Mom and Daddy left a few hours ago, and I already miss them. I wonder what Hawaii is like? I guess I'll find out soon enough. Mom in notorious about pictures. Dad just goes along with whatever.
I just got the news. It's only been about a day and a half since uncle Tom got here, and apparently Aunt is prego. I've never been around a baby since I can remember, and to be honest I don't want one. Oh well, by the time it gets here, I'll be already twelve and a half! Dad had promised a few years ago, when he left, that he wouldn't miss my birthday for the world. Now My dreams have come true, ever since he came home.
I don't have time to write anymore before my hand starts to get sore again. I carefully close the book-of-Kennedy's-life and shove it under my bed. Even if someone were to find it, they would think it was just one of the books from the library. The only person I have to worry about reading it is Zoe, who's read every book in the house.......twice.
I can hear the girls upstairs, bickering. Tom and Aunt Rogue, bickering, and pretty much everyone else in the house, bickering about one thing or another. Dad used to say it was my best quality, that no matter what I smiled and kept quiet.
I rub my sore hand. Starting a fight with Queenie, not my wisest decision, but a good time anyway. I don't think she wanted to show it, but I think she was impressed. At least I hope so, one day, and I would never say this out loud, I want to be just as good as her. Tom once told me that I already was, but that was before he was burdened with kids, and a house full of nutcases, and bills to pay.
I pull up my shirt, revealing a few previous scares, and some new ones. They don't hurt anymore. I pull my shirt back down, and race through two flights of steps. Carefully tiptoeing, I unlock the room where Rogue keeps all her important training stuff. An archery range, lots of knife targets, all kinds of stuff. My wall is off to the right. I'd asked her if I could keep my stuff down here so the others couldn't use it, and she agreed. Little did she know that I'd do this every time she was distracted. I slip on my knife belt, and carefully fill it with different sized knives. Annabeth taught me how to fill it, bigger in the back so they're easy to reach, and smaller in the front. Always pull it a notch tighter than comfortable, cause if it falls you'll lose a foot. Especially if you do the stuff I do.
I also put some extra knives in the pockets that line my legs. I like to pretend I'm Tris, and fighting to save my life. With a gun I'm just myself, and with a bow I'm Katniss.
Turning to a small glass room, I unlock the door with the hidden key the Rogue doesn't know I have. She keeps everything locked in case someone breaks in and tries to use our own weapon against us. Doing what her and Tom do, we have a lot of enemies.
I close the door tight behind me. It's a big room, takes up half the basement. It doubles for an archery and knife throwing range, the other half is full of more standard targets and a fighting mat the size of mine and Des's rooms put together. I look around before punching in my height, weight, age, and difficulty level in the panel next to the door. It beeps and counts down from three. I run to the center of the mat and take out my first knife just as it's saying zero.
A human shaped target swings out from the ceiling. I grunt and throw my knife while running toward it. The target goes back up, while the various machines will take out the knife, put in in a dispenser on the wall where I can get it if needed, then repairs the hole in the target. Two come out from behind the back wall. As swiftly as possible I reach behind me and rip a big knife out of my belt. It's a direct bulls eye. The next, I'm still running, so I'm closer. Using one of the smaller knives from the slits in my leggings, I hit right above the black dot painted in the center of the white canvas. I throw another from my belt, turning around and throwing it like a Frisbee. It hits the desired spot and disappears. The thing I like about this place, if you don't hit where you're supposed to, the target will never go away.
For another ten minutes I battle both moving and still bulls eyes. My belt empties quicker than I'd thought, but I don't miss anymore, so no need to go back and retrieve the ones I lost in the throwing. Groaning and grunting with every throw I finish my supply of knives just in time for the buzzer to go off. I run back to the panel and wait anxiously for the results. I'm already programed in expert mode, so I can't move up, but I can beat my high score. Accuracy, time, and number of targets hit all play a role in my score. My high is a 99.1%, that means I still can get 100%. I know it won't be this time, cause I missed one, but my time and number could bring the decimal up. The panel tests my endurance by flipping around numbers until finally my real score pops up.
I though I had it, but not this time. I didn't beat my percentage, but I did beat my time, which is good. I sigh and grab my knives before leaving the room. I'm too out of breath to do anything else, so I place my knives back on the wall. Making sure everything is locked and put away, I go back upstairs to help with lunch.