mister princess

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢

     "¡Vamanos, Marco! Your driver is here!" My mother's voice rang up the stairs as she yelled at me in her thick hispanic accent. I grunted as I attempted to shove my suitcase closed.

      "Coming, mamá!" I called back, finally zipping it up. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, and snatched up my phone in one hand and gripped the handle of my suitcase with the other.

     Today was the day I left for military school. Smith Military Academy for Boys, to be exact. I had begged my mother to let me start at a normal high school for freshman year, but she was not having it after I stole from that jewelry store at the mall. See, that's the thing about being a normally good kid. I don't drink, don't smoke, don't sneak out or normally do anything illegal. But I fuck up one time, and my mom—who's strict as hell by the way—sends me off to boarding school.

     Once I was downstairs, I gave my mom a tight hug, then bid her goodbye in Spanish before I was out the door.  "Adiós, mamá. Te amo."

     "Te amo también," she replied, then walked me to the door. Waiting for me outside was the chauffeur in the black limo, with the Smith Schoolboard logo plastered on the side. My hand was on the door handle when my mom called out again.

     "Call me every night, Marco, ¿sí?" I turned to see her waving, and blew her a kiss as I replied.

      "Okay, mamá, ¡adiós!"

       I climbed into the car and threw my bags into the empty seat next to me.

      "Anita Inéz?" The man in the driver's seat asked. That was my mother's name, not mine, but I nodded anyway.

     The chauffeur said nothing else as we drove off, so I plugged in my earbuds and opened up YouTube for the long drive.

♛ ♛ ♛

      "Here we are," The only words the chauffeur said to me the whole drive startled me.

      "Thank you," I mumbled as I pulled my bags out of the seat and on the pavement. My eyes followed the walkway up to a sign that read "Smith Schools" with the same logo that was on the car below the name. At the sign, the walkway split in to two, each leading up to a huge building. On the left, a sleek, modern-looking building with the sign "Smith Military Training Academy for Boys" plastered above the door, and below it, a banner reading "Welcome to the new school year, boys!" in fun colors. To the right, a castle-like, white mansion with huge double doors. The sign above those doors read "Smith Royal Training Academy for Girls," and the same back-to-school banner hung below it. Wow, princesses vs military soldiers. That's a weird way to gender categorize. I thought. But shrugged it off as I rolled my bag down the left walkway and up to the Military Academy building.

     Once inside, the main room buzzed with life as all different boys, from freshman to senior year, talked and greeted one another. At least everyone seems friendly, I thought. The wheels of my suitcase tumbled on the clean tile floor as I strolled up to the front desk. The man at the desk looked kind, with round glasses and a scruffy, graying beard. He smiled as he asked,

     "What's your name, young man?"

      "Marco Inéz," I replied, unplugging my earbuds and wrapping the cord around my
phone. The man scanned the list of names on the desk in front of him, muttering "Inéz" over and over again to himself.

      "Marco, I don't see your name on here, bud," He replied, concerned. "Who signed you up for the Academy?"

       "My mother," I replied, confused. "Anita Inéz."