Post by madisonsaunders on Jun 11, 2011 21:16:37 GMT -6
MadisonJANESAUNDERS
“Well, tell me a little about yourself. What’s your name?”
My name is Madison Jane Saunders, of the Manhattan Saunderses. You'd do well to remember that. Its a name you'll be hearing a lot around here from now on. If you're lucky, I'll give you permission to use the moniker 'Maddy', or, for the very select few, 'MJ'. My grandmother on my father's side is named Madison, so the name runs in the family. I'm not sure where the Jane comes from, frankly, I don't care.
And you want to know a bit about me? How about this for starters. I DO NOT belong here. First off, Oklahoma? Really? Couldn't you pick a state that didn't bore me to death? Who actually chooses to live in Oklahoma? I've been here all of five minutes and my skin is drying out already. And, yeah, I've checked it out, there isn't a decent mall or outlet within 20 miles of this hell hole. Great. It's going to be an awesome two years.
Secondly, and this is the more important point. The people here are freaks. I'm not talking the 'basement dwelling chess club losers who have an aversion to showering' kind of freak No, these people are criminals, psychopaths. I know how to use Google, I checked this place out. There are, like, arsonist and thieves and God only knows who else here. Great job Daddy, way to prove a point. I'm going to get raped, mugged and burned alive. But hey, as long as you feel I'm learning a lesson, it's all good, right?
Again, I reiterate, I should not be here. I mean, I'm a lot of things to be sure, and maybe I'm not always a sweetheart, but this? This is overkill. This is ridiculous. This is going to be hell.
“Next question, how has your High School career gone thus far?”
Up until this moment, my high school life was picture perfect. I mean, I don't want to brag, but I know for a fact that had you met me a year ago, you would have wanted to be me. I went to Trinity School in Manhattan, only one of the best private school in the country. I'd been enrolled there since kindergarten, I knew that place like the back of my hand. I knew every student, every teacher, every hallway. My best friends and I were inseparable, and because my mother was on the board, she could always pull a few strings, make sure we got in the same classes.
My teachers all loved me, I swear, assignments completed or not, I always managed to swing an A. The guys all wanted me, there was always someone around to carry my books (yeah, I'm old fashioned that way, it's called 'class'. Not that I'd expect you people to get it). I had the best group of friends , got invited to all the parties, and had the entire student population eating out of our hands.
I suppose if you wanted to put a stupid, lame ass, Gossip Girl tag line on it, you could have called me the Queen Bee. I ruled that place with an iron fist. What I wanted, I got. Who I wanted, I got. And good luck to any one who tried to stop me.
School was all about networking, making the connections and ties that would get us through our adult life. We were the elite. The top echelon of Manhattan society. How you ranked at Trinity determined how you'd rank when you left. And I was on top. Sure, I suppose I could have been applying myself harder in class, maybe my father is right, and I wasn't 'meeting my potential', but who needed studying when doe eyes and sweet smile would buy you anything you wanted from the staff? Maybe I'd fall on my ass in college, but come on, be serious, look at me. Do I look like the kind of girl who needs higher education? My mother never graduated with a college degree, and she's living in one of the best apartments on fifth avenue.
And don't think it's easy. Those people are vicious and catty, and will stab you in the back at the first sign of weakness. I had to earn my spot. I guess that makes me a bitch. Maybe I could have been a nicer person. But I'd rather be labeled a bitch than a loser.
This was going to be my year. This was supposed the year I was crowned Junior Prom Queen, this was supposed to be the year that Dylan Marsh (his father is in Oil, he's gorgeous, a Senior, AND has pre-acceptance at Yale, hello! Talk about a catch), was going to fall head over heels for me. But now, instead, I'm stuck here. So much for the best years of my life. How the hell am, I supposed to become Mrs. Marsh now?
“What did you do when you weren't in school? Any hobbies or sports, anything like that?”
First of all, sports? Eww, no thank you. I would much rather control my diet and run on the treadmill like a normal person than be one of those sweat soaked, testosterone filled, muscle bound jock girls. I mean really, that's just disgusting.
As for other hobbies, I guess my life outside school wasn't all that different than my life in school. I hung out with friends, went shopping, went to parties. It was New York. There was always something to do, somewhere to be seen. Club openings, galleries, Broadway, sample sales, glorious sample sales. It was heaven. Let me guess, there's not much like that here.
