HARPER, Griffin Reed

[GRIFFIN REED HARPER]

moved to pending.

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LWSqSNpIToc/TYZTxT60WjI/AAAAAAAAAUg/kX0kRj5ZB6k/BlackWood.jpg); width: 437px; padding-top: 30; padding-bottom: 30;] THE GRIFFIN REED HARPER EDITION SEVENTEEN - JUNIOR - BAND GEEKS - JESSE McCARTNEY "HELLO THERE. I'M SO GLAD YOU MADE IT HERE TODAY, BUT I'VE SEEM TO FORGOTTEN WHAT YOUR NAME WAS, IT WAS PAT... OR SOMETHING, RIGHT? NO, WELL, WHY DON'T YOU TELL ME IT THEN? FIRST, MIDDLE AND LAST, PLEASE. OH, AND PLEASE DO TELL ME ANY SCRUMPTIOUS NICKNAMES." Harper glanced around in a somewhat uninterested fashion, only half-catching the words of the school interviewer. He eventually tore his gaze away from the drab walls of the small room, blue-grey eyes finding a resting point on the pinched, teenaged face presented before him. He cleared his throat, arms folding casually across his chest. Did he look like a Pat to this poor creature? The elfish smile came easily to his lips, however. This could be fun. "Harper. Griffin Reed Harper. Most people call me Harper." Harper explained, biting his lower lip. "I HAVE TO SAY, THAT'S QUITE A NAME YOU GOT THERE. I DON'T THINK I'VE HEARD IT BEFORE. TELL ME, HAVE YOU ALWAYS LIVED IN PORTLAND OR HAVE YOU COME FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE?" Apparently, the interviewer was a little on the sheltered side, which was odd considering her occupation. Then again, Harper's name wasn't exactly the most popular, but he couldn't see how she couldn't have heard it before. Did she just say that as a standard filler-statement with everyone she interviewed? Lame, for a freshman. He listened to her question, intense, yet muted-in-color eyes focused on hers. "I used to live in Salem, but when my parents divorced I moved here with my dad." He replied, shoulders shrugging carefully. "OH, I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE. HERE, LET'S LIGHTEN UP THE TOPIC A LITTLE BIT. OUT OF ALL OF THE WORDS IN THE WORLD, WHICH FIVE DESCRIBE YOU BEST AND WHY?" Did he really look uncomfortable? Time to loosen up, he supposed. Harper shrugged indifferently, flashing a charming smile at the girl. He listened intently, before shrugging, and speaking. "Well...my dad calls me FOCUSED. He would describe me as an extremely determined guy who wants to get things done, and do them well. I suppose that's what comes from being in the music field. I like to make sure my performances are the best they can be, and I love my music." He paused, but she didn't answer. Apparently, she wouldn't settle for just one trait; time to dig a little deeper. "I am a pretty COMPETITIVE person, too. I don't really like seeing anyone do better than me, but I wouldn't resort to, like, malicious things to get ahead. I understand when I'm beaten, but that doesn't keep me from trying harder. I like to win, I hate to lose; but I know how to keep my head and my heart either way." Harper continued, words falling from his mouth more easily now that he was getting comfortable with talking. "OPINIONATED is another good word to describe me, too, I guess. I know exactly what I like or don't like about things, and I have my ideas as to how things should, or shouldn't, be. I suppose this makes me pretty closed-minded, too, to be honest. I don't like it when other people challenge my beliefs and opinions, but I'm not afraid to defend them." Harper slowly continued, brow flickering over his handsome eyes slightly. He drew in a deep breath, rolling his right shoulder slightly. He winked at the interviewer. "Not to brag, but I'm a THOUGHTFUL guy, too. While I hold my own opinions, I'm not afraid to step down a bit to make sure my friends are okay. I don't appreciate it when other people insult them, either." "Last one..." Harper's gaze averted thoughtfully to his shoes briefly before flashing back up to the interviewer. "Um...SARCASTIC is a good one, to be honest. I have a pretty good sense of humor but...as my best friend says...I have a tongue that's much too sharp for my good. I often make remarks that really should be kept to myself, I guess." He finished, drawing in a deep breath with a slight glitter of mischievousness in his eyes. This was actually kind of fun. "I'M NOT GOING TO LIE. YOU SEEM LIKE QUITE THE CATCH. I'M SURE YOU'RE ALWAYS BUSY, HUH? DO YOU LIKE WATCHING TELEVISION OR KNITTING? WHY DON'T YOU TELL US A LITTLE BIT ABOUT YOURSELF?" Flirtatious comments like that were not uncommon for Harper, but it was a little awkward receiving a remark like that from a freshman. She had no idea what she was talking about. "I'm not...exactly...big on either of those. But, I do like to keep busy. I can't stand not doing things, but I'm most often practicing the trumpet. I also know a little about playing the guitar. I used to play the piano, and I really don't want to forget how to play it so I practice