name; parker darcy
likes; success, pianos, her sister, standing out, ambition, popularity, high heels, ballet flats, cardigans, classic literature, the color pink, heirloom jewelry, tradition, perfection, ivy league schools
dislikes; rude people, obnoxious people, drinking, drugs, cigarettes, bad boys, dirtiness, creases in clothing, people who say her name is a boy’s name
signature item; “p” necklace
bio; when parker found out that her parents had enrolled her and her twin sister, charlotte, at waverly academy she was thrilled. parker is a social climber by design, she’s a perfectionist and needs to succeed in everything she does. she’s got the grades down, and she’s a young piano virtuoso. her next plan is to make it to the top of the popularity ladder. with her classically good looks and all the money behind her name she’s almost a shoe-in, but, she’s not much of a party girl. she prefers gala openings and dinner parties to raves and ragers. but being at waverly might just change all that. the waverly perfect friends and boyfriend she’s looking for don’t exist, instead she finds herself in a sea of drama and scandal. she might have all the credentials, but this goodie-goodie’s going to have to loosen up if she wants to get anywhere with the elite owls.
looks; lindsay ellingson
"Miss Darcy, would you play us a piece on the piano?" A tall red-haired man asked me. I smiled, and elegantly walked to the large, grand oak piano that rested on the yacht. It was right by the railings, where you could feel the sea's waves sing to you as you played. Resting my fingers upon the keys, I played Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu. Everybody stopped and paused to listen. I didn't mind them. Just keep playing, Parker; a voice arose in my head.
I stopped. Everybody clapped. Suddenly, life felt wonderful and useful again. Beautiful people, holding glass cocktails were commenting on how grand my music was. My mother and father looked at me, with proud faces. They brought me up to compete and to show-off, and I had pleased them today. Success has always been crucial for me. Life hadn't been easy. My father, William Darcy, a strict, world-renowned lawyer, had recently had a long, two-year affair with one of his co-workers, a younger, twenty-two-year-old secretary, Jessica. My mother, Scarlet, was a French heiress. She parted ways with my father a long time ago. She’d be filing divorce papers soon. But so far, this week had been the best of the worst. It was as if joy had been a duex ex machine out of a theater of hell.
Last week, mother had announced to Charlotte (my free, laid-back twin) and me that we’d be attending a fancy, prestigious boarding school in New York, Waverly Academy. I jumped for joy once I heard about the news. Currently, I was attending St. Mary’s, a mediocre prep school in Boston, Massachusetts. I toured the dormitories, and I had finally felt as if I belonged.
I bowed. Charlotte laughed at me, in a joking way. She handed me a pink, strawberry cocktail. I looked at it with a feeble glance and sipped on it daintily. I looked out at the sea, decorated with the horizon of a lit-up Boston. I felt the sea winds on my bare shoulders.
“That was a wonderful piece,” A voice said behind me.
“Thanks,” I said, not bothering to look back.
“So you’ll be going to Waverly Academy next week, eh?”
“Yes,” I said.
“In New York . . .”
I turned around. It was Jessica. That bIch. My voice started sounding sharper and more defiant. Although, I knew that I should have kept a sweet voice, like the goodie-goodie girl I was. Jessica was wearing a YSL sequin dress, definitely bought with Daddy’s credit cards. She smirked a bit. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to be nice or mean to me. She definitely wanted to sidetrack me. She wanted Charlotte and me out of her sight.
I love AP calculus. I found myself in a room with older students. I couldn’t resist but to calculate faster than the others in a lighting speed. I knew that I needed to know more than the others. I skipped a few math grades in St. Mary’s. The older kids glared at me. They seemed like they wanted to shake me down, shake me till I wringed out the answers for them to crack open and use. I ignored them for a while. They were mostly girls.
I raised my hand again, pointing out an easier, faster conjecture to use.
The teacher smiled at me with his coffee-stained teeth. “Yes, Parker, we can do it that way too. You’re very insightful.”
When class was over, I walked gracefully out. So far, my first day had been good. Nobody hated me—yet. Next class: lunch.
Waverly Commons. I saw Charlotte already making friends. She waved at me.
“Hello everyone,” I said, very politely. “My name is Parker Darcy.” Charlotte’s friends examined me. They gave each other silly, strange glances. Suddenly, I felt as if they didn’t like me. They had bed hair and short skirts. The boys were gorgeous and preppy, but I didn’t think they were very gentlemanly and nice. They were definitely the popular crew. I felt a bit awkward, standing there. Those girls were the same girls in my Calculus class, mean and condescending.
I decided to sneak a trip to the rest room. The girl’s rest room was a marble room, with rose-scented salts. I examined myself in the mirror, to make sure I didn’t look strange. My long, blonde, perfectly polished and straight hair had a headband neatly placed on it, like Alice in Wonderland. Sure, my skirt only reached my thighs, but I didn’t want to seem like a bad girl. And plus, my blazer had been fitted by a tailor and my shoes were Lanvin.
I bought a sandwich and a fruit smoothie and searched for a seat. I found one among these intellectual students, definitely seniors. They were conversing about a new theory.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around.” A joint-smelling boy said to me. He was definitely older than me. He seemed like those intelligent, philosophical guys. His pulse seemed to yearn and sometimes decrease. I couldn’t plot it on a coordinate plane.
“I’m a new student. My name is Parker Darcy. You?” I said, smiling at him.
“Alan St. Girand.”
“PARKER!!” Charlotte looked at me. “Come on!”
I arched my eyebrow. “Excuse me, Charlotte? I was having a conversation with Alan.” I said.
Charlotte murmured something under her breath. Then, she tugged on my wrist and sat me down on her table, with her friends. “He’s a creep, if you didn’t know that.” A brunette girl said to me, frowning. I didn’t know why everybody didn’t see the good side of him. Everybody looked at me with contempt, cautious eyes. It drove me batty. Finally, the bell rang. AP French. Finally, something wonderful in this misery.