Title: Thoughts of a Chilton Queen (duh…)

Pairing: Two people from my own brain. Anna Marie (Rich Girl) and Brian (Small town boy)

Rating: phh…this is barely "G" but some people might consider it "PG" as there's a few delicate subjects.

Chapter Title: …And I got called a Chilton Queen…

Author's Note, and Other Information: This was written because someone told me to write a diary/journal entry in the point of view of a quote-unquote Chilton Queen, and there could be no reference to either Rory, Tristan or any other Gilmore Girls characters. : Pouts: and I really wanted to use Tristan. Anyway, Anna Marie is a fictional person, as is her mother, Brian, and Anna Marie's little person she's making out with. I'm sorry about the short chapter, (it's barely 2 pages 1.5 spaced) but I'm not exactly sure how we're going to write this. This story should get deeper-hopefully anyway.

Sorry for the lack of previews but,

Here's your feature Presentation…

Thoughts of a Chilton Queen

Dear Journal,

Wow, I never thought I'd have a diary journal again. I suppose I should write what happened between then and now. The last one I had was when I was 12. My mother found it after I wrote about how I didn't like the fact that guys looked at me. She sent me away for a physiological evaluation, because she said it was the final piece in the puzzle for her. Something was wrong with me. Had to be wrong with me. I was gone for the rest of the year. When I got back, I was re-enrolled in Chilton. I was told to get between and 3.6 and 3.8 GPA, any lower, I'd be too stupid for a sensible girlfriend, and I shouldn't be too smart, for I'd intimate them. She never asked me what I wanted to do, never asked what'd I like.

I guess that's why I'm the way I am now. And how am I now? I'm Queen of Chilton. I've actually heard some freshman tell me that before. Which is no surprise actually. I mean, after I got home one day when I was about 15 and all my skirts were hemmed up a couple of inches and my shirts had purposely been shrunk in the wash. I asked my maid about it and she told me it was part "of the plan to make me popular." It worked.

My parents finally got what they wanted I guess. I'm about to go out with some womanizing freak in a half an hour. We're going to meet up with his friends for dinner then split up to go see a movie or something. Most likely he'll want the "or something," most guys do, and then on Monday I'll be up against someone's locker. I hope it's that new guy's locker…what's his name again… think it's Brian. He actually gave me a pitying look the other day when I was preventing him from getting to his locker. I think he actually gets what I'm playing. He might join the game, too. Too bad he's from some small town, if he was from around here, I might get away with dating him, that is if his long distance girlfriend took her claws out of him. She lives in California; she should go find some surfer bum. Maybe I should run away, beat up his girlfriend, come back, and I could date him anyway. Yea, I'd like to run away. I need to stop making up stories. Someone might read this and then I might get sent away again. But, maybe I should sometime-go out with Brian, I mean. There are not many nice guys like Brian around here; he'd be a refreshing change.

I only have 5 minutes to get ready. I can't believe I took so much time writing in this thing. So much for that running away and stealing Brian idea.

I don't like the fact that I'm basically writing to a journal that doesn't listen, just hears. So I'm going to name you, journal. I talk to guys more then I do girls so I think I should give you a guy's name. How about I name you…Christopher. Yes, I think it fits you, Christopher. I hate it when people shorten names. So, I won't shorten yours. I'll write back to you later, Christopher.

Anna Marie.