Name: Mathilda Lando Age: 16 Birth date: Nov. 1st Height: 5'3" Weight: 106 lbs
Likes: Cars, jogging, the Internet, chemistry, dancing, banter, big black boots, guns, grape soda, hard lemonade, swimming, computers
Dislikes: Judgemental assholes, yuppies, lipstick, obeying traffic laws, light beer, most cops, essays that ask unnecessarily personal questions
Habits: Smoking, gesturing wildly and accidentally hitting people in the face, fidgeting, derailing conversations
Hobbies: Auto repair, drinking, embarrassing friends, being cheerful, flirting with strangers, livejournal
Clubs and Organizations: DECA, R.O.M.A (you're better off not asking what that is), cheerleading
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Mathilda is from New York, originally, and probably will let you know this within the first fifteen minutes of meeting her. She moved to Middle Area with her foster mother, Christine, and her 10-year-old foster sister, Rayanne not long ago, and wasn't very happy about it, but she's adjusting okay. Mostly. Her actual biological family is deceased, which doesn't seem to bother her very much. She will freely admit to a stay in juvenile hall, and she has a slightly unsettling interest in and knowledge of handguns, rifles, and knife-fighting, but claims her trouble-making days are over. She's probably lying.
Cheerful, brazen, and something of a wild-child infamous for her crazy all-night parties, she's finally beginning to settle a little bit in Middle Area -- which doesn't mean she's any less audacious, mind you, but the wrecking ball in girl form is starting to lose her destructive momentum. Maybe it's the boyfriend, the best friends, the fact that Middle Area's a total hellhole, or (most likely) the dawning realization that her foster mom will seriously ground her until her 18th birthday if she doesn't shape up. She's got a lot to live for, including the past. No sense in fucking it all up beyond repair.
The world'll do that for you.
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