Unfinished Stories

Ryan Stone

Ryan Stone

"Go on, Ryan." my father said, giving me a little push. "Introduce yourself. Go on, have fun." he handed me my gigantic suitcase and gave me a quick hug. "See ya at Thanksgiving."

"Do you have to go now?" I asked. My father laughed.

"Ry, you know the deal. I can't just leave you at home while I'm working on the movie."

"You've done it before."

"But this is a huge deal. I'm going to be gone for weeks at a time. You'll like it here. Girls here can relate to you."

"Yeah, I guess." I shrugged, and made my way to my part of the room.

The room itself was huge, with eight little alcoves, four on each side of the room. They created little tiny rooms with three walls and an open side that opened to the middle of the room, which had armchairs and a TV. Six out of the eight alcoves were going to be rooms for the six girls who where staying there, and the final two were a kitchenette and a bathroom.

The building contained many rooms like this where the students stayed, and to get to the regular school building you crossed an enclosed skywalk over a busy highway. It was cool, but I didn't want to be there. The only reason I was there was because my father was filming a huge movie and he couldn't take care of me, and we could hardly ask my mother, because she left as soon as I was born. My father never told me who she was, blacked her face in all their pictures. Because there was no one to take care of me, my father decided to sign me up at a boarding school.

My father kissed the top of my head, and left, calling a taxi to pick him up as he always did. I unpacked my suitcase into the dresser and shoved it under my bed, which I flopped down on, opening my laptop. I didn't have anything else to do. I didn't want to talk to the other girls. They were giggling and talking loudly, not to mention being extremely distracting. I didn't have very many friends, I had enemies, and I made them quite quickly, generally just by a slip of the tongue. I didn't have much tolerance for people.

Amanda Hardly

The cab dropped me off at the boarding school, and after asking the front desk receptionist what room I was assigned ("Room 221, love") made my way up to my dorm. I wasn't quite excited about sharing a room with five other girls, but it was better than my alternative, which was staying at home with my parents, who tended to forget I existed. I was their oldest daughter, and what with my eight younger siblings, my older brother and my parent's jobs, I got lost in the shuffle- except for when something bad happened and I was to blame.

All the other girls had arrived by the time I got to the dorm, and I was stuck with the room closest to the door, directly across from a girl who had haphazardly stuffed all her clothes into her dresser so all the drawers hung open. She was lying on her bed, typing something on her laptop. I rolled my eyes. I was a neat freak, and if I was going to be stuck staring at her overflowing drawers for the next year I was going to go crazy.

"Hi!" one of the girls said, coming up behind me. She was tall with over-treated blonde hair and blue eyes that were nearly invisible under her makeup.

"Hey." I muttered, trying to show that I was busy unpacking, but her intelligence was as hidden as her original hair color.

"I'm Jordan. Jordan Maye. I'm in the section right next to you. Thought I'd say hi."

"Hi. I'm Amanda. Amanda Hardly." I responded, trying my best to sound nice.

"Want me to introduce you to everyone?" Jordan asked. "I know everyone's names already. Except for the girl in the last B side."