A Personality

At first glance, she seems shy. Barely 5 feet tall, with red hair, her brown eyes are dark, guarded. A slim face, a delicate dusting of freckles over her nose, and a slim body. When she moves, lean muscles are evident, and she moves with the grace of a dancer. She is quiet when she speaks, but her smile flickers occasionally, a promise of something more.
Her sharp mind and quicker tongue surprise you, but you rise to the challenge, only to find that she twists anything you say. Another girl comes up, similar in appearance, and grins. They are clearly sisters.
"You'll never win against her," she tells you. The first girl grins in return, lightning fast, and you blink, not sure if you actually saw it.
"Don't tell them that!" she complains, pushing her sister. "You ruin the fun!"
The younger girl only runs off, then she turns back to you. You are intrigued, and want to get to know her better.

"Who are you?" you ask, sitting down with her. She glances at you, biting her lip slightly, and flushes, telling you her name. You nod. "It's pretty," you said, liking it. It was unusual, to say in the least. You try it out, only for her to laugh, and correct you.
"Sorry," you mumble, but she waves it off.
"No, it happens all the time," she assures you. "I'm used to it."
You talk more, and you are amazed at her wide range of interests. She rides, dances, and races cars with her parents. She sews, knits, reads, writes, draws, and trains dogs. Her school subjects are as varied as her interests, as she does biology, chemistry, ancient history, advanced english, maths, dance and automotive. You blink at her, amazed.
"And what did you want to do after school?" you ask again, sure you heard wrong.
She laughs. "A vet, or zoovet," she replies.
You just stare at her, and she blushes, looking away. "I know," she says quietly. "It's weird."
You shake your head. "No, it's great!" you say hastily. "You have such a wide range."
She smiles, and then it changes to a mischievous grin. You eye her warily, cautious of what she might be planning.

Time passes, and you get to know each other rather well. You trust her enough to share what you want, knowing that she won't spill the beans. To the best of your knowledge, she has never lied to hurt you, only to protect you, and you don't mind. She in turn tells you her secrets, and you are amazed. You know that she would never tell anyone that sort of information.

"Hey." You greet her, and she turns to look at you, grinning in welcome.
"Hey," she replies. "How are you?"
You incline your head, iffy. "Alright." You sit down with her, wondering what she's doing. "What're you doing?"
She shrugs, and moves over so you can sit. "Stuff. Writing, really. Writer's block at the moment." She shakes her head, frowning at the book in front of her. You look at it, curious.
To your surprise, it is covered in handwriting, and you look at her. "You write it all out?"
She nods, absently massaging her hand. "Yeah," she said, a little distantly. You can tell she's thinking. "It's easier for me. Then I type it up."

"How long have you been writing?" you ask, wanting to know. You didn't realise this was what she meant when she said that she wrote. She glances up, flashing you a smile.
"This one? Nearly two years, now," she says. "But others, not so long. It depends." She shrugs. "Nowhere near finished, though. I don't know how authors can write a book in a year. It's so complicated."
"What is it about?"
She grins, but you can see that she's trying to work out how to answer. "Well...it's basically a man's life, until he dies," she says, almost cagily. You can't work out why, but you nod, not pressing her. Everyone deserves their secrets.