+ name: Callisto Jones
+ age: 16
+ birthday / astrological sign: April 16th / Aeries
+ likes: pink, pearls, reading, dancing, singing, playing piano, iced tea, nail polish, champagne, salt and vinegar chips, blonde hair.
+ dislikes: crowds, abstract paintings, trucks, tall buildings, computers, red lipstick, clubs, monopoly
+ appearance: graceful, dancer type, petite, with spindly arms and legs and a strong torso. Dirty blonde hair which is usually worn up, and ice blue/grey eyes. Small and sharp facial features.
+ height: 5'3
+ weight: 96lbs
+ style: floral, pink, lace, generally short, summer dresses, stockings, sandals, clogs, leather jackets, cardigans, singlets, pastel colours, beanies, scarves, jewellery, acid wash jeans, patterned leggings.
+ personality: Callisto could be described as timid to some. She had a sheltered, small-town upbringing, and is slightly religious, meaning that she is in touch with her spiritual side. She is friendly and always up for a good time, but she is not very daring. To some, she can appear stuck-up, but this is really because of her sarcastic nature, and a lot of people don't understand her humour. Most people that meet her like her instantly, as she is the perfect mixture between sweet and snarky, she follows the rules, but isn't afraid to have a good time.
+ bio: Callisto was raised in a small village in West Maryland, and attended the local church hall dance school up until she was eleven years old. When she was 12, she was offered a scholarship at Abby's a ballet school just out of Washinton DC. So she packed her bags and moved into a nice little workers cottage just down the street from the school. She now attends the local public school in the town. She enjoys the country life, and isn't one for the big city crowds. She loves to play the piano and dance, and one day hopes to either become a famous composer or choreographer. She also adores writing. She has a tabby cat named Zebra, and decorates her house inspired by the things she sees in magazines. She generally gets on with most of the girls at the dancing school, and enjoys hanging out with them and her school friends on the weekends. She is working to make it to the top in the ballet world, and get her name out there.
Angus Jones, 43
Callisto's father is generally a kind man, and was very supportive of her pursuing her dreams in the dancing world, although often he worries whether the stress and rejection of the industry will take its toll on her.
Margaret Jones, 38
Brought up in a small town in England, Margaret was at first apprehensive about moving to America, but in time found that she rather liked it. She got married when she was only 20, and they have lived in the small sleepy Maryland town ever since.
Frigg Jones, 14
Callisto's younger sister, the two have always been close, and Frigg is hoping to follow in her sister's footsteps in regard to her dance career. Frigg's dream in life is to become a professional ballerina and perform in the London ballet.
+ past / current relationships:
She had a brief summer fling with Thomas Spence when she went for a beach holiday in South England to visit her mother's family. The two broke thing off after she went back to America and the two converse sometimes and are now friends.
+ model: Nimue Smit
+ taken by: @qmattie
The thirty-first fouetté was usually the toughest. I was working on perfecting it, but usually after I got that one right, I could go on forever, fifty… eighty, whatever seemed necessary.
Once my sister and I had had a competition. We were to do as many perfect fouettés as possible, and the person who won would get the first scoop of the new lemon gélato mum had bought for desert. We had gotten all dressed up in our performance gear: shoes, leotard, tights, everything. Frigg had been ten then, I had been twelve.
I had gone first: twenty in a row, which had been quite an achievement for me at the time. Alexandra from dancing would be impressed, and I knew my sister would never beat me, it would be guaranteed.
And then it had been Frigg's turn. She had gotten up on her toes, positioning herself in imitation to me, and then began. They had been sloppy, unsteady, and her right foot was spinning the wrong way. She had paused after her fifth turn, taking a quick breath, and then starting up again.
'Thirty-one!' she had finally announced to me, after a good five minutes.
'Five, break - eight, break - seven, break - five, break - six, break' I had muttered under my breath, "Frigg you're doing them wrong…"
"You're just jealous!" She had spat, running inside and crying to mum.
"Frigg did more than you Cal, she gets the first scoop. That was the agreement" Mum had finally put her foot down, ignoring my protests.
It had been an outrage, and that night I had sat out by the back hedge and cried in frustration. As if Frigg could do more than me, I was destined for ballet school in New York, whilst she was just a pathetic little girl who was only in it for the pink shoes.
I had vowed that I would do a hundred one day, and I would show Frigg how to do them properly. Maybe then I would get first scoop.
I finish up on my fortieth. The small group of girls standing by the bar clap politely, and I do a comical bow, grinning at Hannah, my best friend.
"I can't believe how you got a scholarship to Abby's" Hannah says to me, as we walk down the narrow, run-down corridor of Christ of the Saint Church. It was the place that I have been doing ballet classes for over a decade, and nothing has ever been done to fix up the crumbling old church. I kind of liked it in a way though.
I giggle, nudging her slightly, "You should have tried out, you would have gotten in for sure."
She puts her hands up, laughing, "Yeah right, I am nowhere near as good as you. Besides, mum and dad would never let me leave home and go to the city."
I shrug, I was lucky, mum and dad had been pretty accommodating when I had told them the news, it was good for independence, was what mum had said, and it was true. I would be living by myself, getting my own food, washing my own laundry. It would be liked being an adult.
The distinct ring of the dingy old bell at the front of Marigold's ice-cream parlour interrupts me, and Hannah goes rushing over to the counter, inspecting what was out for offer today.
"I'll get a small honeycomb won't I," she says to the fat woman at the counter, pointing to the flavour she has decided upon.
I slowly walk up closer to her, and she looks at me. "Which one'll you get?"
I consider the selection for a moment. This is probably the last time I'll be at this place before I leave for D.C. on Thursday morning.
"I'll get one scoop of lemon gélato please." I say to the woman, as she heaves herself forward, putting the scoop and the majority of her arm into the deep tray.
I pay for the ice-cream, and then Hannah and I leave the store, continuing down the main street of our town.
"I'm going to miss you so much when you're gone." Hannah complains, as we stop at the traffic lights to walk.
I consider the town for a moment, looking down the road to where the church is, my high school and elementary school, and then the other direction, where Samuel's Diner, the place where I had my fifteenth birthday celebration at, or the large white department store at the end of the street where Hannah and I had bought our prom dresses that I would never wear.
"Yeah," I say frowning, "Me too."