“Hey!” Patrick smiled and waved. I managed a weak smile as I plopped down in the seat across from him, next to a thin Black boy with glasses. “We were looking for you last night. I thought maybe you went to bed early.”
“I did.” I eyed the area around Patrick, searching for his messenger bag full of snacks. Nothing.
“Same. My everything hurts.” He arched his back and winced as if to prove it. His eyes caught on something at the front of the bus. “Is that the guy who tried to rob me?”
“Yeah, he’s trying out.” I crossed my arms to hide my shaky hands.
“Good thing I left my wallet at the hotel,” Patrick grumbled. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, my brain too focused on hunger for conversation. Luckily Patrick seemed preoccupied with Edan.
The bus took us to a shooting range. SHOOT-EM-UP INDOOR/OUTDOOR SHOOTING RANGE, the sign said. I’d never even held a gun before, despite Texas’s reputation as a gun-happy state. Mom and Dad never owned one, thank god.
We only had three team leaders with us today, all male. Was there even one female team leader? I’d yet to see one.
One of the guys—the one who looked the youngest—waved to get our attention. “Hey, I’m Julian.” He pointed to the Latino guy to his left. “This is Andy.” He pointed to the white guy on his right. “And Liam. We’re evaluating you today. First thing—who here has shot a gun before?”
Several hands went up.
“You guys go with Andy.” About ten people broke away, leaving forty or so of us behind. Julian put his hand out, cutting us in half. “Everyone on this side, come with me. The rest of you are with Liam.”
I was on Julian’s side, so I followed him into the building. He stopped in the lobby, which had lots of posters of guns and several signs about safety. I liked the one that said PLEASE DON’T PLAY WITH YOUR GUN IN THE LOBBY. IT MAKES PEOPLE NERVOUS.
“We’re going to do a very brief safety and shooting lesson, and then you guys will fire a few rounds,” Julian said. “We’re going to have sharpshooter teams, so this is just to see if we should consider you for one of those. I’m going to need you to listen carefully to everything the employees tell you today. Remember, you already signed a form saying it’s not our fault if you get shot.” He grinned, and a few people laughed nervously.
“I’m going to be bad at this,” a girl whispered. I glanced over to see a redhead glancing nervously at a girl about my age. She had long light brown hair, impressive winged eyeliner, and an expression like she was so incredibly bored.
“Well, you should try your best, because the sharpshooter teams are the best,” the bored girl said.
“They are?” The redhead was worried now.
“Yeah. Sharpshooters are the best, then the elite ground teams are second, and then the regular ground teams are the worst. Those are the ones they don’t care if they die first.” The bored girl twisted a piece of hair around her finger. “That’s what I heard anyway.”
I turned away. I didn’t care what team I was on, as long as I made one.
An employee named Angela took us through some basic safety procedures, gave us a short lesson on how to load and shoot a gun, handed out safety glasses and earmuffs, and escorted us into individual booths. We were doing a practice round first, then we’d be judged on how well we hit the man-shaped targets in front of us.
The gun was heavier than I was expecting, and my hands were still shaking a little as I lifted it and aimed at the target. I tried to will my body still. I only needed it to cooperate for the rest of the day, and then I’d swallow my pride and ask Patrick for some food.
The people around me started firing, so I took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. The recoil wasn’t terrible, like Angela had said, but I still didn’t like the way each shot seemed to vibrate through my body. I felt unsteady on my feet by the time I’d emptied the chamber.
The paper man zipped along the track and stopped in front of me. I’d hit it three times, none of them within the white numbered circles.
Clearly I was not cut out for the sharpshooter team.
Angela reloaded my gun for me, and a new target appeared at the end of the lane. When he zipped toward me after I was done, I realized I’d done even worse this time. Two shots. One was almost inside the outermost circle, though.
Julian walked into my booth, glancing from me to the target. He’d been handsome from a distance, but up close he looked like a movie star. He had clear, perfect skin and dark brown eyes that seemed to smile even when his lips weren’t. His short, dark hair had a bit of red in it, and it fell right back into place when he ran a hand through it.
He was staring at me like he expected something of me, and I felt heat rise in my cheeks.
“What’s your number?” he asked after several awkward seconds.
“Oh.” I turned so he could see it. “One eighty-seven.”
He wrote something down on his clipboard, glancing back at the target as if to confirm I only hit it twice.
“Not so great, huh?” I asked with a nervous laugh. I pressed my lips together, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
He smiled at me. “It’s fine. First time.” He took a step out of my booth. “You can go get on the bus. Just leave the gun there.”
I quickly walked out of the booth, eager to put some distance between me and Julian. My face still felt warm. I didn’t know if he was really that hot or if I was getting delirious
