Chiron Academy

For the Family: The Secret Life of Mariah Fontaine

WARNING: HERE THERE BE HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE BOOK. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 

1 YEARS AGO

St. Gianna Molla's School for Girls,

About an hour outside of Chicago, Illinois.

BLAM. 

The sound of the gun echoed across the empty school grounds surrounded the shooting range.

Maria lowered the rifle as she took a deep breath. The cold wind bit her cheeks but she only felt it dully. She was all alone on the shooting range; she was finally free to put all of her focus down the range, on the the distant target she just fired at.  Two bullets remained on the table next to her.

She was practicing for the 100 yards event. That meant rounds of 5 shots. 3 done, two left. It wasn't generally one of her events, she preferred the categories with fewer shots,  but the girl whose event it had been had just transferred to another school, and Mrs. Spencer, the shooting club coach, had insisted that it be Mariah to pick up the girl's events.

None of the other girls can do the long distance events. Not the way you can! Mrs. Spencer had said.

She was always saying things like that.

Which was probably true. The meet was next week and there really wasn't time for any of the new girls

She loaded the next bullet in to the gun. She brought the rifle up to shoulder. She stared down the sights as she slowly exhaled. 

BLAM

Smoke rolled out of the barrel as she calmly lowered the gun from her shoulder. The 100 foot with the rifle was not her best event. She preferred the 300. In the farther out rifle events, they were allowed scopes. Those were Mariah's favorite events. She could shoot without a scope but it felt imprecise, like destroying a tv instead of unplugging it. With the scope, she could focus on exactly what she wanted to. Looking down a scope, that was when she was in complete control.

She loaded the last bullet into the action. She breathed out slowly. She knew from experience that even the slight movement of breathing could throw a shot. Even so small a movement can destroy everything. Mariah tried to focus with everything she could on stillness. There was only the target and gun. The world simplified. Time slowed down. There was only her and the gun and the target. No rush, no hurry. Nothing else mattered. She tightened her finger around the trigger. BLAM.

She stood up. And walked to the target. Kicking at the gravel that floored the range. She picked at the target from the clips that held it to the backstop.

Garbage, she thought as she stared at the bullet holes.

"Oh, my gosh, that's so good!"

Mariah turned to see Mrs. Spencer, the shooting club coach, her cheery face pulled into a wide smile, standing at the edge of the range. Mariah must have been so focused on last shot that she hadn't noticed Mrs. Spencer's approach. She wondered how long she'd been standing there before Mariah had noticed.

"You're doing so well, Mariah," Mrs. Spencer beamed, her blonde ringlets practically bouncing with excitement as she spoke. "I know I've said this to you before, but you honestly might want to about going professional someday. I don't say this to everyone, but you've got real talent. I know you're a bit young, but I've got some friends involved in the circuit and they'd be very interested in working with you."

The woman's arms flourished with every sentence as if her whole body was trying to demonstrate her excitement.

As Ms. Spencer spoke, her loose bun lolled back and forth on the back of her head, Mariah thought it might be impossible for her to stand still as she spoke. Mariah looked down at the target she had just used. The grouping was messy.  Too far from the bullseye.