know that my skills won’t change in only a few hours. Still, I put so much effort into each shot that I want the gratification of success. All I’m getting are the thunks against the side of the boards.
“Don’t rush,” Emily scolds me. “You have the time. Aim now. Take half a moment more to make sure you’re doing it right. Your hand will begin to remember eventually. And remember to practice in your free time,” she adds.
“I will,” I swear.
“EVERYONE, IT’S TIME FOR DINNER!” Big Sal’s voice shouts. “GET YOUR KNIVES. WE’RE HAVING STEAK!” Everyone immediately drops what they’re doing, pulls out knives from various hiding places, and runs towards the center.
“Not bad for your second day,” Emily says, pulling a knife from her breast pocket. “Practice enough and you could be able to get relative accuracy within the week. Eat up.”
I rush toward the line, pulling out my food knife from my bag. I spear a piece of meat and end up sitting next to Nathan again.
“Hey, Molly.
“Um. Hi.”
“How’s your training going?” he asks.
“Great,” I say.
“Learned anything useful yet?”
“Sure.”
“Did Mike do the balance spiel?”
“Oh. Yes.Is that a thing that he usually does?”
“Yeah, he’s done it to everyone he’s trained on their first day. but Mike’s a nut, so don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, all right.”
I feel that I should continue the conversation, but I’m not sure what to say next, so I only continue eating, hoping that I don’t seem cold and aloof.
“So, what are you doing after dinner?”
“Practicing, I guess, so that Emily isn’t after my neck.”
Nathan laughs.
“Of course, I should have known. You want help?”
“Help? Oh, um...sure.” I prefer solitude, but if I accept this invitation, I hope that I’ll come off as a warmer person. “I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble, or…”
“Nah, I don’t have much to do anyway. I’d be glad to help you out.”
“Oh. Thanks then,” I smile.
“I know I’m not Emily, but it can’t hurt you.”
“No, I guess it can’t. Thank you. Um. Really.”
After we eat, we go back out to the Field of the Fallen.
“Alright, show me how you shoot.”
I aim the crossbow at Bob’s chest. I never realized how strange it is to be watched, or even just to be with another human being. I had gotten accustomed to the company of waves and empty wine bottles.
I aim carefully and let the bolt go, but to my disappointment, the bolt completely misses him and lands off to the side.
“I swear I usually shoot better than this,” I say in a statement that is so unbased, I almost feel guilty for it. I pull out a second bolt and shoot it with the same result. To my disgust, my cheeks redden as I pull out a third one, thinking, this one better land. It only hits the edge of the board.
“Well, you’ve only had these for two days, so it’s perfectly fine. I couldn’t hit the board at all for almost two weeks.”
I’m pretty sure that he’s lying to make me feel better, and as much as I resent that, I tell enough lies myself to not question it.
Nathan pulls out his own crossbow.
“Watch how I keep my hand.”
He kneels and cocks the crossbow. His technique differs slightly from Emily’s, primarily in the curve of his hand. The bolt buries itself where the heart would have been. He nods at my crossbow.
“Your turn.”
I shoot. It skims the side again.
“You’re overthinking it. Step back a little and focus on the target,” Nathan says. I shoot again. The bolt lands in the board, around where the knee would be.
“Yes,
“Don’t rush,” Emily scolds me. “You have the time. Aim now. Take half a moment more to make sure you’re doing it right. Your hand will begin to remember eventually. And remember to practice in your free time,” she adds.
“I will,” I swear.
“EVERYONE, IT’S TIME FOR DINNER!” Big Sal’s voice shouts. “GET YOUR KNIVES. WE’RE HAVING STEAK!” Everyone immediately drops what they’re doing, pulls out knives from various hiding places, and runs towards the center.
“Not bad for your second day,” Emily says, pulling a knife from her breast pocket. “Practice enough and you could be able to get relative accuracy within the week. Eat up.”
I rush toward the line, pulling out my food knife from my bag. I spear a piece of meat and end up sitting next to Nathan again.
“Hey, Molly.
“Um. Hi.”
“How’s your training going?” he asks.
“Great,” I say.
“Learned anything useful yet?”
“Sure.”
“Did Mike do the balance spiel?”
“Oh. Yes.Is that a thing that he usually does?”
“Yeah, he’s done it to everyone he’s trained on their first day. but Mike’s a nut, so don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, all right.”
I feel that I should continue the conversation, but I’m not sure what to say next, so I only continue eating, hoping that I don’t seem cold and aloof.
“So, what are you doing after dinner?”
“Practicing, I guess, so that Emily isn’t after my neck.”
Nathan laughs.
“Of course, I should have known. You want help?”
“Help? Oh, um...sure.” I prefer solitude, but if I accept this invitation, I hope that I’ll come off as a warmer person. “I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble, or…”
“Nah, I don’t have much to do anyway. I’d be glad to help you out.”
“Oh. Thanks then,” I smile.
“I know I’m not Emily, but it can’t hurt you.”
“No, I guess it can’t. Thank you. Um. Really.”
After we eat, we go back out to the Field of the Fallen.
“Alright, show me how you shoot.”
I aim the crossbow at Bob’s chest. I never realized how strange it is to be watched, or even just to be with another human being. I had gotten accustomed to the company of waves and empty wine bottles.
I aim carefully and let the bolt go, but to my disappointment, the bolt completely misses him and lands off to the side.
“I swear I usually shoot better than this,” I say in a statement that is so unbased, I almost feel guilty for it. I pull out a second bolt and shoot it with the same result. To my disgust, my cheeks redden as I pull out a third one, thinking, this one better land. It only hits the edge of the board.
“Well, you’ve only had these for two days, so it’s perfectly fine. I couldn’t hit the board at all for almost two weeks.”
I’m pretty sure that he’s lying to make me feel better, and as much as I resent that, I tell enough lies myself to not question it.
Nathan pulls out his own crossbow.
“Watch how I keep my hand.”
He kneels and cocks the crossbow. His technique differs slightly from Emily’s, primarily in the curve of his hand. The bolt buries itself where the heart would have been. He nods at my crossbow.
“Your turn.”
I shoot. It skims the side again.
“You’re overthinking it. Step back a little and focus on the target,” Nathan says. I shoot again. The bolt lands in the board, around where the knee would be.
“Yes,
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