Secrets

Chapter Three

The academy is dark when I walk in. Not nearly as many lights on as the night before. This time I make the choice of checking every room before training. When I spot no one, I make a beeline to the knives. I got here early so I could throw a bit before Cato (doubtfully) arrives. Metal clicks against the ground as I drop my sack full of knives. My sneakers behind the familiar white line; each dummy placed a few yards away.

My first knife strikes the heart spot on, the sound sending chills across my arm. I breathe in slowly, releasing the second knife into the skull. As the third one leaves my hand, I hear a door shut and jump, causing the knife to hit the arm.

"Nice aim. Is this what I'm supposed to be afraid of?"

I look over at Cato as he slowly approaches, a gym bag in his hand, "It's not even ten yet."

"I figured I'd come early, but I see you had the same idea."

"Unfortunately," I sigh, looking back the targets.

Cato walks up closer to me, dropping his bag and crossing his arms, "Knife in the head and the skull, you threw those?"

"No, I kicked them." I give him a stupid look.

"Alright, sassy pants. Do it again."

"What?"

"Kick them into the heart and skull again. But... on those dummies." his hand lifts and he points over to the sword rack dummies, which are much farther away.

"Those aren't for knives."

"So?" Cato looks at me, "Anyone can throw from a white line, but not everyone can throw across a gym."

I lick my teeth in anger, grabbing one my knives. He glances at the knife then looks back at the dummy. I position my feet and take a deep breath. When the knife releases, it hits the dummy, but in the stomach.

"So you can't throw across the gym," he smirks, looking down at me.

"I can, but not with you watching," I growl.

"If you can't with me watching, how do you expect to do it when the whole world is watching?"

When I don't respond he scoffs and bends over to dig his hand in my sack of knives, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I grab his wrist and look at him dead in the eyes, "Those are my knives."

"I'm going to throw it."

"Throw something else, not my knife."

Cato yanks his hand away from me and looks at the dull blade, "You going to stop me?"

"Seriously, Blondie. Those are my knives. I would appreciate it if you didn't use them."

"They're beaten to shit." Cato hands the knife back, and I quickly grab it.

"That's because I've had them since I was like.. twelve."

"Seriously?" He raises his eyebrows.

I just nod and drop the knife back in my bag, "Anyways. If anyone can hit a dummy from behind this white line, why don't you try with something other than my knife?"

Cato crosses his arms and gives me a look, "You ruined my mood, so no."

"Sounds like you're trying to hide the fact that you can't throw."

"You're annoying, you know that?" Cato points at me.

"I've been told, but now you're changing the subject so I'm going to assume you can't throw the knife to save your life."