‘Not bad,’ Taylor admits.
I take another shot, and it hits centre. I can hear Rob laughing behind us.
‘If you tell her she can’t do it, she’ll end up doing it better than you,’ Rob shouts to his buddy.
I take six more shots, all of them clustering in or very near the bullseye. I hand the rifle back to Taylor.
‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about,’
I say. ‘It’s not hard to hit the middle once you get used to it.’
Taylor looks at the rifle and then back at me. ‘You’ve done this before,’ he says.
‘No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘But I am good at darts.’ And golf. And bocce ball. And shuffleboard. Anything that involves hand–eye coordination and a projectile, I add silently. I don’t say all that out loud, for obvious reasons. ‘I can hit targets. Maybe it’s an aim thing.’
‘Maybe you’re just a natural born killer. Look at that shot!’ Taylor shouts, truly impressed. ‘Dang, girl. You want to fire off a few rounds on my handgun?’
I pause, shaken. There’s no way he can know. And it seems like he’s honestly praising me. If he knew, he wouldn’t be doing that.
‘I can’t,’ I complain, rubbing my arm. ‘I’m so done.’
He tries to talk me into it, but my arm really is just killing me. I join Rob and sit down in the lawn chair next to him as Aura-Blue steps up for her first lesson with a rifle. She balks at even holding it, and Taylor basically takes over and starts showing off.
Rob looks at me with a strange expression. ‘Are you good at everything?’ he asks.
‘Beginner’s luck,’ I say. ‘I doubt I’ll ever win any competitions, like Taylor over there, but I guess I can hit a target if it’s not too far away.’ We watch Taylor become increasingly more testosterone-addled with every crack of the rifle. Some people really get off on guns. ‘Do you shoot?’ I ask Rob.
‘I don’t see the allure,’ he replies, making his ambivalence clear. ‘Too noisy.’
‘What?’ I say like I’m deaf and get a begrudging laugh.
‘Are you going to start carrying a rifle on your hikes?’ Rob asks out of nowhere.
‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ I reply.
‘Think about it,’ he urges. He takes my hand. ‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but that woman who got mauled—’
‘Had a rifle,’ I finish.
‘Good point,’ he concedes. ‘But will you think about it anyway? I’m sure your grandparents have something you can take if you’re going to keep hiking alone. I’m really worried about you out there.’
I smile, but don’t say anything. Handing me a firearm is the last thing my grandparents would do. Besides, on the slim chance anything ever happened to me out there, it would only be what I deserved.
‘You can’t shoot guns sober!’ Liam shouts from the driveway. We turn and see him hold up a six-pack.
Another round of greetings and jokes and smiles as Liam and Mila join us. And the gang’s all here.
Mila is dreamy and chatty. I notice she’s not wearing any jewellery or much make-up. I wonder how many of those beers she’s had already.
I wait a half-hour and start saying I have to go.
‘You want to go home to write some more?’ Rob asks me.
I give him a puzzled look. ‘Why would you say that?’
He gestures to my hand. I’m holding my journal. I must have put it in my handbag before we went out, but I don’t remember doing that.
‘You really don’t realize how much you write, do you?’ he asks me. He doesn’t blink.