Commencement (West Hampton U: Part 2)

Chapter 7 ● Target

-- Suhana--

"And how's Caspian?" my best friend asks, tying an apron around her waist.

"He's good," I coo, tapping my little fish's bowl. "I think he grew a millimeter."

Muskaan laughs, nodding as if to say sure he did. "Okay Psycho, help me. I need this to turn out perfect."

"Don't worry. Once Sameer tries your biryani, he'll definitely put a ring on it," I chuckle, sitting down on the couch. I absentmindedly scroll through channels on our tv, as Muskaan follows the recipe slowly. I pipe in periodically, advising when I think she's doing something wrong. It feels nice, like a usual evening with us BFFs learning to cook together.

Once she's done, she proudly shows off her pot and then leaves it covered to cook. "So," she begins suspiciously casual, "how are the boys?"

I give her a look through the camera. "Jo bhi puchna hai saaf saaf puch na (Just ask whatever it is you want to ask)," I deadpan.

"Fine," she whines, "it seems like you and Ruhaan have been spending a lot of time together lately."

"I have to because of my internship course," I try to explain but she doesn't look convinced. "Don't worry. I'm definitely minutes away from chopping his head off and feeding it to the lions at the Zoo."

"Right," Muskaan snorts. "I got the email about the summer social this weekend. Are you going to go?"

I shrug noncommittally. "Probably. I need to do something besides class and work otherwise I'm going to lose it."

"More than you've already lost?" Muskaan giggles.

I try to scowl at her but I can't. Not when she's laughing so prettily, her carefree and happy, unlike the last few weeks of the semester when she was here.

"What do you think you'll wear?" she asks and we spend the next hour debating outfits, only hanging up when I need to go to the gym. We say our goodbyes as I change into my gym gear and promise to call on the weekend.

I grab my bag and make my way over to the gym. I didn't have internship work today but rather an impromptu archery club meeting. I wasn't a super active member, but it was nice to have some time to keep up the skill.

I purposely showed up towards the end and the two other members left shortly after. I had the target and the room to myself. The makeshift bullseye was closer than I needed. After a few practice shots, I moved it further back, and then a little more when that became too easy.

I loved archery. It was a random hobby I picked up in high school, spun on because of my natural ability to drop water balloons from the roof of the school onto unsuspecting jocks. I was good at bowling and loved Hawkeye in the Avengers movies. Once a teacher suggested archery, I never looked back.

I loved the feeling of the heavy bow in my arms, the tension between the bow string and the arrow, the way the world blurred in front of my eyes. It gave me reprieve, it gave me a break from the noise. And it felt good as hell hitting something with something pointy.

I release the arrow to the target, nearly 50 feet away at the other side of the gym. If I had put in some more years of practice, I probably could have gotten close to the Olympic qualifying distance, but who wanted the go through that trouble all for a round coin I'd hang around my neck once.

My head bobs with the Jay Z playing through the speakers, appreciative of the good music the club members had left for me. I stand with me feet apart, pulling the arrow back and finding the target with my eyes. Once I find it, I take in a deep breath, ready to release the arrow.