Damn it." she huffed under her breath, she just wanted to get home! [/i]

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