"Let's practice a bit now," Luke whispered in my ear. I glanced at the clock. 10:36.

       "Now?" I loudly whispered, clearly annoyed.

       "It'll help us at night fighting. And help you with shooting guns."

       "Fine!" I said, jumping out of my bed, grabbing my RidgeField Riptide's sweatshirt from last year's summer swim team. It was chilly out for being now a few days into June.

       "I'm freaking horrible at shooting!" I said after missing several despite the motion lights lining the perimeter.

       "Just learn from the best! The best at sniping, Hypersniper!" Luke yelled in my ear.

       "Shut up will you? Why are you calling yourself that?" I asked him.

       "My old YouTube channel. I was Hypersniper. And says the guy who calls himself Nitro!"

       Maybe I have referred to myself as that. A few dozen times that week. Day.

       "It doesn't matter!" I told him.

       "Good. Then get back to shooting practice!"

     And we did. Until my annoyed "Ughhhhh"s woke up Michael and threatened to kill us for screaming at 1:14 in the morning. 1:14! Are you kidding me? Practicing shooting. I really need some sleep-