Target Acquired

Chapter 1

Logan's Point of View (POV)

*Beep* Beep* Beep* Beep* I groan in annoyance. It doesn't matter how many years I've been waking up at 6:45 every morning for school, it's still absolute and complete torture. I roll over on my side facing the alarm ready to smash my fist into the damn thing to get it to shut up. As I reach for the magic button my sister bursts into the room singing and prancing around like Bambi on drugs.

"It's breakfast time! It's breakfast time! It's time to eat our breakfast! It's breakfast time! It's breakfast time! It's time for us to eat!" Sammy sings as loud as humanly possible.

I quickly shut off my alarm and wish Sammy had an off button too. Oh well, I sigh and look over to my pillow. I guess this will just have to do. I lift my pillow, take aim... and let it fly! The pillow hits her squarely in the face and she automatically stops singing.

"He shoots! And he scores! I guess years of football paid off huh Sam?" I tease her and laugh.

She looks at me without a word for three short seconds before her wide blue eyes fill with tears and she starts breaking down. My bad, I wince. I quickly start to apologize willing her to not tell mom, but it's too late. The damage is already done. She runs out of my room slamming the door calling mom's name. Grrrreat.

"Mondays," I grumble as I get up from my tangled sheets. I head to the hall bathroom I share with Sammy, my one and only beloved sister. I take a quick, cold shower to wake up my senses and brush my teeth. I smile at my reflection and admire my white teeth. Not everyone has teeth like these and wearing braces in middle school was definitely a price to pay. Now every time I give a little smile along with a head nod girls fall at my feet. I've already mastered the art of The Teenage Girl.

I go back to my room and randomly fish out some jeans and a polo. It doesn't matter what I wear, the girls love it anyway.

After changing I walk downstairs to the kitchen, grab a piece of toast, and leave the house without a word. It's better to avoid mom after what happened with Sammy. I'm tired of all the "be more responsible" talks, especially after dad left seven years ago, right after Sammy was born. He couldn't take another kid.

I get in my car and drive to school tired and annoyed.

Kacie's POV

I awake to the feeling of something moist and slimy on my cheek. I slowly lift my head off my pillow and look around my large pink bedroom while adjusting my glasses. Then suddenly all my senses kick into alert mode and I realize I'm not in my bed. I'm sitting at my desk and I try to remember the events of my Sunday night.

I was trying to finish up the last of my speech on the American Revolution. I look down and see my paper peacefully resting on my white mahogany desk with a nice, thick, fold across the middle. And that moist, slimy stuff from before? Lo and behold a puddle of my drool on the top of the page. Just to make matters worse my speech isn't even finished! I must have fallen asleep from exhaustion last night before I got a chance to finish. Maybe I still have some time? I look over to my clock hanging on the wall. 7:55. OH MY GOSH, I'M LATE. Class starts at 8:05, so I only have 10 minutes to get to school. Gosh a miracle would be nice right about now.

I quickly stumble out of my chair and stuff all my textbooks and papers into my old backpack leaning against my desk. I run to the personal bathroom I have connected to my bedroom. One glance in the mirror and I know I won't have time to fix my disaster of an appearance. There's no time to do anything. Showering is out of the question. I rapidly pull a brush through my dark, tangled, waves of hair and swish some mouthwash around in my mouth. I then grab some fancy deodorant my mom bought me and put it on. Good enough.

I almost trip on my feet trying to get to my walk-in closet. I look down at my clothes: stained sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt.

"NO TIME," my subconscious yells at me. Right, right, I need to get out of here. I pull on a gray sweatshirt and a pair of Uggs. After a quick glance around the room I grab my bag, keys, and phone and dash down the stairs, out of the house, and into my car. I look at my dashboard to check the time. 8:01. I have four minutes to get to school. Nothing a little speeding couldn't fix. I pull out of the driveway and start driving to class.

The whole time I'm thinking, "I better get an A on this speech."