Experiment BT6

This story will be released in chapters.

Dashiell Plattson (Learfox,Virginia)

I’m about to crack one of the most complicated codes in the book when my mom barges through my room door, my annoying 15-year-old sister, Ava, trailing behind her. She rips the book from my hands and throws it across the room, grinning from ear to ear. 

I throw my hands up indignantly. “What gives, Mom?” I ask, annoyed.

“This gives, Dash!” she replies excitedly, exuberantly thrusting a crisp, white paper into my hands. “Look at it! Look at it!”

“Ok, ok, jeez, Mom,” I say. I gaze at the big, bold words at the top as my jaw drops in shock. 

You, Dashiell Plattson, have been accepted into an elite boarding school for the gifted, Dartheimer Academy, (address below) along with only 4 other extremely talented kids, and a group of the best teachers worldwide! 

Gifted? There’s nothing gifted about me. I have average grades in school, and my only “talent” is solving puzzles.  

I look up at my mom, who is shaking in elation. 

“I knew it! I knew you were special!” she squeals gleefully, wrapping her arms around me and crushing my ribs. 

I take one last glance at the paper, and decide; “Hey, this could be interesting”, and hug her back.

When I wake up the next day, I’m suddenly overcome by all the things that are going to happen due to this sudden change of schools. My best friend, Keith Gwendoll, the one person who managed to get me through the first two years of middle school alive? Gone. Sure, I can text, email, or call him, but it wouldn’t be the same. Keith is easily the funniest and coolest person I’ve ever met. He’d get new friends in a week, ten days tops. And me? What are the chances that 4 random other super geniuses would like the puzzle-obsessor introvert that I am? Very little, that’s for sure. And then there’s the problem that concerns me the most—I am, in no way whatsoever, super talented. 

I don’t excel in fifteen sports, I don’t do college-level math, and I’m definitely not some virtuoso who can play three instruments at once in perfect harmony. So—why?

Maybe I have some sort of latent talent that can change the world or something. I guess the people who recruited me know more about myself than I do.

Rodrick Halsworth  (London, England)

When I got the invitation to Dartheimer Academy, I wasn’t surprised. Genius runs in my family. I wouldn’t be living in a 35-million-dollar mansion if it weren’t for my billionaire father Derek Halsworth, founder of Supernova Tech, and, of course, my mother, Tiana Fleming, one of the most famous supermodels in the country. Before I received the letter, I went to Sedgewick Institute, and I excelled there. But there are a good 5,000 students at Sedgewick’s, and I had thought, a school with only 4 other meticulously picked students from across the globe might perhaps challenge me. So I had accepted. I didn’t really have any close friends at Sedgewick,  so I had no problem leaving. 

But that night, I had a faint sense of excitement—and also, surprisingly, fear. I had never been without my father and mother for days, or my servants, or my butler, Hank. What would I do if I wanted to watch a sci-fi film in the auditorium? Or take a ride on my private jet? Surely, when we email them and show them how powerful the Halsworth name is, they’ll let me bring Hank along. 

Ugh! My father isn’t letting me bring Hank! He says “I have to get unattached to my lifestyle”. Dads are so annoying sometimes. I accept the challenge though, and when I return(whenever that’ll be), I’ll show him that I easily breezed through the days. The school is quite far away, so I quickly said goodbye to my mother and father, all my twelve servants, and gave Hank a long bye-bye hug. As I lay down in the reclining seat of my private jet, I thought, Watch out, other students of Dartheimer Academy ! Rodrick Halsworth is coming your way!

Kate Shillane (Los Angeles, CA)

I’m happy I got the letter and all, but I’m pretty sure something’s up. Why? Because when I googled Dartheimer Academy, nothing showed up.  Ok, fine, there is a page about it being super prestigious and fancy, but the names of the people who reviewed it seemed fake. HappyMan134? SchoolCritic6175? MrAmazingIsAmazing?. Sure. Plus, I don’t even want to go to this school. My parents forced me because they said my regular one isn’t “enhancing my coding potential ”. 

Which is why I ended hacking into the mainframe in order to find out what’s really up with this school. Technically, I’m banned from hacking(courtesy of my parents) because when Arthur Terrence copied my math homework, I decided to send an email—from his account—to Mrs. Trogle, his math teacher, saying that he loathes her class and will never do a homework assignment again.

