Underground

43

Estelle
I wake up, coughing and sputtering.
August was sleeping with his back to me, muttering and clutching a pillow.
I lean over and press a kiss to his temple.
His lips curl into a smile.
Usually, It would calm me, but it just fuels the nerves that settled in my stomach.
I push myself out of bed, walking into the bathroom. 
I sit on the sink counter, staring at the shower.
I get off the sink, turning the shower water on, to cold.
I was shaking and sweaty from head to toe, so it was a struggle to get out of my clothes and into the shower.
I stare at the floor, having to intention to wash myself again.
"E?" The bathroom door opens.
"Hey." I sigh.
"What're you doing?" August asks, his voice sleepy.
"I had a nightmare, I thought showering could help." I say.
August hums. "I'm going back to sleep."
"It's 4 AM, I would expect you to." I try and joke.
"Night, sweetie." He says, leaving.
I shut off the water, shaking my head free of loose droplets.
I grab a towel and dry myself off, putting back on my clothes. I walk back to the bedroom and climb in next to a half-asleep August.
***
I can't shoot a bow, Annaliesee doesn't have to and Yeeva can just make people spontaneously combust.
Leeciy, obviously can shoot perfectly, and I can't. 
Which is why at this moment, I'm equipped with a bow, in a forest clearing, surrounded by cardboard cutouts of many celebrities, with orders to shoot them.
I grab an arrow from the quiver and draw back the bowstring.
"Izzy." Leeciy whispers behind me.
I aim for the cardboard cutout, letting the arrow fly.
It misses by a few feet, lodging itself into a tree. 
Leeciy sighs. "Let me try."
I hand him an arrow and the bow. 
He loads an arrow and lets it fly.
It lands in the eye of the cardboard cutout, which falls over.
"Now how do you do that?" I ask. "I would say practice, but I don't need practice." He says. "Aim maybe, just focus on a point and let it fly."
I load another arrow and let it fly, this time taking his advice. It still flies to the tree. "I can't."
"You totally can." He encourages emptily.
"Don't lie, I can't." I throw down the bow, setting the quiver next to it.
He clicks his tongue. "I would keep trying."
"I'm not going to keep trying." I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. "I'm just not built for archery."
"You're right." He says. "You're built for agility, you're gentle on your feet, and you're not bad at hand-to-hand combat. Hell, I bet you could beat me up."
I offer a small fake grin. "Thanks."
Leeciy stands his ground. "I'm serious."
"I know." I say.
"But, scientist number two suggests that we all learn all fighting styles." Leeciy says, biting at his lip ring.
"I couldn't care less about archery." I repeat. "And I refuse to learn it."
"Well, sooner or later, it will come in handy." He says, picking the bow and quiver off the ground.
"I doubt it." I say. "Besides, we're in a forest and they can't see us."
"What are suggesting?" He asks, loading the bow and quiver into the trunk of the car.
"I want to test your theory that I could beat you up." I say.
He raises a brow. "What are the scientists going to say when we both come back bruised and bloody."
"It's bear season." I say.
He opens his mouth to speak but I stop him, with a fist to the stomach.
I take a few steps back, using the technique Ms. Abagail taught me.
Leeciy smirks, throwing a punch that I evade.
I kick his stomach, watching in satisfaction as he stumbles backward.
"It's on, red." He says, using the name Yeeva dubbed me.
He reaches forward and grabs the front of my shirt, yanking me forward. He punches me in the face.
I ignore the sharp pain and jump up digging the heels of my combat boots into his chest, springing myself backward.
He falls over, jumping up quickly. He runs at me, roundhouse kicking my waist.
I stumble sideways, grabbing onto a thin apple tree.
He grins. "I have you cornered." He says in a singsong tone.
I reach up and grab an apple, chucking it at his face.
It hits his nose, and smashes, spraying sticky juice on his face.
While he's distracted with the black blood running down his face, I sneak behind him, grabbing one of his arms and twisting it behind his back.
I pull it until it pops out of socket.
He groans in pain.
I shove him to his knees, then shove him over, placing a foot in the center of his cotton shirt-clad back. "I am the victor!"
"Not fair." He says, his voice muffled in the dirt.
I step off his back helping him up. "You're just a sore loser."
"You threw an apple at me!" He yells. "There's got to be a rule about that somewhere in the sparring book."
"Let me relocate your arm." I offer.
He grumbles and turns.
I grab his arm and force it back into its socket.
He hisses in pain, then goes quiet.
"I'm sorry I threw an apple at you." I say.
He pauses and looks at me. "It's okay, it just shows that you can literally make anything into a weapon."
"Yes, and it also goes to show that I'm a better fighter." I say.
"You're not a better archer." He says, running a hand through his hair.
I stick my tongue out at him.
"We should probably get out of here." He says. "And clean up the celebrity cutouts."
"That's a good idea." I say.
"Also retrieve the arrows that you shot into that poor tree." He jokes.
I fake laugh, hitting his chest. "And you can clean up the apple."