"Gemma, you didn't," Elizabeth says, wide-eyed.
"I wasn't the only one," I say, glaring at Felicity and Ann.
Felicity is undisturbed. "I'm sure you'll become friends in time. Oh, here she is now. Miss McCleethy! Miss McCleethy!"
"Good afternoon, ladies. I see we are ready." Miss McCleethy strides across the lawn like the Queen herself, giving us clipped instructions on the proper technique for holding the bow. The girls clamor for her attention, begging to be shown correct form. And when she gives a demonstration, her arrow finding the center of the target straightaway, everyone applauds as if she has shown the path to heaven itself.
Arrows are given out to the first group of girls.
"Miss McCleethy," Martha calls out, worried. "Are we to use real arrows, then?"
She holds the arrow's sharp metal tip away from her as if it were a loaded pistol.
"Yes, shouldn't we use rubber-tipped ones?" Elizabeth asks.
"Nonsense. You will be perfectly fine with these, so long as you don't aim at each other. Now, who is first?"
Elizabeth steps up to the line that has been chalked in the dead grass. Miss McCleethy coaxes her into position, guiding her elbow back. Elizabeth's arrow falls with a thud, but Miss McCleethy has her practice again and again, and on the fourth try, she manages to graze the bottom of the target.
"That's progress. Keep trying. Who is next?"
The girls jockey to be second. I confess that I also want Miss McCleethy to like me. I vow to do my very best, to win her over and erase last night's unfortunate encounter. As Miss McCleethy makes her way down the line, moving from girl to girl, I silently practice my approach.
This is very exciting, Miss McCleethy, for I've long wanted to be an archer. How clever you are, Miss McCleethy, to have thought of this. I do so like your suit, Miss McCleethy. It is the epitome of taste.
"Miss Doyle? Are you with us?" Miss McCleethy is standing beside me.
"Yes, thank you,' I say. Nervously, I take my bow and arrow in hand and take my stand at the line. The bow is much heavier than I anticipated. It pulls me forward into a hunch.
"Your form needs work, Miss Doyle. Stand tall. Don't slouch. There. Arm back. Come now, you can pull harder than that."