Shipped Away

I kid-you-not, in less than 36 hours, I was all packed and on a plane bound to Central America, Guatemala to be precise. !.
             My father had businesses there. It was also the place where he had met my mother, who came from a very well known family. This four-hour plane ride felt like an eternity. I was almost hoping the plane would not make it, but unfortunately for me, it did. .
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             Valladares 3.
             As I stepped out of this cool, American, air-conditioned plane into a humid and sticky, nasty, sorry excuse for a climate weather, I saw him. My dad. He had a very stern look on his face, you know, that kind of look a father has toward his child when he's extremely proud of him, except the opposite. Walking towards him seemed endless, my very short life flashed in front of me, no more friends, no more video arcades and no more sneaking into movie theaters to see "R" rated films. My life as I knew it was over. After that, all I could think about was how angry I was at my mother for doing this to me. "Shipping me away". After all, it was her fault not mine! (yeah, right!).
             My first year in boarding school was hell. I didn't know much, if any Spanish, but that didn't seem to matter to any of my teachers. Needless to say, all my free time, if there was such a time in this hellhole I was in, was spent with Spanish/English tutors. Let me explain what this meant. It meant that everything that I studied in Spanish during the day, I had to learn it in English during the night, that's right, no time for anything else! I mean it really sucked! Getting a 79 percent on your grades at this school meant failing.
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             Valladares 4.
             I was barely getting 59 percent on my grades back at home in the English language For every week that you did not average 80 percent on your grades it meant that you would be "arrested" for that weekend.