<strong>Name/True Identity: Megara/ Megan "Meg" De Luca</strong><div class="floatright">(http://i1186.photobucket.com/albums/z371/CamberRaine/Megara_zps170c1fc5.jpg) (http://s1186.photobucket.com/user/CamberRaine/media/Megara_zps170c1fc5.jpg.html)</div><br/><strong>Location: Field <br/>Doing: Pictures<br/>Tagging: Isabella (mentioned), Abe (mentioned)</strong><br/><br/>Meg's morning had started off a tad more smoothly than yesterday's. She had gone up to the journalism room to grab a camera after she dressed in a long navy maxi dress, before making her way back down to the field. They needed pictures for the cover page, and as usual, Megan was without plans. So she was volunteered, unwillingly, she might add.<em>I'm getting this shit done today if it's the death of me. I fucking hate astroturf. I fucking hate cheerleaders. I fucking hate screaming.</em>A hand came to run through her waist length mahogany locks as she arrived at the edge of the field.<br/><br/>Yesterday she would've interviewed Abe, however, he had no interest in talking to her and that was perfectly fine. If he wanted to go solve his high school drama and not talk to her it just meant less social interaction for Meg. It was slightly interesting to watch him grovel, though. Isabella seemed to forgive him for whatever his infraction was and that made Meg roll her eyes. Today she would have to pick up her slack from yesterday though, because apparently Ms. Masters couldn't find another fucking interviewer. Meg made her way to sit down near where she knew the cheerleaders would be practicing later today, snapping a few shots of the field as she went.