Slapshots (Clement/Open)

[Lyra Caruso]

THWACK!

“I, I'm spread way too thin. Everybody wants to know what's happenin’.”

A cheerful rendition of a Dirty Heads song.

The painted ball shot across the gym floor and into the goal net. Lyra lifts her hockey stick in victory, she still got it! Now if only this gym could turn into an ice rink at will…or maybe if she happened to track down someone with that ability…a shrug as she crosses the distance to retrieve the ball. It was slick, painted black and yellow for her own purposes until she could get herself a puck or two.

It was amazing how hard she had to fight for the space that Wednesday afternoon. It took fighting off basketball players with her hockey stick, but a battle won was a battle won. Given there wasn’t much in the way of equipment for hockey yet, all that she had would have to do for the moment. She had petitioned her brother to retrieve extra hockey stuff in storage back home when he next stopped by.

“I, I'm spread way too thin. What's the big rush now, tell me why you're rushin’”

Once in a while, Lyra casts a glance over her shoulder to look out for Clement. Not for any reason in particular, the kid seemed to show interest in trying a new sport out! She totally wasn’t anticipating him at all, he still had the open option to be a no show.

Not that she minded if he did or not. Another THWACK of the ball with the hockey stick, the ball flying into the goal net once more.

“And Lyra Caruso scores the final shot, the Bruins win the Stanley Cup! The Maples are devastated as Canada is defeated by the US once again! Suck it, dickbags!”

[Clement Evans]

It was hard to know if the actual sport had lured him to the gym that afternoon or the idea of doing something other than schoolwork. Probably more the latter initially, but the former once he got started. Even though the hockey stick was almost as tall as he was, once Lyra (who had finally also shared her name) had shown him the basics, Clement had a good time dribbling the puck up and down the court. He wasn't so interested in making shots, he knew that would come later, but sometimes he watched Lyra make them.

He also refused to answer to the nickname she gave him. He'd never liked 'Clem' and ugh, why did she have to latch onto it like that? Clement preferred jokes about his height to 'Clem'.

As Lyra sang and made hockey references Clement didn't understand, he ran after the ball that stood in for the puck. It was easy to lose control of it, but Clement didn't mind the running. He just hadn't realized there was so much of it in hockey.

“And Lyra Caruso scores the final shot, the Bruins win the Stanley Cup! The Maples are devastated as Canada is defeated by the US once again! Suck it, dickbags!”

Just to see if he could, Clement shot his ball toward the net and also made a goal, even though his ball bounced a few times. Too energetic. He was surprised to find himself sweating, bangs a little stringy. Trotting over to the goal, he flicked out both their balls.

"This is harder than I thought it would be," he admitted. His own puck-ball was red and yellow, good colors to see with his poor vision against the gym floor. With a flip of his toe, the ball was in his hand. He studied it for a moment, then wound up and pitched it across the gym's expanse. The same thing that gave Clement his left hook gave him a bullet of a fastball when he tried, and the red and yellow hit the far wall high before bouncing off. He retrieved it, and said, "Can we do passing again?"

[Lyra Caruso]

"This is harder than I thought it would be."

Lyra turned and flipped her hockey stick, shouldering the curved end to her shoulder. Aw, the kid was already getting tuckered out...which was expected. Still didn't stop her from poking fun whenever possible. She had already attempted giving him an oversized stick earlier, which had been met with flat response.

"That's nothin' kiddo. Wait till you learn to keep your balance on ice skates AND try to make a shot past a goalie. It ain't easy."

And there would be time for it. If she recalled correctly, they still required permission to leave anywhere, much less to an ice rink. She still had to find one here, or close by enough to Pilot Ridge. This was still Vermont, there had to be one she may have missed! The equipment she managed to gather for the occasion was minimal as well: a goalie mask, hockey sticks, the balls serving as stand-ins for pucks and shin guards. It was like her brother's street hockey all over again!

"Can we do passing again?"

"No problem! You seem to be doing fine with the shovel and wrist shots overall. The snap shot and slap shot will take a bit of time to get right." Hell, her own shots still needed work, Lyra readily admitted that. It took technique and finding the sweet spot to fire a puck with acceptable accuracy to bypass a goalie. The girl flipped her stick so the curve hits the floor.

"Is that stick working out for you by the way? There's still the really tall one just in case." She'd thumb behind her, smirking. That particular hockey stick was comically over-sized when placed next to Clem. Totally worth it!

[Clement Evans]

The tall stick thing had been met with a glare, an emphatic 'fuck you', and the thing thrown back at her.

"That's nothin' kiddo. Wait till you learn to keep your balance on ice skates AND try to make a shot past a goalie. It ain't easy."