occasionally. I really want to learn how to play the saxaphone, too...and I sing." He finished with a relaxed grin. In fact, he was almost always singing, typically under his breath. But she didn't need to know that. "Besides my music, I...well..." Harper racked his brain...what DID he like to do besides playing his instrument? He alighted on something, and glanced back up at her. "I like reading...alot. Kind of nerdyish, I know, but I do. I mostly like mysteries." "YOU SOUND PRETTY FEARLESS, BUT THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING YOU'RE AFRAID OF. ANY JUICY SECRETS?" Harper shifted his weight to one side of his chair, reaching up to rub the back of his neck with one hand before replacing it. Did he really sound that fearless? If he'd made it through the interview thus far without cracking, he had to. "Um...not really." Harper glanced down at his feet, flashing his eyes slightly in faint exasperation. God, he hated reporters. "I'm not a virgin." He stated flatly, before throwing a sharp, glittering stare at the freshman. That was the best he had, and he didn't care to elaborate. Yet, anyways. "DON'T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY, BUT ARE YOU GAY? I MEAN, IT WASN'T SOMETHING YOU SAID OR ANYTHING. I'M JUST A CURIOUS OLD BADGER. UM. WHAT DO YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE? IS THAT BETTER? I GUESS YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER IF YOU DON'T WANT TO." A perfectly audible, unbidden snort puffed from Harper's throat, and his typical devilish half-smile tipped up a corner of his lips. "I get that alot...I think it's the hair." He waved his hand lazily at his mop of blond hair, which contained underlying hints of dusky brown. "But no, I'm not. Straight as a flute, as we musicians might say." He bit his lip musingly, head lolling back slightly to look up at the ceiling. "What do I find attractive," He repeated slowly, as though considering the words. "Depends. I'm a sucker for red hair...true red, not that maroon-ish dyed type. I like long hair in contrast to short hair, and I love green eyes. Freckles are cute, and I'm not very partial to girls who wear lots of make-up." Harper mused leisurely. "I'm not against the slutty girls, necessarily, but I'm tentative to relationships with them. They'll cheat on you." He added, his opinionated nature popping out briefly. "I do look at personality, though looks play a huge part for me. I'm not big on the obnoxious girls who try to draw attention to themselves however they can, nor the girls who pick everyone else's bones clean without looking at themselves first. Though I suppose that's human nature. I like girls with spirit and spunk, and who have a brain between their ears." Harper finished decidedly, tipping his head back forward and checking his watch casually...he had band practice in about half an hour. "ALRIGHT, ENOUGH WITH THE HEAVY STUFF. LET'S TALK ABOUT... MUSIC. I THINK YOU MENTIONED SOMETHING ABOUT POP OR HIP HOP EARLIER. WHAT KIND OF MUSIC DO YOU LIKE? RAP, COUNTRY, JAZZ? WHAT ARE YOUR TOP FIVE MOST PLAYED SONGS ON ITUNES?" Harper's intense eyes focused on the skinny freshman presented before him, not flickering once from her gaze. His smile lengthened slightly...this, he could really talk about. "Girl, you have no idea." He drawled softly, drawing out the words "girl" and "no" extensively. "They don't call me a band geek for nothing, believe me. I don't recall saying anything about...pop, or hip-hop. I honestly don't care what I'm listening to, but I do like jazz quite a bit. Country isn't my favorite, mostly because I suck at singing it, but it'll do occasionally." Harper explained. "I love songs with a good drum beat to them, as well as good guitar parts...saxaphone is always a plus, too, but it's rare in most genres. My favorite music groups include...but are certainly not limited to...Bon Jovi, Van Halen, U2, 3 Doors Down, and Dire Straits. Yeah, lots of the older music artists. Oh, I also really like Queen and the Scorpions, too. Skillet is cool, not exactly my type, but interesting enough. Makes you think about things. Switchfoot is a good one, but it's not at the top of my list. Honestly, I like just about anything." Harper shrugged his shoulders. "As for my favorite songs...gosh. There're so many." He became somewhat quiet and serious, shifting his weight slightly. "I forgot to mention Chicago...I really like them. 'You're the Inspiration' was my mom's favorite song, and I have a soft spot for it. 