after about 15 minutes they call my name. i smooth my hair, set my shoulders back, and walk into the gym. Instantly, I know I’m in trouble. They’ve been here too long, the Gamemakers. Sat through 23 other demonstrations. Had too much to wine, most of them. Want more than anything to go home. There’s nothing I can do but continue with the plan. I walk to the archery station. Oh, the weapons! I’ve been itching to get my hands on them for days! Bows made of wood, plastic, metal and materials I can’t even name. Arrows with feathers cut in uniform lines.
I choose a bow, string it, and sling the matching quiver of arrows over my shoulder. There’s a range, but it’s too limited. Standard bull’s-eyes and human silhouettes. I walk to the center of the gym and pick my target. The dummy for knife practice. Even as I pull back on the bow somethings wrong. The string’s tighter than at home.
I turn to Gamemakers. A few are nodding approval, a majority of them are fixated on a pig that arrived at their table. my life on the line, they don’t even have decency to pay attention. upstaged by a pig. My heart pounding, and face burning. Without thinking, I pull an arrow from my quiver sending it at the Gamemakers’ table. shouts of alarm, people stumble back. The arrow skewers the apple in the pig’s mouth and pins it to the wall behind it. Everyone stares at me in disbelief. “Thank's for your consideration,” I say. I give a slight bow and exit without dismissal.