Yes, Katniss. I just had to, okay? XD

JustCompetitions contest entry 

  P.E. Archery unit is a beautiful thing. You know why? Well, let me show you. 

"Push ups and sit ups!" the girl leading warm-ups yells. The usual end to our daily warm-up routine. 

"Alright everyone, gather at half- court," My P.E. teacher says. We walk over to the center circle, excited murmurs traveling throughout the class. Dangerous weapons? Yes, please. 

She hands out packets filled with basic safety instructions and rules, and then proceeds to waste about half an hour of class time reading every single word veeeerrry slowly. 

"I-I-I-I have a ques-ques- question," says Nathan*, the chubby kid who sort of has a stutter and really needs to pull up his pants. "A-ar-are those arrows blunt or sh-sh-sharp?"

"They're sharp," Mrs. Daniels responded. "They can kill you." 

"Aww yeah!" cheers a group of guys sitting of towards the back of our little circle. They're the athletic type, the ones who get extra credit on fitness days. 

Mrs. Daniels gives a sharp look, followed with a lecture on how we need to follow the rules, be careful of injuries, listen carefully to directions, you know, the usual sort of stuff you tell a class of thirteen- year-olds before giving them lethal weapons. 

"Please form lines behind the cones," she says. "I only have one left handed bow, so if you're left handed I need you to be in this line." 

I share a sad look with my right-handed friends as I head over to the leftie line, which has three other people in it. And who are they? Yep, a few of the annoying guys from before. Not all of them, of course, but not a single one of my second-period friends are left handed. 

Strapping on my arm guard, I take my place in the line. 

"We'll only be firing one arrow today, that's all we have time for," says Mrs. Daniels. "Remember one whistle means you can go up to the line and shoot, two means everyone is finished and you can go get your arrows, and four or more whistles means emergency, stop firing." She blew one quick whistle blast and the first people in line take their places, aim, and fire. I smother a burst of laughter as the arrow of one of the most athletic guys in our class drops on the floor in front of the target. Most arrows hit either the next in the back of the gym or in the white or black sections of the target. 

Once everyone has shoot their arrow, Mrs. Daniels blows her whistle two times and my classmates go and retrieve their arrows, then head to the back of their lines. 

Again, one whistle blast, and I step up along with seven others (we have eight lines total). I nocked the arrow, aimed, and fired. It sailed over the target and hit the net, falling down to the ground along with the majority of my hope that this might be a sport that I had skill in. I set down the bow and looked around to see how others had done, thankfully not much better than I had. 

In the next line over was my friend Maria, short, blonde, and with a tendency to walk tiptoe (she's a ballet dancer, so I suppose it's out of habit). Aside from dance, she can generally be described as the opposite of athletic.  The bows we're using are about as tall as her, and she's struggling to pull the string back. She inches her hand back towards her cheek slowly, arm shaking. Then she lets go and the arrow wobbles through the air at first, but seems to find it's balance somehow and sails through the air for the last bit of the journey. With a satisfying thwack! it punctures the target, right in the center of that little yellow circle. 

And that is why P.E. Archery unit is a beautiful thing. 

A/N 

*All names have been changed. 

Okay, so, this is a true story. It really happened, and while I might not exactly remember the precise words said by everyone, I tried to keep it as accurate as possible. One thing I changed, which is the order we shot in. I think the girl who I call "Maria" actually went before I did, because I was at the end of the line. But that change was made to help the story flow. Everything else is completely as it happened, with the exception of the changed names. 

So, what do you think of this little story?  Should I do more true stories? Do you have a favorite sport, or are you not much of a sports person? Maybe you are a kind of Maria yourself? What's your hidden talent?

Thanks so much for reading! Remember to vote and comment if you liked this story!