Scream

Reyna Copulas

"Escape Plan was a success," Enzo notes, coming up to a targeting booth. 

"What's this?" he questions the booth runner.

"Ah, I'm glad you ask," the woman says with bravado and a grand spread of her arms. Enzo and I exchange glances and I stifle a laugh. "Test your primal skills in this challenging booth. Throw knives, shoot arrows, and blow darts close to the target. The booth is run in challenges..." two more couples approach, interested in the game. "The first tier is the blow dart gun, the second is archery, and the third is knife throwing. Are you up for the challenge?" 

"Hell, yeah," Enzo says with a smirk. Then he looks at me as if he forgot I even existed."I mean, if you want to." 

I nod and shrug. "I'm up for it." 

 "How about you lovely folks?" the booth woman asks the others. I guess they nod or something because she goes, "Who wants to go first?"

"We will!" Enzo volunteers as the woman takes the blowgun. She tells me that we have three shots per round. 

"Here goes nothing," I grumble to myself, putting the mouthpiece to my lips. My first blow falls short, and my second to the right. I set the gun down and take a deep breath to centre myself.

Enzo comes up behind me and jerkily rubs the spot between my shoulder and neck, and despite my "ow" he keeps going. "Alright, sport, here's where we stand on the board...we're off the board. You've got one shot. And I'd say don't blow it, but you have to." 

I roll my eyes. "Alright, alright."

I raise the gun and deliver a directed blow. The dart falls a ring below the target. Enzoraises a black brow. "You were almost a little too good at blowing."

"Really?" I give him my are-you-kidding-me look. "A sexual innuendo? I thought you were at least a little better than that," I tease.

"Well," he gives me a half shrug to make his statement plaintive, but his expression is sad. "One of us has to act eighteen." I know he's talking more about stupid innuendos –  he means everything with the killer and Frederick.

The next couple hits higher than I do, and the third couple misses completely. The reigning couple gets three points, Enzo and I get two, and the third couple gets one. "Next up: archery."

"I'll get this one," Enzo offers. 

When the woman hands him the bow and arrows, I step in and take them for myself. "I got this one," I assure you.

"You sure?"

I position the arrow against the string, aim, and release. The tip sinks into the ring left of the red bullseye. "Oh, and we have a hitter!" the woman chants. "But is it just luck?" 

I add another arrow, position my arrow to the right a little bit, and let the arrow fly. It lands on the edge of the red. Pulling back the arrow, I close one eye momentarily to centre myself. "Bingo," I say to myself before releasing the string. Direct bullseye. 

"Where'd you learn that?" Enzo inquires.

 "Summer camp. I guess I still have muscle memory," I answer. 

 "Well, now I've gotta step up my game next round. Thanks for making me actually have to put effort into something," he jokes.

This round, we get three points. Enzo steps up for the knife challenge after flashing me an unsure look. His first knife connects with the ground, kicking dirt up. Enzo shakes his head and throws another one, which barely even nicks the target. He turns to me and throws his hands up in childish hopelessness. With his last knife, he twirls it and pushes his shoulders back. With an audible grunt, he throws the blade, muscles working underneath his shirt. The knife finds its way into the centre of the target.