Break time now

Mica wobbled to the grass center and sat down. As she squatted down, she massaged her feet. They felt very tender. Her insides kind of felt similar, although from a different source. It would be nice to be in her assigned room now, especially if she were alone.

She was suddenly aware of someone sitting next to her. She glanced sideways. That lieutenant, Clara, was sitting next to her. She vaguely recalled that Dr. Haywood knew everyone. How did he know her? How did he know a military gal like that? Was it her imagination? Was the lieutenant different?

“Are you ok?” Spoken softly.

Mica turned her face away. She didn’t need the pity of a stranger ... Ignoring such pity usually redirected the person to do something that she could handle better. Still, with that last name, she was expecting … something more French. In accent, if nothing else.

“What do you think of the hostess?”

Mica half muttered to herself, “She has a shit-eating grin and a mental dive away from changing everything about us.”

“Where are you from?”

Mica felt a flush of anger creeping on her face. So she was part of that group, eh?

She turned her face and hissed out, “What the hell are you suggesting? I am a US citizen! I could pass a citizenship test that you probably couldn’t. You get by with your lily-white skin. My parents are also US citizens! The US does not have an official language or religion. So you can stuff it and go die in a hole.”

“And with that, we’re back. Chop, chop.” Croon the commenters' box.

Mica got up and jogged to the setup javelin rack. All of her unpleasant thoughts and emotions were subsumed by something else entirely. Oh boy, did she need to wash some hot rage out. While getting violent with the contestants and the hosts was out of the question, throwing sharp sticks will have to do.

She grabbed a javelin and eyed the area. There seemed to be a target out there for her to throw it at. Good. Hefting the javelin, she took a running start and hurled it at the target. It stuck onto a red ring near the yellow bullseye. Now that she thought about it, the target was a hay bale with an archery target paint on it.

She focused back onto the host voice,“... and my wasn’t that a spectacular shot. Mica’s accuracy is mighty good for an event that has deemphasized hitting your mark. That throw was also barely legal. Cutting the line fine for someone who is behind on points. However, what a wonderful view she did present.”

Mica blinked, looked at herself, and then covered herself. Shit.

“Well, let’s not dilly dally anyway. The other two have completed their throws. Mica has improved; she got second in this javelin event. And as disappointing as it is, no one scored a penalty this time. Well, we’ll be running swiftly to the next event, the long jump.”