But, who cares about what my parents said? This could be something important. And HOLY SMOKES, is this school heavily guarded. It required six rotating 26 character chained passwords, and 14 layers of secure bug-detecting firewall protection. But that didn’t stop me. In fact, it just made me more certain that there is something juicy hiding behind all this. 

Four painful hours later, I just had to rewrite one more line of code to finally break in. And guess what? My mom popped her head through the door, saw me typing furiously on my computer, and banned me from even BRINGING  it there. I still get to bring my iPad and iPhone, since there’s a requirement for a device, but those aren’t as good for hacking, and I’ll have to RESTART.

The next day, when my family and I pile into the rusty old truck, I have so many questions in my mind. But I’m one of those people who love a good mystery.

Dominic Dales  (WINDE, Florida)

Ever since I got the invite, whenever I pass my Mom or Pops, they just clap me on the back and mutter something about raising a good man, whatever that means. I’m chill with it, because going to a super fancy school like this could get me into my dream college, NYU. I do have two demands though.  One: The school says that we don’t even get the weekends off, so I want to negotiate when my friends, Jimmy Laburn, Darryl Millers, and my parents can come over. 

Two: I have a dog that I really want to take. He’s fairly small, so he can easily fit in my backpack, and he’s VERY well-behaved. Ok, kind of well-behaved. But he’s still awesome.  His name is Damion Lickard a.k.a “The Chomp Champ” a.k.a “The Eager Eater” a.k.a “The Drooler Ruler” a.k.a “The Furry Fury”.  I know it sounds kiddy, but I don’t care when it comes to the Slippery Slobberer.

There’s only one big problem about this new Dartheimer thing. Now, all my friends are constantly calling me SuperNerd, and my sister, Jamilla, is joining in. But they won’t be laughing when I tell them about the gourmet food, the jumbo size TVs, and the NBA style basketball courts. I wonder if any of the other people ball, or like jumbo size TVs.  

Dartheimer replied a day after I filed my demands. They said that I could have TWO people over every THREE weeks, for exactly 150 minutes. so I guess I’ll have to alternate between friends and family. And maybe Jamilla. The bad news is, they responded with a harsh “Unfortunately, that will not be possible” to my dog question. But that’s fine. I’m okay with breaking the rules a little bit. There’s no way I’m leaving poor Damion with Jakilla. I’ll just stuff him in my Pops’ duffel bag, and poke some air holes. Don’t worry, I’ll buy my dad a new one. 

Eventually.

Bailey Tamawala  (Rainwall, Texas)

I’m really excited for Dartheimer, because ever since The Incident, it’s been extremely hard to get into schools because of that massive black mark on my record. But anyway, I’m SUPER hyped because this is a chance to get a fresh start in a new town, where people don’t stare disapprovingly at you and whisper hurtful things everywhere you go. I just hope that they have a rock climbing wall, because I cannot SURVIVE without rock climbing. My parents literally chose this town solely because of my addiction. I’m also obsessed with always being prepared, so I spent 4 hours, 16 minutes, and 20 seconds (give or take) packing. Yes, exactly.

I’m not that scared of everyone being a supergenius. I’m a massive math geek myself. And I have an eidetic memory. (I never forget anything.) I’m just counting the minutes until we get to go. Literally.

The night before me and my family set off, I couldn’t sleep. Like, not at all. My 3-year-old brother, Wiley, decided to sleep in MY room because he “had nightmares”. All the more reason to be eager to leave. 

Finally, after a long, extremely painful car ride(Wiley peed his pants TWICE) we pull up to the academy. I’m fairly sure that we put in the wrong address, because this isn’t a school. This is a PALACE. It looks like it had been plucked out of a fairy tale. Grand golden gates stand intimidatingly before it all, their imposing shadow making you feel insignificant. It’s enveloped with a meticulously landscaped garden, boasting an array of colorful flowers and statues of elegant horses(why?). 

“Whoa,” I breathe. 

“Well,” my mom starts awkwardly, “I guess this is your stop.” We exchange hugs and tearful goodbyes, and they pile into the car and drive away, into the distance, leaving me alone with this imperial mansion. 

As if on cue, a booming, sonorous voice coming from I’m not sure where announces, “Bailey Reels Tamawala, welcome to Dartheimer Academy.”