The Boy In Suite 121 (Watty Awards 2013)

Chapter One: Meeting Mr.121

Boarding School.

Never thought those two words would come out my mouth. I can't exactly say I'm surprised though. I was kind of badass. Not the tattoo having, drinking, smoking, druggie, gang banger, kind of a badass. But, more if an I-do-what-I-want kind of badass. Talking back, missing curfew, sneaking out of the house, that was my thing. It wasn't like I was doing bad things, sometimes I'd just walk around the local park and lose track of time. I know I'm not the perfect daughter, but boarding school?

How about home school? Or even military academy? Or boot camp? Those seemed like the proper repercussions to my wild child behavior. Sending me to boarding school was ridiculous. If anything, it was encouraging me to continue my behavior. Sending me off to a co-ed boarding school with guys and not having adults checking with me every time I left was fine by me.

Actually, I lied. I'd give almost anything to have a choice in this, to choose differently. But, as always Chelsey Hastings never had a choice. It was always: do this, do that, do what I asked you to, don't ask questions. It's a wonder why I stopped listening to my parents when I turned sixteen. And that made me a bad kid. Despite the fact I'd had straight A's my whole life, never touched drugs or alcohol, and was still a virgin, I was a bad kid. What real sense did that make?

Thinking back on my actions, I know what made me a bad kid. Instead of becoming a cheerleader, I played soccer. I didn't cheer for football, I watched hockey. I didn't marry the first guy I dated. I just wasn't the all-American teenager they were when they were my age. And because of some "bad choices" my life "spiraled" out of control and now, I'm in boarding school across the country. My mom should have gone to boarding school the way boys ran trains on her.

Talk about effed up logic.

I sit back in my uncomfortable leather seat that seemed to scream ‘Look at what we can afford!’ as I turn my iPod on and hit shuffle. My dad climbs in the front seat with the driver while my mother settles next to me. She tries to make conversation, but I didn’t want to hear it. I was done with her speeches for the day. Her description of St. Anna’s on the near six-hour flight was enough for me. My dad also made an attempt to talk to me, but gave up rather quickly when I didn't respond. Until they gave me a concrete reason for sending me to boarding school, I had a concrete reason for not speaking to them. 

I pulled my cherry red laptop from my bag and turned it on, hoping that something on here would keep me busy for the next two hours. If I looked unoccupied even for a second, my mother would take that as an opportunity to spark up a conversation. I’d spent six hours listening to her, making that a whopping eight was not going to help my mood. If I had any chances of getting out of this, I had to at least be civil. If I lost my temper and freaked out, I’d be staying in boarding school for sure. 

A second after signing in, a message popped up my screen. I looked at the good-looking blonde boy on my screen and sighed with tightness in my chest.

Keeeeegan: Hey. Can we talk?

C.Hastings: Hey. How about no?

Keeeeegan: C’mon Chels, just you remember the good times and talk to me?

Keeeeegan: Please?

C.Hastings: Why would I want to talk to you?

Keeeeegan: To hear my apology? To let me explain? Anything?

C.Hastings: I’m listening.

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Big Greg: Hey beautiful (;