Alpha's Gymnast

Chapter 2

I zone out finishing up my final round of knee stretches this morning warming up the almost healed muscle. I've spent the majority of the past week in the car as Dad wanted to take his sweet time driving up to our latest house. Probably so I can get straight back to training without questions. He was quick to sign me up for private school, making sure I had all of my classes once more. I'm not looking forward to the uniforms, or much else in this town.

No offense to anyone who lives in Maine, or in this town. But the idea of a private school and a private gym are daunting. I want to be a normal teen whose only concern is if I'll have a date for prom. Instead I get to enjoy an elite private school and the private gym while trying and likely failing to find any sort of friend group. I'm going to be the weird gymnast girl who has no friends- again. My eyes are drawn back to the school uniform, it's not the worst one. At least it's not plaid.

This uniform consists of a white button up, navy blazer or the option of a vest, a pleated navy skirt and your choice of tall white socks or stockings. While the school was kind enough to offer the students some form of choice their guidelines negate any form of it. The shoes must be single tone, no open toe and no more than a two inch heel. All of it completed by the dark brown tie. I hate this school already. From the brown tie to matching heels and blazer Dad has opted for me to wear.

Today is Monday, not only my first day at school but also at the elite gym. Maybe there will be other girls my age there. While I hope so, I'm not going to hold my breath. Massaging my knee I sigh and contemplate asking to skip school. Or practice. I can already hear Dad raging at the mere mention of it. He thinks skipping school is bad, but practice? I might as well start digging my grave and be on my deathbed.

"Ashley! I made breakfast, come on and finish getting ready you need to eat," he ordered from the kitchen and I grumble. Not going to get away with faking a cold or anything of the sort.

"I'm almost finished, I'll be down in a few minutes," I called back and dressed in the dreaded uniform, brushing my teeth and washing my face. I'm so glad I can't figure out how to do make-up. By the time I get to practice I have little time to remember to wash the stuff off otherwise I look like I'm a monster with my face melting off. Got to make sure my hair is impeccable today.

Tying my hair back into a tight ballet bun with extra mouse and hairspray I finish it off with my black scrunchie. I smooth out my tucked in shirt and straighten my tie feeling like this is a poor rendition of Britain's school uniform. I feel like such a try hard with the heels. I could curse my father if I didn't want to get a paddling. I add the blazer and adjust my brace over my knee high white stockings.

"Ashley! Now," he orders strictly. I'm coming. It's been a nightmare trying to stay still this week to heal 'quicker'. I tried my best to at least get another few days off of practice. His response was to bring me to the doctor to 'check up' on an achy knee. Of course it proved to be healed enough in his mind. The doctor couldn't find any source of pain besides a show of past injuries, he thinks I could be on the path to arthritis already.

If I'm lucky I won't need a knee replacement by the time I'm twenty. That is likely what will take me out of the sport, at this rate I may need a replacement sooner rather than later. This is my second major injury to my right knee, one more and I won't be able to come back. Maybe I won't make stupid mistakes when I'm a level ten. It feels like wishful thinking on my part. With my messenger bag in hand I head downstairs headed off by Dad as he scowls at me.

"Sorry, I had to finish my stretches before I finished getting ready," I excuse with a small smile watching him stare at me before he sighs and turns. Probably rolling his eyes at me. He's worse than a teenager most days. Maybe he got all of my hormones. The thought nearly makes me giggle aloud as I sit down in front of the plate of one piece of whole grain toast topped with egg whites, avocado and honey. The side of sliced apple is almost an afterthought.