I think I'll miss the parties most of all. You haven't been to a party until you've been to a New York party, let me tell you. None of this beer keg in the basement shit. I'm talking about penthouse suits, bar tenders and live bands. Plus, if you felt so inclined, there were always plenty of, uh, party favours to go around. (Read between the lines here, I'm talking about recreational drug usage, but wouldn't be so crass to say it).
Ok, I lied. I'll miss the parties, but God I will miss the sample sales more. I was a beast. No one, and I mean no one, could stand in my way at one of those. Of course, I could easily afford to buy the clothes straight off the rack at Bergdorfs, but where's the challenge in that? I love the thrill and sense of accomplishment that came from scoring the newest Manolo's at half the cost, and beating out dozens of other women to do so.
I spent a good deal of my time with guys. Like I said earlier, they all wanted me. So, naturally, dating became a hobby of sorts. I think it's the same as the sample sales, there is something so satisfying about snagging one of the good ones. And hey, if someone else wanted him too, even better. Guys are a lot like shoes, they aren't the most important thing to be sure, but they are a lot of fun and no outfit is complete without them. And, like shoes, the best ones are always expensive and foreign.
Confession time. I read a lot. And no, not just Vogue and In Style. Classics. I have read Pride and Prejudice about a million times. I like to keep that on the down low though, kinda doesn't fit in with my persona, you know? But on rare occasions when I found myself alone, I loved to go down to the library. It's weird, I know, but I love the smell of old books. It was relaxing, calming in a way the rest of my life wasn't. It was great, in the middle of all those books, I didn't have to try so damn hard to be perfect. I guess you could say it was my sanctuary.
As long as I'm just throwing it all out there, I may as well also confess my love of art. I'm not going to go as far as to say I'm an artist, that just sounds pretentious. And, to be honest, I'm not very good. But I love it. My dad spent a small fortune converting one of the smaller spare rooms into a studio for me. It's a lot like the library, a private place. I usually would spend an hour or so before bed sketching or painting. I bet my parents have already turned it back into a guest bedroom by now.
“Family and friends are pretty important. Tell me about them. How are your relationships with them?”
Really? Seems a bit like psychoanalyzing, doesn't it? Fine. You want to hear about my relationships. I'll tell you. You're probably expecting some kind of variation on the 'poor little rich girl' story. You know the one, where the father is cold and distant, the mother is drunk and needy, and the poor kid is left to fend for herself.
I only wish. My parents are close. Too close. As in they know every detail about what's going on in my life. My dad is the worst, my mom knows so much by choice, my dad knows because he wants to make sure everything is just right. He's a perfectionist, and therefore, expects me to be the same. He's strict as hell with me, but I suppose he's fair. He used to be out of the country a lot for work, but at some point, decided he needed to spend more time at home with me, that he was missing out on my childhood, blah, blah, blah. Personally, I think he found out about the horribly cliched affair my mom was having with her yoga instructor, and that's what brought him back. But hey. If he needs to claim it was for my benefit, who am I to judge. We get along. As long as I keep certain things to myself. He's no idiot. He knows I have S*x, drink, occasionally get a little wild at parties, but as long as we don't talk about it, and he can pretend it isn't happening, he's cool. Its when he catches me that things are bad. Luckily, after years of tuning him out, his temper doesn't get to me that much. As long as my credit cards remain in tact, I'm more than OK with whatever punishment he doles out.
My mom is awesome. She is my idol. Number one, she's stunning. Thank god I inherited her looks, not my dads. Number two, she is the toughest woman I know. She was born in Mexico. Her family moved to Texas when she was 8. I don't know exactly what happened between her and her family, but it was clearly bad, since she left when she was 16, and refuses to talk about it. In fact, we don't have any contact with her side of the family at all. She made her way to New York, and managed to snag my dad, the heir to a shipping company, while she was waiting tables. Way to move up in the world mom. She's cool. I feel like I can actually talk to her about anything. And she;s not one of those mothers who tried to relive her youth through her kids. She lets me make my own decisions, gives me whatever I want, is never weird about things like S*x or drinking, and is usually pretty good at convincing my dad to just let things go. It's a little dorky, but I would say she's my best friend. She's really the only other person I completely trust. Well, that is until she shipped me here.
