Author's Note: Hey everyone who is reading this, Giggles here. This is my third story and one that I hope to actually continue. I'm hoping it's going to be a good one, and I just wanted to let you all know that this is also on Quizilla on my account, so you know that it's not stolen or anything. If you have any constructive criticism, suggestions on characters or plots, or anything you want to tell me, go on ahead. Enjoy!

Rayne Castle 12:50 pm

Ring! Ring! Shrieks and squeals, yells and shouts fill the halls as students rip their notebooks and worksheets apart. One student makes out with their partner against the lockers, another hugs their friends, one plans a party, and another flips off a teacher while shouting vulgar words. The teacher makes a move towards him, but he says "Its summer! You can't give me a detention!" before running off to his friends. The attacked teacher looks after him with disbelief, then shrugs her shoulders, realizing what he said is true. Besides, she's not going to be here next year. I heard she's moving to Alaska to learn how to fly airplanes.

Me, I'm off in the corner watching everyone. I blend into the crowd and don't talk very much. In my group of friends, I'm the quiet, brainy one. I shake my head and laugh to myself, watching three students (otherwise known as "The Sails") graffiti the walls and doors. My auburn bangs fall in front of my green eyes as I throw a notebook over my shoulder, hitting the superintendent of the schools by accident. I slowly turn my head when he starts freaking out at everyone, trying to figure out who threw the notebook. Nobody knows it was me though. Sometimes I love being invisible.

Jade Amorosino 4:21 pm

"Hey! That girl stole my wallet!" Shit. Someone caught me. Act casual, if they start running at me, I'll book it. I hear footsteps thumping closer to me. Time for me to fly. My old, brown high top Chuck Taylor's land in puddles from last night's storm. Eww, now my feet are all wet. Oh well, I have to keep moving or I'll get caught. I can't go back to jail, it's way too easy to break out of.

I run into the crowd at Times Square and slow down. Pulling up my hood, I slouch down, hoping to lose the victim of my theft and the cops who are following me. I keep walking through the throngs of people as I get farther from those chasing me. I smirk and turn into an alleyway that I usually hide in.

I basically know everything there is to know about good ol' NYC. Alleyways, who to talk to when in trouble, what gangs to stay away from, where their hideouts are, the policemen and what they look like when undercover, on and on and on. I know how to hide, fight, lie, steal (sometimes), seduce, and get my own way. I'm the best unknown actor of all time. Plus, I'm the hottest homeless chick on the face of the planet.

Mike Cross 2:30 am

Darkness surrounds me while green numbers run across the screen, illuminating my face. The numbers 0 and 1 are my only friends in the world, the only ones I can trust. Nobody else understands me, or tells me the truth. I feel safe and secure with these green numbers, invincible, like no one can touch me.

You know, it's amazing what one can do with a computer, knowledge, and the internet. You can figure out so much about the world you live in with it: people, places, things the government doesn't want you to know, the list goes on. The good thing is that I've never been caught doing it.

"You done yet?" I smile and laugh to myself. This guy hired me to hack into the bank and take money from the mayor, yet again. He's a regular client of mine and pays handsomely. Annoying as hell, but pays handsomely.

"Don't worry; nobody knows what we're doing." I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and listen to the music of the computer whirring, beeping, tapping, and clicking. Then, something strange happens; the computer screen turns red and starts smoking. I try to move but can't get out of the chair. I hear my client turn and run out of the room, accompanied by the sound of sirens in the distance. I've been caught.

Drake Grigoryeva 6:02 pm

I toss my sweaty, moppy hair out of my eyes while planting a firm kick on my opponent's chest. In slow motion he falls and my heart beat is replaced by the roar of the crowd. The referee takes my hand and holds it up, the universal sign that I beat the shit out of the other guy. I can't get enough of this fame, knowing that I can win and beat someone if I just do what I love to do.

I have a black belt in Karate, a brown belt in Shintaido, and plan on getting a belt in other forms of martial arts. I love performing martial arts, it gives you discipline, integrity, and you know how to protect yourself. That and you look pretty fit…well at least I do. I take the guys hand and help him up from his crumpled position. We bow to each other and he walks off the mat to fix his bloody nose. I remain in the center, as the center of attention, and prepare myself for the next battle.

"Mr. Grigoryeva I presume?" I turn to a man standing next to me. Is he taking the spotlight off me? With his black tuxedo, looking like Will Smith in the u Men In Black /u movies, he stands tall as if I'm inferior. Ha, we'll just see about that. I nod and start to fear that he might kill me. I look him over looking for a weapon of some kind and he places his hands on hips, showing off his gun in the holster. Wow, he has nothing to hide. "Please come with me, Drake." Without waiting for an answer, he takes me by the arm and walks me out of the arena.

Skyler Browns 5:34 am

I leave the house quickly and quietly, feeling the cool tiles under my bare feet. "Shh." I say to our German Shepherd dog, Duke, when he looks up at me. He falls back into his comatose-like slumber and I continue to walk past him. I open the door with a creak and grab my sneakers. The cool air greets me and I close the screen door. I sit down on the steps to the door and put on my sneakers.

The thing I love about living in Australia is the weather. I can just come out at 5 am in nothing but a pair of swim trunks. My family and I moved here from Detroit when I was about 5 ½ and have lived here ever since. It's so much fun here, the surf, the sand, the sun. Paradise. Perfection. Amazing.

I jump on my skateboard and grab my surfboard. I leave through out the gates and make my way towards the beach, which, I have now decided, is going to be my final resting place. The smell of the ocean reaches my nose and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore hits my ears. My previous drowsiness is now replaced with pure adrenaline for the surf. When I arrive to my heaven, my jaw drops to the ground in horror.

Ashley Grigoryeva 4:45 pm

"Please let us win please let us win please let us win…" Our voices all become one; all 14 of us Varsity cheerleaders. We sit in a row in our seats, crossed arms, holding each other's hands. We sit there repeating those words with our heads down praying, hoping, wishing. If we win this competition, we go to regionals. If we win regionals, we go to nationals. It's all we've ever hoped for, it's our first year we have made it this far.

I know this probably sounds pretty Bring It On-ish, but this is my life. To put it mathematically, my lifecheerleading. My twin brother is named Drake and he's big in martial arts. Dad always wanted him to go to football, but Drake is headstrong and knows what he wants. Seriously, how many girls can say that their brother has his black belt in Karate and a brown belt in Shintaido? Not many.

Anyways, we sit here repeating 'please let us win' when all of a sudden, I feel something drip down the back of my neck. I break apart our rope of prayer as I call it, and feel my head. Something wet and cold is now seeping through my curls that I took so long to make. I slowly realize that it's someone's slushy, and it's ruining my cheerleading uniform. I become angry for a split second and then get over it; I don't want to risk my team going to nationals. When I realize who did this to me though, oh will they pay.