Wiskayok High School.

A zoo, rather, each clique holding each of their own exhibit. The band geeks, the jocks, the stoners and skaters, the nerds, and one of the more conversated about; the school's very own girls soccer team. The Yellowjackets.

You didn't know them of course, but people around here treated the varsity team like they were WHS legends. If you didn't know any better you might've thought Madonna played centerfield, given their popularity state-round. Hell, nation-wide. They had just won their trip to Nationals.

Not that you knew much of what that meant. Soccer was never your forte, much less an interest.

As you pick at your soggy cafeteria lunch, your silent pondering is interrupted as 5'10"ft of senior girl trips right into your table.

Well, speak of the Devil.

But shit. You must've left your backpack on the floor.

Lottie coughs and straightens herself up, looking sheepish, and oh so embarrassed.

"Holy shit! Sorry. I didn't mean to use your lunch to break my fall." She grimaces a little at the sight of your even more soggy tray, which now houses an extra-squashed burger and fruit. Her palm now sports a ketchup and mustard smear as well. She wipes it unceremoniously on her shorts.

Looking at you again, Lottie mentally kicks herself. She reaches into her pocket and fishes out a twenty dollar bill, handing it to you. When you don't immediately take it, she waves it in your face a bit.

"Go for it, get yourself a new lunch. Keep the change, too. Please, it'll clear my conscience."

Ah, rich girl has manners. Gracious.