My friends are pretty great. As in they are just like me. And who could go wrong with that? Yeah, sometimes I wish there was a little less jockeying for power, but in the end, they are just trying to do the same as me. There are three of us who all started at Trinity at the same time. Cassandra, Ellenor and I. I love them to death. I guess I have tonnes of friends, but I use the term loosely. Those two are really the only ones I care about. Everyone else is more of an acquaintance. They have their uses, and yeah, I'm fond of them, but it's not like I'd take a bullet for them.
“Thank you for sharing that with me. So those are your family and friends, what about yourself? Describe yourself to me.”
Why do you want me to describe myself? Hoping to dig out some self esteem issues that are the route of my problems? Well good luck. I'm happy with the way I look. I'm an average height, 5'5, and happily, I've not inherited my mom's Wily Coyote sized feet. I'm thin, and trust me, I've worked hard at that. But unfortunately, there's a few stubborn pounds that I can't seem to shed. Dark brown eyes, and dark hair that I usually wear long. I take a lot of pride in my appearance, and will always be impeccably dressed and done up. I have no distinguishing birthmarks or anything, but I do have a small tattoo on my hip. A little butterfly. I got it on a dare, and dear god, please don't let my dad ever find out.
Mentally, well, clearly someone thinks there's something wrong in my head since I'm here. But I don't know know what. I'm happy, and well balanced, and until I landed here, everything was perfect in my world. Check back with me after a couple months here, I may have more mental issues to delve into then.
“Other then the reason your here, at Blackwood Academy, have you had any other issues with law enforcement?”
Not really, no. This is the perfect chance for me to reiterate that I shouldn't be here. I mean, OK, to be fair, there have been a few incidents. Nothing big, and nothing that resulted in any charges. I got picked up a few times for underage drinking in clubs. Maybe once or twice a party got a little out of control and the cops were called in. And there were a few times at school that they did random locker checks and caught me with some less than harmless narcotics. I'm a teenager for Christ sake, it happens to all of us, right? Nothing that should have me labeled as a 'delinquent'. But nope, apparently, according to the judge, I'm a habitual drug and alcohol user.
Aside from the totally bogus charges that landed me in here, the only really noteworthy trouble I have had was when some friends and I tried to smuggle some weed we picked up on a weekend trip to Toronto over the border on the way home. No big deal really, it was only a few ounces anyways.
“What is the worst thing you’ve done? Why did you feel the need to do that?”
Right... well, I guess you'd probably expect me to talk about 'the incident' that put me here. But I maintain that wasn't really my fault. So I would have to say the thing I actually feel worst about is the Mr. Conners situation.
So, Mr. Connors was my History teacher last year, fresh out of college, funny, and a stone cold fox. He was absolutely gorgeous. Really, the school board should have thought more carefully before dropping him into the middle of a high school filled with hormone crazed teenaged girls. Anyways, like I said, he was beautiful. Almost all the girls had a thing for him, and I dunno, I guess I had to prove I was the best. Because out of all the girls that wanted him, I was going to be the only one who actually got him.
It was surprisingly easy to seduce him. Yeah, he was a good ten years older than me, but guys are guys no matter what, and really, hooking them is a piece of cake. I thought it would be more difficult, I was only 15 after all, but it only took a month of our 'extra credit study sessions' before he slept with me. I won him, over all the other girls there, there was no reason to keep things going so I broke it off. Of course, I had to tell everyone, what would be the point if no one knew I had staked the claim on him? Word spreads quick I guess, and wasn't long before the administration was questioning him. He was fired, clearly. Turns out he'd had a fiance too. She left him. I do feel bad about that. I basically ruined this guy's life because I could, and it would give me an edge over a couple of friends.
He was a sweetheart, didn't ever say who it was. So thankfully I came out unscathed on that one. I'm over it now. I'm sure he is too. But apologizing to him is on my bucket list.
"What the one things you're most proud of?"
My status. Simple. I worked hard to be at the top. And I'll have to work even harder to get it back once I get out of here.
"Other then your trouble with law enforcement, do you have any vices or addictions?"
I wouldn't call it a vice per say, but I do drink and occasionally do drugs. I'm not like, addicted or anything, but I like to have a good time at parties. I don't smoke, I think it's disgusting. I'm healthy, I'm active, I don't even eat non organic or processed food for goodness sake. So no. I don't have vices or addictions. I have fun every once and awhile and I don't think there is anything wrong with that.
