D A M A G E D • HS

2

In the morning our practices are just weight training to keep strong and in shape. We don't actually head out onto the field until after school, which I'm thankful for. I don't think I could survive running around with gear on with the massive headache I have.

I grab my bag with my sports gear and my school backpack and head downstairs. I walk to the front door of my silent house, grab my keys off the hook and walk towards the garage.

Once I enter my garage I click my keys so my car unlocks and swiftly sit in the driver's seat throwing my bags in the seat on the passenger side.

I start my car, and open the middle compartment to grab my garage clicker out. I press the up button to open my garage door.

I wait patiently for the door to fully disappear before putting my gear stick in reverse and back out from my spot in the garage carefully into my driveway.

Once fully out I grab my clicker again and push the down button, waiting for the door to fully go back down and lock before driving off and making my way to school.

The roads are relatively clear this early in the morning. The drive to my school only took about ten minutes.

My school is what people refer to as a preppy school. It may be a public school, but most of the kids who attended are wealthy.

My school is in the district closest to all the big mansions, where the families who are CEO's, surgeons, doctors, real estate agents, council members, etc., etc. live.

I myself live in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods around here. My father is a world renowned Cardiothoracic surgeon or commonly known as a heart surgeon. My mom on the other hand owns a luxury clothing brand.

My mom often travels and is rarely home. She mainly spends most of her time in New York or Los Angeles.

If I'm being honest, I'm not sure why my parents chose to move from London to North Carolina, it doesn't make any sense to me, but I don't mind it, I actually kind of like it here.

I moved here when I was twelve and entering what Americans refer to as middle school, specifically the seventh grade.

I was instantly popular from the moment I stepped foot into the school. One, I have a british accent which everyone found intriguing and attractive, two, I'm rich, and three, I'm hot.

Everyone loves me, which makes total sense because what's not to love. I'm literally the best.

When moving here my parents thought it would be a grand idea to involve me in a sport. I thought football, or basketball would be big here because that seems to be the most talked about sports in America, but the school district I'm in, lacrosse is the big sport.

So I decided that was the sport I was gonna play. I joined one of the out of school club teams and trained very hard to be a half decent player since I had no clue what the fuck I was doing.

My first year, I wasn't too shabby for never playing. I worked hard, trained vigorously since I had nothing better to do, and eventually it paid off when I entered high school and was the only freshman to make the varsity team.

When I say I dedicated my time and energy to learning and perfecting lacrosse, I mean I spent every waking moment training with a personal trainer, going to the gym, practicing by myself on the field or in my backyard. I made lacrosse my life, it was the distraction I needed.

I'm glad I started because I fucking love the sport and I really love the perks of being one of the best players in the school district.

I barely noticed that I've reached my school until I was parking in my designated spot. I turned my car off, grabbed both my bags from the passenger seat and got out. I closed the door and locked my car behind me.