It was the last day before the cruise. The last day of freedom. The last day a teenager could really run free before being locked up and stored away in a ship for a week.

It was raining outside. Not exactly ideal conditions to be practicing parkour, but James Hamish figured it would help his balance. He'd become fairly skilled in the rain; the last time he twisted his ankle was months ago, and it had fully healed.

James ran in sweats and a T-shirt. His ideal training clothes. From first glance, one might be led to believe that James was actually running just like everyone else in the morning, the only difference being that he was running unusually earlier than anyone else. Four o'clock to be exact. James was sure that he wouldn't therefore attract the attention of little kids and cops. It was just the right time so there would be no drunk drivers for cops to watch out for, and too early for parents to be worried about their kids copying that "irresponsible teenager."

It was true, he had badly damaged his right leg while practicing once, which explained his natural limp. His uncle, Detective West Courier (a man blessed with two last names), was surely surprised to find his nephew limping back to his door with a broken leg, and even moreso when he found out that he had broken his leg out "jogging".

In any case, that was years ago, and he was much more skilled now, as he easily cleared a five-foot wall and landed in someone's back yard. That was another advantage at being up at four o'clock. People were rarely up at that time, and even if they were up, they'd be too dazed to get a good look at anyone in their yard and might dismiss it as having been a memory from a dream.

James kicked off a wall to scale an eight footer. He himself was nearing six feet in height, and by standing on tip-toes alone could not have easily climbed over the wall.

"It should be useful," James thought to himself when he first started the "sport". "It should be useful, though I have no idea what for."

James was back on a sidewalk after venturing through a few more back yards. He checked his watch. It was digital and he never wore it except for training, because he didn't like how it looked. His dark brown hair bobbed against his head as he continued jogging and checking his watch. Four-thirty. He had to shower and such before it was time to leave for the cruise. James took a right and scaled another wall, walking along the top of it until he came back into his own back yard. He jumped the gate to get into the front yard and entered his home like a proper gentleman, soaked with a disgusting mixture of sweat and rainwater. His outdoor sneakers were lined with mud and dog feces. He smelled as nice as his uncle's breath, as his uncle had not yet brushed his teeth.

"Break anything?" his uncle asked, staring at the morning newspaper. The wet casing lay on the table. It was the weather page today, as if his uncle couldn't tell what the weather was like outside.

"You shouldn't run in the rain. You might catch a cold," his uncle told him.

"That hasn't been scientifically proven," said James as he removed his once-white shoes. He wiped the water off of his face to find that the gesture had only succeeded in making his face wetter.

"I'm taking a shower," James reported. His uncle, West Courier, nodded and sipped some black coffee, that had effectively stained his teeth over the years, though he managed to hide it with teeth-whitening kits. He and James had gotten into an argument about whether coffee or tea was better. West sided with coffee.

"I packed your stuff already," West barked to James.

"Thanks, dad."

The door shut. The sound of the shower was audible throughout the quiet and dark household. Bullet, James's dog, had just awaken and rushed downstairs to give West Courier the usual greetings, characterized by jumping on the table, slipping on the wet cloth, and giving West's face various licks until West placed Bullet back on the ground. West took a cup of water and walked outside. About a minute later, he filled Bullet's bowl with fresh rainwater. Bullet showed his eternal gratefulness by running outside and gathering the water on his coat before West chased him back into the house. The cage was set next to the luggage, all of which was to the side of the front door and ready to depart. Bullet was evidently coming to the cruise as well.

West seemed satisfied with his paper and folded it back up. James rushed downstairs, having finished his shower, and hugged Bullet. The little beagle was happy to see anyone and everyone, and would therefore find himself at home on the cruise.

"Ready?" West asked.

James grabbed a banana and devoured it quickly. He nodded after a short fifteen second interval consisting of digestion.

"Let's go."

West grabbed the rest of the luggage and piled it into the car. James let Bullet into the cage. As West went to lock the door, James let out a sneeze. Bullet barked, and West said with an air of triumph, "I told you so."