'Wind of Change' by the Scorpions...'Beautiful Day' by U2...'Dreams' by Van Halen...'Living on a Prayer' by Bon Jovi...oh, and 'Kryptonite' by 3 Doors Down. There's lots more, believe me." Harper finished, managing a smile. "LISTENING TO MUSIC LIKE THAT? YOU'RE SURE TO BE A STAR IN THE NEAR FUTURE. YOU SEEM LIKE A WELL-ROUNDED YOUNG PERSON, MY DEAR. WHERE DO YOU FIND YOURSELF TO BE IN FIVE YEARS FROM NOW?" Harper stared at the freshman with an expression akin to amusement, a chuckle rising softly in his throat. "My dear"...that was a good one. As for a well-rounded person, she was hardly old enough to make a statement like that, but he didn't care to pursue the matter. Let her have fun. "That's the idea." He grinned, straight, white teeth flashing charmingly. "I wouldn't know, I'm not there yet. But. I expect I'll probably be a musician of some sort. I always thought it'd be really neat to start a modern-type jazz band. I expect I'll be rich, famous, and married...to a green-eyed redhead." He winked playfully. "IF IT MEANS ANYTHING, I'LL BE ROOTING FOR YOU WHEN THE TIME COMES. I'M SURE YOUR PARENTS WILL TOO. SPEAKING OF YOUR PARENTS, WHY DON'T YOU TELL US THEIR NAMES AND WHAT YOU THINK OF THEM! DO YOU HAVE ANY SIBLINGS, PETS, OTHER RELATIVES?" "Well, thank you...the more fans, the better." Harper remarked, an amused chuckle slipping between his teeth...yet it faded abruptly as the mention of his parents came around. He stared with a solemn face at the girl as she finished her question. He didn't really want to talk about his parents, or his siblings. But then...perhaps it would be okay to get them out, just so long as they weren't spread around the school. Who was he kidding, though? "My parents." He repeated slowly, clearing his throat. "Well, my dad's name is Jackson Harper. He's a manager at the West Wing autobody shop. He's the reason I understand mechanics and stuff so well...he always beat it into the ground that I was good at it like he was." Harper shook his head slightly, eyes growing somewhat distant as they focused on some unknown point behind the freshman's head. "He's a bastard." He said flatly. "Need I say more?" "My mom, though...I love my mom." A half-smile, somewhat watery, curled his lips. "Fern Harper. She's a little person, thin, with curly brown hair - but she's the prettiest woman in the world. She has eyes the color of the ocean...lots of freckles." Harper laughed softly, as though recalling his mother's face. "She loves to wear dresses...anything fancy, really, but she can't afford it anymore now that...that my dad divorced her. She's the principal at Salem Junior High, and the kids there love her." Harper remarked softly, but firmly. "My dad was the one who left her. They just fought a lot...he was temperamental. Mom tried to keep things together, for our...me and my siblings...sake, but it wasn't any use. He filed for a divorce." He bitterly said. "I have two siblings. There's my little sister, Sarah. She's ten years old, and lives with my mom in Salem. She looks just like my dad." Harper remarked, rather regretfully. "She's a spitfire, and she loves animals. And playing in the woods...I taught her everything she knows." He laughed softly, shaking his head and grinning in spite of himself. "Then," Harper ceased laughing, a sigh shifting his chest. "Then, there is...was...my younger brother, Carl. He looked like my mom. He was fourteen when he died, of stomach cancer." He murmured, propping his face in his hand. "He was an easy-going kid, quiet, but friendly. He shouldn't have died." Harper finished bitterly. "Pets? Um..." He weakly repeated, and brushed his hair out of his face, suddenly quite tired-looking. "No pets. I feed this stray shepherd dog that comes around my dad's house occasionally, but no real pets." Harper shrugged, glad to be off the topic of his family. "OH, I SEE. WELL, WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME. WHY DON'T WE WRAP THIS UP WITH YOUR STORY? HOW DID YOU END UP IN PORTLAND, OREGON?" Gee, already? Well, that was a bummer. Harper straightened in his chair, attempting to bring back his smile. The episode about talking about his family had wrecked his attitude, however. "Well, like I said, my dad divorced my mom. When I was fourteen, just before my freshman year of highschool began. We moved to Portland into this apartment - cute, I'll grant you - and we would have bought a house, but my dad was rarely ever home. Is, rarely ever home. He never was much of a family guy. Back in Salem, it was usually just me, Sarah, Carl, and mom. We lived in a woodsy area, so it wasn't really uncommon to see me running around with Sarah and Carl. Barefoot." He chuckled softly at the memories. "We usually played 'spies', and Sarah was usually the miniature villain. Carl couldn't run much because of his cancer, so he was usually the overlord of the good guys. I ran between them. I always made them laugh." Harper smiled fondly. "I got into school, becoming more and more involved especially with music. Carl and Sarah didn't say anything, but I could always tell they were sad I was so involved. I felt kind of guilty, but I couldn't let go of my future-in-the-making, so to speak. I visited with them whenever I could. Sarah and I were the only ones who