“If you could change one thing about your life what would it be?”
I wish was back home. I know I'm probably sounding like a broken record, but I was happy there... I guess if I could change one thing, it would have been how I treated Nicole. I think it's some major bull shit that I'm here because of it, but I guess if I wasn't such a cow to her, then I'd still be home.
“What criminal act got you sent here and who recommended it?”
OK, so for the record, I hardly think this should qualify as a criminal act. But if we're being technical, I was charged with Manslaughter. It's really not as bad as it sounds though. See, there was this girl, Nicole Weller, a welfare case who was in Trinity on scholarship. You should have seen this girl, talk about a face only a mother could love. She was hideous, poor, and the size of a house. On top of that, she was the biggest nerd I have ever seen. So yeah, naturally we picked on her a bit.
It was really nothing, I mean, everyone gets teased in high school right? Well, I wasn't, but I hear it's pretty common. It should have toughened her up. I don't really think we were cruel to her. We made jokes, pulled a few pranks on her. Kids stuff. Ok, so getting the captain of the basket ball team to ask her out then ditch her was mean, and getting her name printed as Nicole 'Lard ass' Weller in the year book was harsh, but hardly criminal.
Problem is, I guess she took it harder than we thought. She killed herself. I mean I feel bad, but I refuse to believe she killed her self because we were taunting her. The rest of her life had to be pretty shit too, right? Apparently, according to police, a bunch of lawyers and some whack job psychologists, what I did was considered overtly aggressive, damaging and cruel treatment, which was a direct cause of Nicole's mental state and emotional well being, and therefore was a direct cause of her suicide. So, BAM, there you have it. Manslaughter.
By all accounts, that should have me going to a juvenile detention center. Hell, there was even talk about wanting to try me as an adult. Everyone wants to make a stand on bullying I guess. Luckily, my dad is an important man, he knows people. He, and my well paid lawyers, made sure I never saw the inside of a courtroom. Unfortunately, they did it by arranging for me to spend my next two years here.
Frankly, I would rather have gone and faced the charges in court, there is no way I would have been convicted, and I would be starting my year at Trinity.
“Do think that you deserve to be here?”
Hell no! I thought I made that abundantly clear! I definitely don't deserve to be here. It sucks that Nicole decided to kill herself, and I'm sorry she felt she had too, but it was not my fault, and I shouldn't be punished just because she was depressed. I mean, every time some chunky tire biter decides to off herself, are you going to blame the pretty, normal girl? No. That's ridiculous..
"Tell me about your life before Blackwood Academy contacted you, what led up to your stay here."
I thought that was pretty much explained already. My life was great. Do you really want me to go into more details? Talk about how we spent every weekend in the summer at our place in Nantucket? How I got to go on fabulous vacations, travel the world? How I had everything I could possibly want?
I'll admit, maybe it sounds crazy, but in all honestly, before this stupid thing about Nicole, everything was going exactly how I wanted it too. My life was picture perfect. It was good to be me.
Because I don't want to talk about it anymore. As of right now, my life is freaking over. Talking about the glory days before this shit hole is just going to make me depressed. And you'd better be careful, I get depressed and decide to slash my wrists, someone may very well decide you deserve to be in jail.
Saunders, Madison, J:
Race: Caucasian and Hispanic
DOB and Age: August 13, 16 years old
Age admitted to Blackwood’s Academy: 16, she's been here a few weeks, since the start of the new year.
Grade: Junior (11)
Health issues: Aside from massive entitlement issues, this is N/A
Other: any other notes about the character
Race: Caucasian and Hispanic
DOB and Age: August 13, 16 years old
Age admitted to Blackwood’s Academy: 16, she's been here a few weeks, since the start of the new year.
Grade: Junior (11)
Health issues: Aside from massive entitlement issues, this is N/A
Other: any other notes about the character
Your name: Sylvie
How you found us: Probaords
Code word in the Rules:Admin Edit
Play by: Selena Gomez
This Application was created by JEZ! A.K.A Two.Last Words. Do not steal or remove credit. Or I will sick my doggy Drako on you. He enjoys biting the butts of others so BEWARE!