"You're kidding, right?"
Axel is always one for surprises, but I wasn't expecting this.
"Never done this before?" he asks. I shake my head.
I didn't expect he'd be taking me to learn archery. The one sport I have called ridiculous for years. And the one thing I didn't expect this camp to have. Actually, what does this camp not have?
"How big is this place?" I ask. "Every day a new section pops up."
"Oh, this camp is full of surprises," he says, walking over to grab a bow and a quiver of arrows. In front of us stand multiple targets with their bright blue, red, and yellow rings and a small forest yards away.
"And you're sure one of them," I mumble. He glances at me but says nothing, placing the quiver by my feet.
"Archery is different than other sports," Axel says, picking up the bow and locking in the arrow, holding his arms up into the correct position. "It's not about defeating others. It's not even about winning. It's all about you and your target." As he says that, he releases the arrow and it flies straight ahead, hitting the yellow center. My jaw drops.
"Hold up here, Katniss Everdeen," I say, walking towards him and making him chuckle. "How long have you been doing this?"
"Not that long. I'm just good at it." I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Do you want to learn or not?
"I think I'll pass," I say, holding up a hand. "Archery's not really my thing...more like my sister's."
"Really?" he asks. "And you never thought to try it out?"
I kick a small rock to the side. "You already know I'm not one for sports. Which is strange because she played almost every one when we were growing up."
"What, did it make you feel bad?" he asks. My lips curl in amusement that he's interested in this conversation.
"Well, what do you think? She played every sport, which made her my dad's ideal child," I answer quietly. "It's not that I'm jealous. I wish I was more like her when I was younger. It's stupid, I know."
"Not really," he replies. "No one wants to be a loser."
I smack his arm. "Did you just call me a loser?"
"No, I would never," he replies, his white teeth showing as he smiles. "Really though, why did you feel you had to be just like your sister? You have a lot going for you."
I fall silent for a moment, contemplating. "I guess it had less to do with her and more to do with my dad. I wanted him to like me as much as my sister. He went to every one of her games, he always supported her, and they could talk for hours. Our relationship was never like that."
We are quiet after that, as if each of us were thinking about something similar.
"Want to learn how to shoot this arrow now?"
I stare at his waiting expression and give in. "Fine. Teach me."
He hands me the bow, which I realize is much heavier than it looks. I hold the arrow in my left hand, and Axel stand behind me. His hands come over mine, guiding me on how to hold the bow correctly. I can smell the strong cologne on his neck, and it makes me go weak slightly.
"Listen to exactly what I say," he tells me. He angles my arms and head into the proper form, and I shift around for a while until he says I have it correct. The arrow zips through the air when I release it, making me shriek, and it pierces the blue area of the target. I stand in shock for a moment as I realize it actually hit the target board.
"Not bad at all, Whitney," Axel says, chuckling. He takes the bow and a new arrow and makes me watch him again.
When it's my turn I release the arrow I'm positive I'll get it in the center. Seven tries afterwards, however, my dreams are definitely still a fantasy, as they all landed on varying sides of the target, some even having sailed into the woods to never be seen again.
"Great, another sport to check off the list," I mumble, slumping to the ground in exhaustion. Axel lets out a breath and walks towards me until he's looking down at my face.
"Whitney, where did you get it in your head that you become good at something after fifteen minutes? Success takes years and years of hard work and dedication. It takes working until you don't even know what that means anymore."
"Fine, knower of all things," I grumble, growing tired of his vague and inspirational speeches. "I quit."
***
"What are you thinking about?" Martina asks with a chuckle as she tidies up her clothes. She has a habit of throwing them in a corner and never folding them.
"Oh nothing," I reply. I lift my knees up and place my hands behind my head as I stare at the ceiling.
"I don't believe you," she answers, chucking a lacy black bra onto her bed as she cleans. It makes my baby blue one seem so childlike.
"I have a question for you," I say, using it as a way to get out of talking about me.
"Do you like Austin?" I ask and then add, "You seem smilier whenever you're around him."
"He's nice, but as I've said before, he's not my type." She busies herself with folding her shirts.
"Oh...does he have a girlfriend?"
"No, not really..." she replies. "It's confusing."
I sit up on my bed, folding my hands in my lap. "What do you mean?"
She puts down her clothes and sighs, getting up to sit on the end of her bed. "I don't know how to explain this, but I'm not..."
It all begins to make sense. He's not my type. "You're not straight?"
Her brown eyes stare up into mine, the simple look confirming my statement. "Yes." She plays with her hands. "When people in my grade found out I was bi, everything just went downhill from there. It's like no one can even fathom an LGBT person in my little, close-minded town."
"You know I won't judge you for that," I say, and she smiles meekly. "But I feel you on the school part."
"Wait, what do you mean?" she questions.
"High school was terrible for me too." I fiddle with the drawstring on my black sweatshirt.
"What happened to you?" she asks.
"For all four years, I never failed to go without some sort of embarrassment or insult being hurled at me. And gym class was the worst. The fucking worst."
Thanks to Willow.
"It's horrible, but you get through it, you know?" she says optimistically. "Look at us now, we're on our way to having abs and high school is behind us. We don't have to go back ever again."
"Yeah, you're right." I give her a hug, and her arms wrap around my shoulders. A few moments later, we let go.
