Hitting a bullseye

“I need to hit the bullseye.”

Trent looked down the range, but the target was blurry.

Trent’s parents had given him a book about archery, and he had studied it. This morning he saw his chance to put it into action.

He shot, and his arrow joined the crowd.

It hit the grass.

His second arrow hit the very edge of the target.

His third landed in the outermost white circle.

Trent looked around. Arrows were strewn everywhere. One boy had already gotten a bullseye. His parents had put a second target just in front of the boy, so close he couldn’t have missed.

“You did it!” They cheered.

“Can I try that?” Trent asked, but his father shook his head.

“You did fine.” His father said. “Work hard and you’ll do better.”

Trent retrieved his arrows and fired another volley. The results were no better than the first time.

“I’m sick of this.” The boy next to Trent said. All 3 of his arrows had landed in the grass. He threw down his bow and walked off the range. No one stopped him.

“You have to work harder.” Trent’s father said. “You can do it.”

Trent retrieved his arrows.

When the session ended, most people stowed their equipment. A few had hit bullseyes, and they left grinning.

Trent’s best shot was blue.

“I want to keep trying.” Trent told the instructor.

“Why?” Another boy asked. His name was Felix. “There’s a lot of other activities.”

“I haven’t hit a bullseye yet.”

Felix laughed.

“I didn’t hit a bullseye, and I’m fine!” He said.

“You can stay.” The instructor said, “I’ll be here all day.”

Trent continued shooting throughout the morning. By lunchtime, he had hit yellow once, but only the outer circle.

“I’m proud of you.” His father told him as they ate.

“I want to keep trying this afternoon.” Trent said.

His father frowned.

“You’ve done well. What about getting a girlfriend? Is there anyone you’re interested in?”

“No.”

“You should try tennis.” His mother said. “Lots of nice girls play tennis.”

“I don’t want to play tennis.” Trent answered.

“We’re going to play tennis. You can join us if you want to.”

His father and mother left. Trent looked at his cup. The ice melted. He stood up and walked back to the archery range.

As he walked along the curving road, Trent heard a roar and jumped into the grass. He narrowly avoided the car as it drove past. It was a bright yellow convertible, sleek and low to the ground. The top was down, and Trent could see leather seats inside.

The car screeched to a stop and Felix jumped out of the driver’s seat, tearing a pair of sunglasses off his face.

“Are you ok?” Felix asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Thank god. Oh, did you ever hit that bullseye?”

“Not yet.”

“You’re still trying? Why?”

“I don’t like yellow.”

Felix glared at him.

“You’re an idiot.” He said, and drove away.

“It is nice though.” Trent said to no one.

When he got back to the range, Trent asked the instructor for advice.

“Why don’t you help some of the younger boys?” The instructor said, “Teaching can help us see our own mistakes.”

Trent walked over to the boys the instructor pointed out. He watched them knock their arrows and aim, and corrected a few mistakes.

After they had gotten started, he returned to his earlier spot and joined in.

That night, Trent lay in his bed and smiled.