Dear Harper Green,

June 23, 2016

I'm in the same boat with you. Same rules. Same guidelines. It does kinda suck, having to spend our summer doing this, instead of you know, not. As you did in fact give me a question to answer, I may as well answer.

If I had one million dollars, I'd probably build my town a better theater. Ours is falling apart, leaning to one side, and dangerous. We were supposed to put on a play, but the city deemed our theater unsafe so it was cancelled. It sucked. I wasn't a lead or anything, but it was still fun. It wouldn't be a big theater or anything, no, probably smallish with a small orchestra pit in case our city does a musical.

Even if that's just a dream it does sound nice.

Anyway, you told me about yourself, I should return the favor.

I'm Poppy Lynn, and I'm 17. I love to write in my journal, which I have named David, and I love my dance class. I'm a ballerina, not on pointe yet, but soon. I used to play soccer, but my school's team was full of people who hate me, so I opted out of that. My favorite color is lavender, like the flower. I like to run, don't judge me, and I wake up early on Wednesdays to run around my neighborhood. Weirdo right? I don't mind that status.

A story about me?

Well, once I had to babysit some kids, but they hated me. They some how managed to lock me in a closet for an hour, and one ran down the block in nothing but underwear. They kept throwing things around the house, they dunked me with a water balloon. I was fuming. And when I came home, my mom asked me why my hair was white.

Turns out, the water balloon wasn't water. It was white paint. I had been too busy trying not to strangle the kids, I hadn't checked. I had just assumed they had used water. I never babysat for them again.

I spent hours in the shower trying to get the paint out, and it was my aunt's birthday dinner the next day. Nine showers and an entire shampoo bottle later, it was all gone. Or so I thought. I still had a white streak, like Anna from frozen, on the back of my head. When my cousin, Ryder, pointed it out, I nearly died. We were having dinner in the nicest restaurant in town. And I looked like I had bird poop in my hair.

So as you gave me a question, I find it only fair to give you one.

You're trapped on an island with one person from your favorite musical. Who and why?

My letters will also become longer later. For now though, this will do.

Sincerely,

Poppy Lynn