The sound of rushing water awakened Cade who was in a deep sleep. His eyes twitched as he covered his face with his hands because the bright light blinded him. He cursed under his breath and pulled the blanket up to his chest. “Antione, I told you not to enter my room.”
Cade had a terrifying nightmare that he left home and his cousins had forgotten his existence. They trapped him in a room with some guys he didn’t know. But good thing it was only a dream. He was still living in their mansion.
“When will he wake up?”
“I don’t know. Is he dead?”
“We’ll be late though.”
“Go get a bucket of cold water.”
The voices in his head were getting louder and closer. Cade turned around while his eyes closed. “What the hell is wrong with you, Antoine? Let me sleep!”
“Is he sleep-talking?”
“Who’s Antoine?”
Cade slowly opened his eyes. Lewis was expressionless while staring at him. There was Patrick, the star, print on his undershirt. Liam was munching a pie while sitting beside his bed, and SpongeBob was on his undershirt. Meanwhile, Luke was holding a bucket of water, ready to pour it on him. Squidward was on his undershirt and the three of them had matching boxers.
So it wasn’t a dream.
“What’s going on?” Cade asked.
“Well, you have to hurry because we will be late,” Luke said.
Are we going to school together?
Cade chuckled when he noticed the prints on their undershirt and how unmanly they looked.
“What’s funny?” Liam asked.
“Oh, the prints on your shirts are so… cute.”
“Do you think we’re stupid? How dare you,” Liam said and began to tickle him.
“Hey, stop!”
“Don’t worry, Curt. We got something for you too,” Lewis said and showed him an undershirt with Mr. Krabs printed on it.
“There’s no way I’m going to wear that,” Cade protested.
“Come on. Joining our squad means following our tradition.”
Liam tried to remove Cade’s shirt, but he was struggling to get free. Lewis entered the scene and hold Cade’s arms. It stunned Luke, and he accidentally spilled the water on them.
“What the fuck, Luke?” Lewis blurted.
“Oops. My hands slip. Free shower?”
“Ahh. You want a free shower? Lewis, hold him.”
“Wait. Wait.” There was nothing Luke could do because Lewis and Liam were already locking their arms around him.
“Curtis, lift his feet,” Lewis commanded.
“Ugh. Okay.”
“Wait. Stop!”
Together, they carried Luke to the garden and swung his body before throwing him into the swimming pool. They burst out laughing while Luke was freezing in the cold water.
“You will not get away with this, morons,” Luke warned.
“Maybe it’s time for you to switch a club after your term as the Supreme Student Council President. The Swimming Club would be perfect,” Liam said with a wink.
Luke crawled out of the pool. His wet, jet-black hair was in a mess.
“Speaking of, it’s Thursday. Isn’t it thrilling?” Lewis said.
“What’s with Thursday?” Cade asked.
“Time to select a club. I swear it’s fun.”
“You know what’s fun? Let me tell you a secret,” Luke said and gestured for them to come closer.
“What?”
Luke put his arms around their shoulders—Liam to the right and Lewis to the left.
“It’s fun to dive,” Luke said and pulled them to the pool. In shock, Cade offered his hand to save Liam. He reached him, but he was also plunged into the pool with a comical expression.
***
The bell rang as a sign for the last period to begin. They called it the ‘Activity Period’ when students go to their respective clubs to hone their skills. The Supreme Student Council officers put up posters on the Bulletin Board to showcase the Clubs’ descriptions and what they offer. They have six clubs: Broadway Act (Drama Club), artisans (Art Club), Wave Breaker (Swimming Club), Mindblasters (Board Games Club), Mad Power (Martial Arts Club), Book Enthusiast (Library Club), and The Huntsman (Archery Club).
Stan and Theo hustled themselves into the crowd and read the descriptions on the poster.
“So, we’ll go on different paths. So long, my friend,” Theo said, sounding sentimental.
“You’re going to the Martial Arts Club, right?” Stan said.
“Obviously. I need to prove myself to Master Antoine. What about you? Going to the Mindblasters, huh?”
