Jenson’s bright blue eyes came to rest on me, his mouth twisting into a smirk that seemed to mock both of us. Wonderful. Was it too late for me to dash over to join Delta instead? She hadn’t offered to partner with me even though she must have known it’d be required, so I didn’t figure she’d wanted the hassle, but she’d probably put up with me rather than make a scene out of it.
Of course, dealing with Jenson didn’t have to be any kind of scene either. As he hefted a bow of his own and sauntered over to me, I found my initial apprehension faded quickly.
Who the hell was this guy, really, other than one more hopeless victim in this bizarre place, trying to make himself feel a little bigger by cutting me down a peg? Maybe he didn’t like how I’d ended up here, but I was here now. I was going through everything the rest of them did. And he couldn’t claim I wasn’t committed when I’d decided I wasn’t giving up on getting at least one person other than me free from Roseborne’s torments.
Anything he said had way more to do with him than with me.
So, I stood my ground, gripping my bow and the arrow I’d picked up.
Jenson plucked an arrow of his own out of the bin. He cocked his head at me. “Still haven’t gotten your fill of the horror show, huh?”
“Still haven’t realized I’ve got bigger things to worry about than your opinion of me, huh?” I retorted. “It’s a little sad that you don’t have anything better to do than harass people who’ve never done anything to you.”
“Let’s not get into what I could say about someone whose life was so empty they decided to throw themselves into a godawful situation just for the hell of it.”
“You obviously don’t have a clue what it’s like to care about another person enough that you’d go through anything for them.”
Something flickered in his expression, a momentary tightening that might have been anger or pain or something else—I didn’t have time to tell. My off-the-cuff remark had hit harder than I’d expected. Then, for some reason, it brought a slanted smile to his face, hard around the edges but still genuine enough that it reminded me of that first moment I’d seen him, before he’d opened his mouth, when I’d admired his looks.
“No,” he said in an odd tone. “Obviously I don’t.” He motioned to the bow. “Are you going to shoot something with that thing or what?”
He was ready to get down to business now, was he? I raised the bow into the approximate position I thought I’d seen in movies. “Since I’ve never done this before, I think that’s up to you as much as it is to me.”
“Follow along, then.” Rather than lifting his bow right away, he fit the arrow into place first, the wooden shaft against the hollow in the curved wood, the nock against the string. “Get your arrow ready before anything else. Make sure it’s braced against the bow’s rest to guide your aim.”
I copied his movements, finding the arrow followed my intentions easily. Maybe I wouldn’t need all that much help after all. “And then?”
“Bring the rest up to eye level,” he said, demonstrating. “Sight along the arrow through the window above the rest. Pull back and release when you’re sure you’re pointing at what you want to hit.”
Jenson positioned himself sideways, left foot forward, head turned toward the target. With an air of total confidence, he drew back the string, paused half a beat to adjust his aim, and let the arrow fly. It whipped through the air and dug into the target’s second smallest ring with a thunk. He lowered the bow and dipped with a flourish of his free hand. “Remember that no applause is necessary.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t planning on offering any.”
I set my feet the way he had and tested the string. It took some muscle to haul it back, taut as it was. Squinting along the arrow through the upper part of the hollow, I lined the point up with the red center of the target. Tensing my fingers, I stretched the string a little farther—and then let go.
The arrow flew forward with a twang, and smacked into the very edge of the target.
“Well,” Jenson said with a little smirk, “at least you did hit the thing.”
I didn’t think I’d done that badly for my first try. “I was aiming at the center,” I said, motioning with the bow. “Is there some other trick you didn’t bother to tell me?”
“I figured with all those smarts you could figure it out yourself.” He waved to the bow. “Look at the shape of the rest. Would you expect the arrow to fly perfectly straight? Take the veer into account. And resist the urge to put more power in after you’ve already lined things up. Get over-ambitious and risk throwing things off.”
“Tips I could have used earlier,” I muttered, and grabbed another arrow. “Okay. The arrow rest is on the right side, so I want to aim a little to the left to balance things out?”
“What did I say about smarts?” Jenson said in a voice that sounded more sarcastic than complimentary.
“Oh, shut up.” I tugged back the string, tweaking my aim to compensate. The muscles in my shoulder twinged. Instinctively, I shifted to pull back farther—and Jenson touched my arm to stop me.
“Watch it,” he said quietly. He was standing close enough now that my skin tingled with the awareness of his presence. His fingers curved around my elbow so gently it was almost a caress. “Stay right here. Do you like what you see?”
I looked down the sight again and eased a smidge farther to the left. “I think so.” I’d have liked him a lot better if he handled me with this much consideration the rest of the time.
“Then just let it go.”
I opened my fingers. The arrow whipped through the air and struck the border between the second ring and the bullseye. Jenson stepped back with a low whistle. “Thanks all to my excellent teaching ability, clearly.”
“Clearly,” I said dryly, but the success had given my spirits a triumphant boost. This might be one class here I could actually enjoy. And something in his smile felt a little warmer now, or at least appreciative, as if I might have managed to knock a crack in the chilly attitude he’d had toward me. “What now? We take turns?”
“Why don’t we make it five and five? Just clear your arrows when you’ve finished your shots.”
He propped himself against the wall behind me to watch as I worked through my next three arrows. I made the same mistake of letting myself pull harder on the string at the last second, and that arrow flew right past the target to rap against the wall. The other two times, I took more care, and those hit the second ring. Next time I’d get the bullseye at least once, I told myself as I loped over to retrieve my arrows and Jenson’s from his initial shot.
While he took his turn, I glanced around at our classmates. They were operating under the same rule, five and then five, launching their arrows and switching positions with much more efficiency. Over at her station, Delta managed to land a bullseye. She let out a little cheer, but on her next shot, a wobble ran through her body. Her jaw clenched as she stiffened her stance in response, but the arrow scraped the floor a few feet in front of the target.
Jenson had just returned from reclaiming his arrows when Professor Roth clapped his hands. “You’re all warmed up now. Time to up the ante. Partners, take your positions.”