Post by Smarty Jones on Apr 23, 2009 21:32:29 GMT -5
Full Name: Mildred Ashby
Nickname: Smarty Jones
Age: 17
History: Harvey and Vivian Ashby had six sons before they were blessed with a daughter. But the blessing was overshadowed by Vivian's growing frailty, and she died before her baby girl was even a few weeks old. Harvey was devastated, but did not forget his duty as a father. The hearty man was nonetheless hesitant. The family was lower-class and less than dignified. How could he possibly raise a daughter to be a lady? He knew nothing about women's mannerisms, aside from those he saw in his wife. So, in lieu of knowing how to raise a daughter, Harvey Ashby ended up raising a son.
As Mildred grew, she was treated by her brothers as just another one of them: they fought, hit, and played with her just the same, and she learned to take it and dish it back out, just like the rest of them. As she grew, obvious differences arose and had to be explained by Harvey, who stammered through things and turned beet red when he happened on a subject that he either knew nothing about, or else he knew would be so much clearer had Vivian been around to explain it. At one point, he awkwardly asked a the mother of three girls next door to explain to Millie what he could not. The mother laughed for a good long while, before shaking her head and leading Millie into the main room, still chuckling to herself.
Despite this, Millie was raised like a boy, and she knew of no other way. She was twelve years old before she would wear a dress instead of a shirt and trousers. Her brothers knew what would persuade her, and challenged her to a ball game, but teased her that she couldn't possibly win in a dress. "If I can beat you in pants, boy," Millie said fiercely, "I can beat you in a skirt!" And she did. But her arrogant remark earned her the pet name "Smarty Jones". Soon, her brothers were calling her that all the time. Millie liked it better, anyway: her own name made her think of a little farm girl in a bonnet with wildflowers.
As Smarty Jones matured, even in a dress she acted like a boy: she walked with long strides and a swagger, her hair disheveled, her posture poor. When she turned fifteen, her father started looking around the county for a husband for her, but everyone he went to turned her away: "My son's looking for a wife," they would say, "not a husband..." Smarty couldn't care less, but her father was upset by it. He lamented on how he wished he could have raised a girl, instead of treating her like a boy all her life. Smarty rolled her eyes. "Too late for that now, Papa," she said. "Now I know I'm a girl and all, and you can put me in all the dresses you want. But I'll be damned if you can get me to act like a lady."
Two months later, the oldest of Smarty's brothers, Warren, announced that he was going to New York City to look for work. Immediately upon hearing this, Smarty begged him to take her along. He consented, and she, Warren, and their brother Neville took off for the big city. Smarty loved the bustling lifestyle where you had to yell to make your voice heard and push to get where you needed to be. Warren and Neville found in short order that they were fighting a losing battle trying to keep their little sister reigned in. A year later, Neville caught a venereal disease from a girl he was seeing, and died within months. Warren wanted to head back to the family in Delaware, but Smarty wouldn't go. After hours upon hours of fighting with her, Warren left her in the city, knowing that she could take care of herself and also knowing he was possibly the worst brother on earth.
He didn't know that Smarty couldn't have loved him more for leaving her. She took to the streets and fell into the rough-and-tumble life of the Brooklyn newsies. She was so boyish in demeanor that many of the Brooklyn newsies didn't even consider her a girl. She is an endless supply of insults, cheek, and scandal, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She fights dirty and is a sore loser.
Hair Color: Brown
Hair Style: Medium-length, unkempt
Eye Color: Brown
Skin Color: Average
Clothing Style: Smarty sold her dress and bought boys' clothes: more functional and overall more comfortable. She wears brown trousers, and a white shirt with a green-and-yellow vest, and no shoes or socks. Her hair is always down; she hates bothering with it, and to hell with those wannabe tough girls who stuff it up in their hats. She doesn't even own a hat...
Items owned: Nothing. Got a problem with that?
Troubles: Smarty's main trouble is, everyone thinks that she has troubles except her. Her carefree life seems dangerous to some, but to her it's nothing to fret about, and nothing to be changed. Everyone tells her she's headed for some kind of terrible fall, but she insists over and over that if she ever falls she'll be getting right back up again. In addition, people seem to think it a tragedy that she has publically and adamantly refused to be married to or be romantically involved with anyone. And if you think you're about to change her mind...fat chance.