“Why do you think so?”
“Everybody knows you love mind games. Those riddles, puzzles, and geek things. You are extremely a nerd, dude. You could play the role of Curtis Fleming or his doppelgänger.”
“You do know we’re not in the right position to talk about something classified, right?”
Theo pressed his lips together in shame. “Sorry.”
“I’ll try the Archery Club.”
“What? Archery? Where did that come from?”
“For a change. I need to develop precision and focus.”
Theo pondered for a moment. “Is that really the reason?”
“What would the reason be other than that?”
“I know you, Stan. Something must have inspired you to take the life of a Huntsman. Was it a book or a movie?”
Stan sighed. “Fine. A movie. About zombies. It’s better to practice long-range combat before the apocalypse comes.”
Theo shook his head. “I knew it. You sound so cool before you said the real reason. But now, you sound like an idiot.”
“Look who’s talking. I know you got obsessed with Martial Arts after watching Karate Kids and Shaolin Soccer.”
Theo hurriedly covered Stan’s mouth. “Don’t reveal the remnants of the past, man. It’s classified.”
Stan and Theo proceeded to their chosen clubs. There were sixty students who signed up for the Archery Club, and they all sat down, facing their instructor.
“Good afternoon, everyone. My name is George Adamson, your P.E. teacher and also the instructor of The Huntsman. Welcome to the club.”
The students clapped their hands. Mr. Adamson had blue-colored hair only within the three inches of his hair from the tip of the strands; a highlight. The rest was white.
“I am already 50 years old, but my precision never fails me when it comes to bow and arrow. If you don’t know, I won four gold medals in the Olympic championship for archery when I was your age.”
The students were quite impressed as they exchanged some glances.
“I have given each of you a number when you entered the room. It will serve as your name for today. That’s right. No more self-intro for today’s video. Do you think you can enter archery without a potential?” Mr. Adamson shook his head, “of course not. You have to undergo a trial to prove yourself that you are qualified. Because at Mchalmmond High, you don’t choose a club. The club chooses you.”
The students became silent.
“Choosing a club is critical because it will define what you can and cannot do. What you possess and what you lack. If no club accepts you, you’ll face judgment from other students. You’ll be the subject of bullying. And bullying in this school is invisible but massive. You don’t see it, but it’s there.”
Tension arose in the room.
“If you don’t want to be entitled as dumb or loser, show more than a hundred percent of your best. Mchalmmond is not for the weak of heart, mind, and wit. You are here because you are exceptional and you must maintain that.”
Mr. Adamson picked up his bow and arrow. “Here’s the rule. I will give you five phases or five shots. The highest score per phase is ten points, and the overall is fifty points. You need to get at least thirty points to qualify. If you do, I will state your name and officially introduce you as a member of the club. Good luck.”
The target board, known as boss, was seventy meters away from the archer. Student number one came in first. Her fingers trembled when she pulled the arrow. Everyone was watching as if it was a matter of life and death. She scored a total of twenty points, which meant that she wasn’t qualified.
Student number two was next. He shook his hands before picking up the equipment. Sweat formed from his forehead and it slid down as he released the arrow. He hit eight points. From then on, he began targeting eight points straight in a row. With a total of forty points, he passed the test.
Other students copied his technique and aimed for a specific number except for number ten—the center point. Some students made it, but most of them didn’t even though they aimed for a lower point.
“Number 33, you’re up next!”
Stan walked to the starting line. He stood upright with feet shoulder width apart. He kept a relaxed grip on the bow handle. Stan turned the bow so that it was horizontal and the arrow rest was facing upwards. He placed the arrow on the shelf of the arrow rest and pushed the nock of the arrow onto the string between the two brass nocking points to ensure that the cock Fletch was pointing upward. Then, he brought the bow back to the vertical.
Stan positioned his fingers on the string with his index finger above the arrow and two fingers below. He pulled back the string using his back muscles under his chin. The string touched his nose and lips. With his dominant eye, he looked down at the arrow and aligned it with the target. Finally, while holding his breath, he released the arrow.