"Come on, we have a meeting to get to," she says, standing up and hunting around for her sneakers underneath the remaining pile of clothes on the ground.
I haven't walked through the doors of Room 100 in a while, and it brings back memories from the first day I stepped here, an anxious mess. While the other girls are still filing in, I scan the room and find Willow in the corner, her arms tightly folded across her chest and her gaze set on the ground.
"Martina," I say, tapping her shoulder and walking farther away from where Willow is. "Do you know anything else about Willow?"
She rests her hand on the wooden wall and thinks for a moment. "What do you want to know?"
I shrug. "Do you know any private information about her?" I sound nosy, but better that than clueless.
"Her father died of a heart attack."
My eyes widen. "Whenâwhen did that happen?"
"Right after sophomore year. Adriana was never home because she was trying to comfort Willow. It was pretty tragic for her."
"Why are you so curious about her?" Martina inquires. I clear my throat.
"It's complicatedâoh wait, there's Bob and Cindy," I say as they walk into the room and the double doors bang shut behind them. Martina doesn't believe me until she sees Bob and his unmistakably large and off-putting arm muscles.
"Good evening, girls!" Cindy cheerfully chirps. We mumble an unenthusiastic response.
"Congratulations on making it over halfway through this camp," Bob says, placing his hands behind his back. "You've all made remarkable progress, and we hope you have a different outlook on exercise."
"But now the game changes," Cindy says with a smile. "You're not going to be ranked withinyour team anymore. Instead, you'll be ranked collectively from one to fifteen. The girl who is able to secure the top spot at the beginning of the final week will receive the camp prize."
A chorus of ooh's runs through the group.
"How will we know the ranking isn't biased?" Cynthia asks, her voice sour.
"We have a points system, so don't worry. Some girls in this camp are more ahead than others, and it's very evident to us as professionals," Cindy says.
Bob pulls up the list on the large screen in the front of the room. I brace myself, praying I'm not anywhere in the tens.
"Oh my gosh, you're number three!" Martina squeals. My head jolts up, and I read the top five names.
"And you're in the top five too!"
The past two times I've been number two out of the group, falling short of the number one spot to Willow, and now it's the same thing again. I reach over to give Martina a hug and notice Cynthia is fuming with anger over her fourth place.
And she's staring me down too. How pleasant.
"Alright, we hope this gives you a boost of motivation!" Bob booms, clapping his hands together. "Now scram!" He doesn't have to ask twice, as all fifteen us make a beeline to the doors. Martina gestures me in the direction of another girl I've seen her hanging around lately, but someone catches my eye. At the of the hall, exiting the gym, is Axel and his eyes are locked on my own. I dart my gaze between Martina and him and wonder if I should go talk to him.
"Hey, look, I'll come join you guys in a few, but I just gotta go do something real quick, okay?" Martina hardly notices me, waving me off to my freedom, and I'm grateful she isn't a naturally nosy person. I wait for the cluster of girls to exit the building and head off down the hallway, feeling my heart beat faster with each step of my sneakers against the floor.
I stop a foot away from him, not wanting to move any farther, because his sweatpants are riding dangerously low and my heart is beating dangerously fast.
"Congratulations," he says, breaking the silence. He leans against the wall by the door. "You're ranked third."
"Thanks," I reply, digging my hands into my sweatshirt pocket. If tension was tangible, I would imagine it feels like a dense, hazy fog on a late August day. It doesn't help that we're now inches apart, and I can feel it radiating off him. "Axel, I need to tell you something."
"Go ahead," he says, lifting his back off the wall.
"I can't do this whole thing with you. This whole back and forth, hot and cold shit." When was there only centimeters between us? "You keep pushing me, and I'll explode, because that's exactly who I am."
"You won't explode." I almost want to laugh, but then I feel his hands move around my waist and push me against the wall in front of me. He leans in closer, our bodies separated by millimeters. "Trust me when I say it all has to do with me."
If I won't explode, my heart surely will with this proximity. His hands rest against the tops of my hips and his chest is touching mine, yet I'm not worrying if someone might walk by and see us, and I'm surely not telling him to get away from me.
I think I'm becoming the main character of that trashy book Poppy was talking about.
"Would it make me sound slightly crazy if I said I kind of really like you already?"
"Extremely." I place a hand against the hard planes of his chest. "You kind of come off like you hate me. And well, everyone."
"Maybe I should work on that..." We're both breathing slowly now, and I can feel his heartbeat against my hand, which is much more relaxed than my erratic one. I think we're going to kiss, just like that time in his room, but then something knocks against the inside of my head.
Common sense, that's her name.
"We shouldn't do this." I move out from underneath him and take several steps back. "Not when someone could see us. And when you're doing it to make me forget the whole point of this conversation."
"Well, that wasn't entirely the idea, but..." He trails off, looking away, while my jaw drops.
"You asshole." It comes off in more of a joking manner, because if I hadn't liked what he had just done, I would've smacked him two minutes ago. He smiles, his lips pulling enough so that a faint dimple appears in one of his cheeks. "I have to go, Axel. In the meantime, maybe you can work on your ways of showing how much you 'kind of like me.'"
"For you, I might try," he jokes, although a part of me believes that statement is sincere.