"I'm not good at this," is what I say before I let loose the arrow. It flies just short of the center. And I give a disgruntled sigh. I had been trying to miss, but instinct ingrained from years of training show through. Oliver Queen, the recruiter, can tell, if the way he's gaping at me like I'm the messiah is anything to go by. "NOT GOOD AT THIS MY ASS!" He's screaming at this point and I feel headache not derived from hunger or exhaustion beginning to pound in my head and I'm happy because of the normalcy of it. Remember a time when I would have given anything to have a headache for so mundane a reason.
"Artemis, believe me you've got real talent and you're wasting it in North Gotham High. You've got the talent and I'm more than willing to give you the opportunity. I'll give you full tuition to Justice Academy for the Athletically Excellent," Was what Oliver was saying. What I heard was. "I can get you out. I can take you away." And really that's all he needed to say. My answer was the one of the things I most sure in my entire life, "Yes, I'll do it."