Like Air.

Kirk walked down the sloping hill behind the school, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on his ankles and the smell of the dark green grass. It was after school, in the late afternoon. The sun was a powerful red disk in the sky, radiating comfortable heat for those who were outside to bask in it. Clovers sprouted in numerous patches; bees ignored him and continued with their endless labor; off near the woods the cicadas were already chirping in choruses. Kirk could smell fresh hay. To the left of the school campus, horses were grazing in a pasture.

Reaching the bottom of the hill, Kirk approached a cluster of kids, and a volunteered supervisor, drawing back arrows and releasing them, striking their targets with affirmative thuds; the archery club. Most, he noted, were skilled with a bow. Several arrows dug their heads into the wooden targets with deadly accuracy. And, logically, they should be; archery is a dangerous sport.

Casually, Kirk picked up one of the bows supplied by the school, grabbed an arrow that had missed its mark and fallen on the ground, and he walked to the nearest target. Three others were using it; a boy with bright red hair and a girl with bleached blonde hair were both spectating as the third person, a girl with black and blue hair pulled back into a ponytail, was preparing to shoot. She, who Kirk recognized as Kirsten, had her bow taunt and was about to send the arrow flying into the bull’s eye, when she saw him in the corner of her eye and let go of her hold on the arrow in surprise. Off angle, it dug into the ground threateningly close to her foot.

“You got somewhere you’re supposed to be, Kirk?” she growled, irritated that she had slipped up and almost hit herself.

“I thought I might try out some ranging,” he replied coolly.

“This isn’t a game,” Kirsten snapped, “All it takes is one bad shot and someone’s hurt. Or dead.”

“The same with kitchen knives,” he said, “but there’s no blood on my hands.”

Kirsten frowned at him disapprovingly, the look in her eyes making him feel uneasy. They were an odd shade of purple. As he began to load the bow, a mild breeze passed through them.

The arrow snapped in half.

Kirk blinked at the broken arrow lying at his feet, then up towards Kirsten. He had a feeling that she did it, somehow. “Oh, look at that,” she mocked, but not in a mean way, “It seems that you have a little problem.”

Kirk shrugged good-naturedly. “I guess I’ll have to get another one, then.” He reached a hand out to Kirsten’s arrow that was still jutting out from the ground at an angle. “Do you mind?” he asked.

“How ‘bout it, Kirst? I’d love to say ‘I told you so’,” piped the blonde.

Kirsten shrugged at me. “Go ahead. Prove me wrong.”

Kirk uprooted the arrow and loaded it in the bow. “Don’t worry,” he promised, “I know what I’m doing.” And on that note, he released his grip on the arrow. Less than a second later, the four heard it connect to the wooden target with a satisfying thud. It was slightly off the third ring, but still very impressive.

Kirsten folded her arms and nodded. “Not too shabby.”

“I try.”

They began challenging him, putting more and more distance between them and the target board. He challenged them too, seeing how well they could really shoot. No one ever missed the board; sometimes one of them would hit an outer ring, but nothing other than that.

After stepping back a foot for the fifth time, the blonde, Laura, interrupted. “This is child’s play,” she snorted.

Ross, the red-headed guy said, “I know something we could try,” he said with a wicked grin. “I dare someone to catch a flying arrow. Blindfolded.” It was something he’d seen a magician do on Ripley’s Believe it or Not. But he was sure that it wouldn’t require a professional to do it.

“I’ll do it,” Kirk smirked. “That’s nothing.”

“If you’re so sure of yourself,” Kirsten said wryly, “I’d be more than happy to be the one shooting.”

“Kirsten’s the best archer in the club,” Laura warned him.

She shrugged. “I’ve been shooting since I was eight. It’s my family’s sport,” she added.

“Same here, explaining my awesome skills,” he joked. After taking several paces away from the group, he tied the blindfold around his eyes. “Let’s do this.”

Kirsten readied herself drawing back the arrow and straightening her angle. Taking a deep sigh, she mentally crossed her fingers and released.

The arrow grazed through his fingers. Kirk cried out in pain.

The three rushed to him. “Are you okay?” Kirsten was the first to ask.

“I’m fine,” he said, gritting his teeth. “It hurt like hell, but I’m fine.” Ross had gotten a first-aid kit and opened it, looking for some bandages anti-bacteria spray. “It’s okay, really,” he insisted.

Kirsten studied his hand. There was no evidence that the arrow had cut him, but she was sure it had. Wiping away some of the blood, she found a pink spread of healed flesh were the cut should’ve been.

“It’s not serious,” he said. “I drew some blood, but it’s just a minor cut.”

“But the cut, it’s healed-

“Why don’t we try it again?” Kirk interrupted, somehow making it polite.

Laura was doubtful. “You might really hurt yourself this time,” she said.

“I made a mistake- but I can do it, I know I can,” he said.

“If you insist…” Kirsten decided.

Back in their positions, Kirsten reloaded her bow while Kirk tied the blindfold around his eyes again. More hesitantly, she stood there, bow poised, ready to release the arrow. But she wasn’t so sure this time. Muttering something incoherently under her breath, she loosened her grip, her fingers twitching. Her eyes fluttered closed immediately, fearing the worst.

It was quiet. After a bit, curiosity enveloped her and she cautiously opened her eyes.

He had caught it. The arrow remained frozen in his hold, snatched from the air. Blood from the cut stained the middle of it from his touch. And then she noticed other onlookers; some of the archers had stopped shooting and paused to stare at the arrow in his hand. After the shocked silence had passed, a light clapping spread among the group. Then it rose to cheering and individual compliments shouted out. Kirk removed the blindfold, grinning madly.

One of the other archers, Katara Yasin (Buckner’s girlfriend) approached him. “Brilliant performance,” she said, clapping him on the back.

“Thank you.”

“You’re a new face,” Katara remarked. “What brings you to the archers’ corner?”

He had almost forgotten the reason he came. “Oh! Um,” he muttered, trying to recollect his thoughts, “I’m… looking for a… an archer by the name of Tinkerbelle?” he asked.

Katara frowned to herself. “No,” she said, shaking her head slightly, “I don’t believe I know anyone named Tinkerbelle here.”

“It’s her school username,” Kirk added.

“I wouldn’t know, love, I don’t go on the school forum much.” Then she called out to Kirsten. “D’ya know anyone with a username called ‘Tinkerbelle’?”

“A school username?”

“Yes.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t know; I never go on there; hardly anyone does- can you blame them? A school chat forum is pretty gay.”

Katara asked around, but no one knew who Tinkerbelle was. She remained a mystery to him.

His searching over, he put the bow back, turned towards the sun, and headed to the boys’ dorm room building.