ever fought, Carl was the peacemaker. I was really mad when my dad filed for a divorce when I was thirteen. They divorced and my dad moved with me to Portland...I didn't even have a say in where I was going to go." Harper growled softly, clenching his fingers together tightly. "Carl died last year. I was sixteen. The doctors called us, saying he was. I was really upset and crying...I begged my dad to take me, and he took his fucking sweet time getting there. Carl died just before we arrived at the hospital, in my mother's arms. Sarah was there watching, and she hasn't been the same ever since." He muttered. "But yeah. Ever since we moved, I hardly ever got to see my mom and the guys...Sarah and Carl. I saw them at holidays, and that was about it." "Anyways...my dad sucked. He was and is hardly ever home, but whenever he is I can always see what a stiff jerk he is. I can't believe my mom ever married him. He hates jokes and fun things, and he always tells me to shut up when I'm playing my instruments. I never do." Harper remarked, with some sense of satisfaction. "When he's home, that is. Oftentimes I'm already in bed by the time he comes home. He was never much of an influence, but I suppose I'm just as opinionated as he is. Anyway, school. Right. When I first got here, I was the new kid. The fresh meat for the dogs to fight over...dogs, meaning the royals, mostly. A few of the cheerleaders liked to flirt with me a lot, but after I joined the band everyone saw what a geek I was. For a while, I hovered in the joker category, but in my sophomore year I became referred to as 'Harper, a.k.a. band geek'. And proud of it, I'll have you know. I started playing the piano when I was eight, quit when I was twelve, messed around with guitar for a while when I won ten free lessons at a school event, and took up the trumpet when I was thirteen." "I took a few girls on dates, none really memorable. Except Karen." Harper's eyes grew somewhat foggy, and he smirked softly. Karen...she'd been his soft spot. "Karen...she was my girlfriend for about four months towards the end of my sophomore year, but we broke up when she started hanging out with a jock." Harper shrugged indifferently. He was quite over her, though he figured always hold a soft spot for Karen. "Karen moved." He admitted. "We don't really talk anymore...I wanted to remain friends, but she thought it'd make her new boyfriend jealous." "And, I can't forget my best friend, Maggie. We're really close. We've known each other since we were ten." A strangely soft smile slipped across his lips. "We know everything about each other." Harper said simply, shrugging lightly. There wasn't any way he could put into words his relationship with Maggie. "And...I think that's about it, so...yeah, the story of my life." Harper spread his arms wide, that reckless smile curling his lips. "Any questions? Comments?" ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE Havana slid onto the bench, placing her tray on the table and dropping her bag and sweater between her legs on the ground. Humming softly, she popped open her milk carton and raised it to her lips, instinctively dropping her napkin onto her lap - and paused mid-sip, as a rather nervous teenager set his tray just across from hers. Her wide, hazel eyes were fixed on his as he mumbled apologetic words. She broke from her haze, pursing her lips to remove any milk from them, and nodded, setting down her carton. He was...honestly...the cutest guy she'd probably ever seen. Was he? Havy shyly peered at his face for a quick moment, and decided he was. She raised her napkin to her mouth, wiping it carefully. He looked to be about seventeen or so, and she couldn't recall seeing him before. She might have made a joke about him coming to sit at the table, such as pretending it was just hers or whatever, but he seemed too nervous to notice. Better to keep it simple for now. "Oh, go ahead, I don't mind." Havana glanced down at her tray quickly, considering touching one of the less-than-appetizing fries, before raising her eyes to look at him again. He was tall, with golden-blond hair and weary, anxious blue eyes. He had an athletic build, tall, with broad shoulders, and a handsome face. In Havy's opinion, it was rare to find a guy who was both blond and hot...so perhaps this was her lucky day. Wait, why was she thinking like that? "Hi, I'm Havana." She carefully introduced herself, holding out her hand across the table instinctively for him to shake. Best way to get to know someone was to start with saying "hi". "I'm new here, so I don't know anyone, really. I'm afraid I don't recognize you...what's your name?" Havana inquired, with a small, unknowingly rather charming smile. Perhaps her flirty side, if she had one, was coming out. MISTLETOE, ONE YEAR (app.), RPG DIRECTORY, PICTURE PERFECT

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