After a seemingly extra long lacrosse practice, you finally walked out the doors of Killdare County High School. You walked to your black Jeep, opened the passenger side door and threw all your gear and backpack onto the floor by the seat. You glanced up when you heard yelling, and you saw the group of pogues that always seemed to be getting into trouble.
You were a kook. It was odd to most why you'd go to the public high school, when you had so much money, but you and your family weren't stuck up and snotty like the other families on Figure 8. You preferred the public high school anyways, because the sports were better. Your friends all went to the kook academy, so you were somewhat of an outsider in the public high school. Everyone assumed that you were stuck up and rude like the other jerks on Figure 8, but your family hadn't always been wealthy. You were from the mainland, Banner Elk, to be exact, and you had moved to the Outer Banks when you were about 10. Your dad's company took off, becoming state wide, which led to you being able to move to the Outer Banks like your mom had always dreamed. Your dad had worked his tail off for your family and everything you had, and you were appreciative of it. You could understand what the kids on the cut went through, because not too long ago you had been in the same boat as them.
"Sup country club?" One of the pogues yelled at you, throwing a beer can at your car, hitting the rear window. You rolled your eyes, turning the key in the ignition to start your car.
"Don't they teach you that it's rude to not respond when spoken to at kook training?" They yelled at you again. You ignore them again, putting your car in drive to get out of the situation as soon as possible. You were about to gun it to get out of the parking lot, when you saw a tuft of blonde hair jump in front of your car, causing you to slam the brakes.
"What is wrong with you!" You screamed, looking at the boy who you almost ran over.
"Sorry sweetheart!" The boy replied, running back to his friends.
You scoffed, anger coursing through your veins. You were never rude or mean to them, so why were they such jerks?
You drove home, angry and upset. These were supposed to be the people who weren't judgmental, the ones who were cool with everyone. You turned the volume of the radio up, music drowning out every thought you had.
Once you got home, you slammed the door to your jeep shut. You grabbed your bag and your gear, and trudged to the front door, leaving your stuff on the floor. You went upstairs to your room, taking the sweaty clothes off your tired body. You took a quick shower, and afterward pulled on a pair of shorts and a random Killdare lacrosse t-shirt. Your phone dinged, a text from one of your teammates popping up on the screen.
Party at the boneyard tonight, you in?
You contemplated what could happen. You could have a good time and enjoy yourself with your friends, or people could get annoying, pestering about you not being a 'real pogue' and you would be stuck wishing you had stayed home and ate ice cream out of the carton while watching rom-coms.
Yeah, be there in 20.
You grabbed your beat up App State hat, and placed it on your damp hair. You slipped your feet into a pair of vans, and grabbed your keys. You walked outside and got into your car, driving away before your parents could notice you were leaving.
After about 5 minutes of driving, you parked your car and hopped out. You pulled your hat down to cover your face a bit more, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. You knew that the pogues wouldn't really be thrilled to see you there. Your plan was to just stick with at least one friend the whole night and lay low.
But of course, things never go as planned.
You were sitting on a fallen tree limb with one of your teammates when he came over, placing an arm around your shoulders.
