Bow and Arrow

Chapter One

“Fudge. Fudge, fudge, fudge! Where the heck is it!?"

My eyes scanned the ground ferociously. I reached up to the back of my head, feeling the spot where my bow usually was. Keyword: was.

Suddenly my head rammed into someone’s chest. Luckily my bun cushioned my head, or it would have been throbbing. Unluckily, my glasses bounced onto the floor.

“Sorry! Sorry... sorry…” I said, my voice quiet. I slowly looked up into the face of my victim and gulped. He was way tall with blonde hair, but I couldn’t see his face with my blurred vision.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he replied. I smiled sheepishly and dropped to the floor, groping around for my glasses. A hand bumped mine, and my glasses were swiftly shifted into my grasp.

“Th-thanks,” I said. I put my glasses in place and looked up at the boy. His face was muscular and he wore a black leather jacket. He looked like one of those tough guys who beat people up in dark alleys. He also looked like he was popular and was asked out by girls a lot. Honestly, he would be attractive to the general population. To me he was menacing. I immediately cowered and started to back away.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To find my bow,” I said. 

“You mean this?” he held up a pale pink bow. I gasped and reached up for it. He held it up higher. 

“Give it!” I yelled softly. 

“Why so impatient?” he asked, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

“I have homework to do and marching band in an hour,” I explained. 

“I’ll come with you.” I sighed, exasperated. We walked down the hallway together. 

“So you’re in band, huh?” he asked. 

Uh-huh.”

“Is it fun?” 

“Yup.”

“Do you guys have practice a lot?”

“Yes.”

“But you still like it?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you play?”

“Mm hmm.” He looked at me like I had three heads.  I realized that I had been zoned out. 

“You play the ‘mm hmm’?” he asked, his eyes glittering again. 

“No, I mean, um, I play flute.” 

“Oh, okay.” I saw him smile at me out of the corner of my eye. 

“What?” I asked. 

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” he replied. 

“Why do keep looking at me?” 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his tone defensive. I nodded. We kept walking, and an awkward silence hung in the air. Finally he broke it. 

“So what’s your name?”

“Macy,” I answered. 

“Like the mouse? Maisie the mouse?” 

“No!” I rolled my eyes. 

“Well…” 

“Well, what?” This boy was very annoying. 

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?” he said, his tone as sweet as if it had been soaked in honey.