DON'T MISS

1- Opportunity

Maddie Dunir

I have never missed an opportunity in my life.

First place at my first-ever tennis match? Easy.

Finishing homework before the bell even rings? Innovative.

And right now, standing in the middle of the school's unused back courtyard at an hour no student should legally be conscious, I was lining up an arrow.

The target?

An apple.

Balanced very carefully on the head of my best friend.

"Okay," I said, lifting the bow with the kind of casual confidence that should probably be illegal. "Stay very still. You don't want this to end up like last time."

Macy nodded immediately.

Then, after a half-second of processing, she squeezed her eyes shut like that was somehow going to increase her life expectancy.

"I still think it went well last time," she said. "I mean, I survived."

"That's a low bar," I replied, adjusting my grip on the bow. "But yes. Congratulations on living."

Macy smiled anyway. She always did.

Macy is cute, ditsy, and loyal to a medically concerning degree. She trusts me with the kind of blind faith usually reserved for skydiving instructors and people who insist they can cut their own bangs.

I inhaled slowly.

Everything narrowed.

The courtyard disappeared.

Just the curve of the bow in my hand. The tension in the string. The weight of the arrow rested perfectly against my fingers. The apple's red skin catching the weak early morning light.

My baseball cap was backwards today—tennis habit—and a few dark waves slipped out from under it as I tilted my head.

Focus.

Release.

The arrow sliced through the air and drove straight through the exact center of the apple with a clean, satisfying thunk, embedding itself into the wooden board behind Macy.

"Oh my GOD," Macy shrieked, yanking the apple remains off her head. "YOU DID IT!"

"I always do it," I said smugly, lowering the bow. "Suck a big, fat one, Isaac Newton!"

We both started cheering like we hadn't just violated at least twelve school safety policies and possibly a few laws of common sense.

I walked forward, pulled the arrow from the board, and held it up triumphantly.

The apple was still perfectly skewered through the middle.

Beautiful.

That's when I heard it.

"Madison Ayla Dunir."

I slowly turned around.

Standing at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed so tightly I was honestly surprised she hadn't fused with herself.

The principal.

My mother.

My eyes slid shut.

Behind me, Macy made a soft, sympathetic noise.

"Ooo," she whispered. "Full government name."

"Macy Evelyn Hudgins."