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ADRIAN MARTIN'S ROOM HAD BEEN AT ITS ABSOLUTE MESSIEST OVER THE COURSE OF THE SUMMER DUE TO HIS INABILITY TO CLEAN, AND ALSO TO CARE. His mother had warned him that cleaning up for the new school year would be wise, knowing he was even more slovenly once his education and lacrosse training kicked in. Plus, his room reeked of teenage boy. But, does Adrian Martin ever listen to an opinion that wasn't his own? Not often.
He currently had his earplugs in, his head staying in tune with the music beats as he scribbled some half thought-out answers on a piece of paper for his English class; having regrettably left it till last minute.
His lacrosse coach, Bobby Finstock, had pulled him aside on the last day of school in hopes of talking some sense into him. By all means, Adrian was a fantastic player; Coach had even tried to make him captain instead of Jackson Whittemore, to which the redhead flat out refused for a reason still unknown to all. His only problem was his grades, and his incapability to stabilise them.
Adrian had had many warnings. He was swimming in deep waters, any deeper, and he would surely sink to the point of no return. He would be benched for god knows how long, most likely until he got stable grades — which Adrian didn't feel like putting the effort in for.
Beside him, on his desk, lay his alarm clock. The time? He didn't know. He didn't check. Some would call it forgetfulness, some would call it determination, some would call it ultimate concentration.
Some would call it having so much work on your hands that you stay up all night with no break, unaware of your surroundings as your older sister barges into your room.
"Adrian!" The boy yipped when something smacked against the back of his mop of hair, a banana wobbling to a still on his desk as he spun around in his swivel chair.
Adrian looked overly offended as he rubbed the back of his head, pulling out his earplugs as he asked, clearly irritated. "Ow, Lyds! What the hell was that for?"