Fears: Nothing irrational. Smarty's the one telling everyone else to get over themselves when they're afraid of something.
Nickname: Smarty Jones
Age: 17
History: Harvey and Vivian Ashby had six sons before they were blessed with a daughter. But the blessing was overshadowed by Vivian's growing frailty, and she died before her baby girl was even a few weeks old. Harvey was devastated, but did not forget his duty as a father. The hearty man was nonetheless hesitant. The family was lower-class and less than dignified. How could he possibly raise a daughter to be a lady? He knew nothing about women's mannerisms, aside from those he saw in his wife. So, in lieu of knowing how to raise a daughter, Harvey Ashby ended up raising a son.
As Mildred grew, she was treated by her brothers as just another one of them: they fought, hit, and played with her just the same, and she learned to take it and dish it back out, just like the rest of them. As she grew, obvious differences arose and had to be explained by Harvey, who stammered through things and turned beet red when he happened on a subject that he either knew nothing about, or else he knew would be so much clearer had Vivian been around to explain it. At one point, he awkwardly asked a the mother of three girls next door to explain to Millie what he could not. The mother laughed for a good long while, before shaking her head and leading Millie into the main room, still chuckling to herself.
Despite this, Millie was raised like a boy, and she knew of no other way. She was twelve years old before she would wear a dress instead of a shirt and trousers. Her brothers knew what would persuade her, and challenged her to a ball game, but teased her that she couldn't possibly win in a dress. "If I can beat you in pants, boy," Millie said fiercely, "I can beat you in a skirt!" And she did. But her arrogant remark earned her the pet name "Smarty Jones". Soon, her brothers were calling her that all the time. Millie liked it better, anyway: her own name made her think of a little farm girl in a bonnet with wildflowers.
As Smarty Jones matured, even in a dress she acted like a boy: she walked with long strides and a swagger, her hair disheveled, her posture poor. When she turned fifteen, her father started looking around the county for a husband for her, but everyone he went to turned her away: "My son's looking for a wife," they would say, "not a husband..." Smarty couldn't care less, but her father was upset by it. He lamented on how he wished he could have raised a girl, instead of treating her like a boy all her life. Smarty rolled her eyes. "Too late for that now, Papa," she said. "Now I know I'm a girl and all, and you can put me in all the dresses you want. But I'll be damned if you can get me to act like a lady."
Two months later, the oldest of Smarty's brothers, Warren, announced that he was going to New York City to look for work. Immediately upon hearing this, Smarty begged him to take her along. He consented, and she, Warren, and their brother Neville took off for the big city. Smarty loved the bustling lifestyle where you had to yell to make your voice heard and push to get where you needed to be. Warren and Neville found in short order that they were fighting a losing battle trying to keep their little sister reigned in. A year later, Neville caught a venereal disease from a girl he was seeing, and died within months. Warren wanted to head back to the family in Delaware, but Smarty wouldn't go. After hours upon hours of fighting with her, Warren left her in the city, knowing that she could take care of herself and also knowing he was possibly the worst brother on earth.
He didn't know that Smarty couldn't have loved him more for leaving her. She took to the streets and fell into the rough-and-tumble life of the Brooklyn newsies. She was so boyish in demeanor that many of the Brooklyn newsies didn't even consider her a girl. She is an endless supply of insults, cheek, and scandal, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She fights dirty and is a sore loser.
Hair Color: Brown
Hair Style: Medium-length, unkempt
Eye Color: Brown
Skin Color: Average
Clothing Style: Smarty sold her dress and bought boys' clothes: more functional and overall more comfortable. She wears brown trousers, and a white shirt with a green-and-yellow vest, and no shoes or socks. Her hair is always down; she hates bothering with it, and to hell with those wannabe tough girls who stuff it up in their hats. She doesn't even own a hat...
Items owned: Nothing. Got a problem with that?
Troubles: Smarty's main trouble is, everyone thinks that she has troubles except her. Her carefree life seems dangerous to some, but to her it's nothing to fret about, and nothing to be changed. Everyone tells her she's headed for some kind of terrible fall, but she insists over and over that if she ever falls she'll be getting right back up again. In addition, people seem to think it a tragedy that she has publically and adamantly refused to be married to or be romantically involved with anyone. And if you think you're about to change her mind...fat chance.
Fears: Nothing irrational. Smarty's the one telling everyone else to get over themselves when they're afraid of something.