"Yeah, like I'm going to do this on skates." Clement was just fine with running around on the floor. There was already a lot to keep track of, he had no idea how he'd do this while trying not to break his face open. It was only luck that one of the sticks Lyra had found was for a lefty, so at least he wasn't fighting that too.

He couldn't remember which shots were which, all he wanted was to keep from running after a lost ball every three minutes. Clement was more coordinated than he looked, and though he wasn't a natural or anything he'd put in a lot of thought and concentration and was doing well for a rank beginner.

Passing her the red and yellow ball, he scowled at her when she mentioned the tall stick again. "Yeah, fuck you. Maybe you wanna use it."

[Lyra Caruso]

"It's easier than it looks to do it on skates. But that will be a lesson on its own." At least come time for the winter where it would merit skates. But given the newbishness of the sudden friendly, it would have to be one step a a time, just as anything in the world would be.

"Be fore you know it, it would all be muscle memory."

As for the resound "fuck you", Lyra grinned cheerfully. Exactly what she wanted to hear, the sweetest sound of reacting to a silly situation. Comically overgrown hockey stick - yes. Totally worth it! That and maybe she meant it, the runt could probably grow into it some day in the distant future. For now however, the moment was called into attention by the echoing clatter of her hockey stick against the floor.

"Most great goals follow a great pass. There's even an old hockey saying that "an assist is just as important as a goal", for one always leads to the other. The perfect pass is one that barely comes off the ice and right onto the stick of your teammate. We'll build to that as we go along."

She places her ball on the floor. Her bottom hand gripped a little more than a third of the way down the shaft of her stick, the top hand just underneath the end, and the puck resting in the middle of the blade of the stick.

"Forehand pass - you use this one when you see there's little to no traffic between yourself and the stick of your teammate. When you move forward, it should be one motion, including the follow through. As you move it forward, make sure to point your stick at your target on release." As she demonstrated, stopping short of actually hitting the ball into motion. "Key here is keeping your eyes on target, get ball or puck to your teammate."

NOW is where Lyra follows through, motioning the ball in one motion in his direction with a fair bit of speed. She would move away from him, picking another position in differing distance.

"Pass it back when you're ready, okay? Give yourself a little time to practice the motion and follow through." For now. With her, circumstances rarely remained static.

[Clement Evans]

Clement gave her an expression that told her exactly how much he'd be on ice skates this winter.

Someday he would be tall enough for the stick, but it wouldn't be anytime soon. At the moment he'd settle for being Lyra's height. As she started to turn on her inner hockey philosopher/coach, Clement listened with half an ear. A lot of it was stuff he couldn't do, or didn't care about, or didn't understand, but he did try to give her as much attention as he could.

When she demonstrated, Clement squinted and tried to follow. He put his hands on his stick in a pretty fair approximation of where hers were and took a few steps closer so he could see better. He already knew from the past quarter hour of chasing the ball around that it was harder than it looked. Instead of catching the ball on his stick, he caught it under one foot. He practiced doing what she said, except that he had to look at the stick as he did it instead of at... whatever. Back a little, forward, toe of the stick pointed toward... whatever. After a few tries he knew the only way he'd learn was with the ball, so he turned toward where Lyra stood and gave it a try. He didn't point his stick at the end, and he didn't hit it very hard, but... it wasn't bad. It rolled in her direction.

"When did you start learning hockey?" Clement liked it well enough, but didn't know if he'd ever be any good. Or how long being even competent took.

"How much does a hockey stick cost, anyway?" He was thinking that if he was going to practice any, he should get one, as long as they weren't really expensive. Besides, if he didn't use it for hockey he could probably hit other things with it.

[Lyra Caruso]

The watchful eyes of mini-coach Lyra observed the form. Clem was actually not a bad student; it reminded her of those early days, with the exception that her brother was a far rougher coach than she had been. The guy was a total newbie, so one had to adjust certain approaches. His approach and follow-through was not bad at all. The dark haired girl makes a small nod of a mental note and stopped the ball’s motion with the end of her hockey stick.

“Not bad Clem.”

How she was going to convince him to try ice skating, that was going to be an entirely different challenge. Nevermind! One step at a time is enough for the time being.

“Humn…” A small sound of musing escapes her as she tried to remember for herself through the haze of time to those early hockey days.

“Probably…since I was about like, eight-or-nine maybe? My brother taught me since he was actually allowed to play the sport. He was a terrifying coach though, but it kinda worked out for the better in some ways. He would do these super fast passes, nearly get hit with the ball or the stick, ram into me. If I fell on my ass in skates or my form was wrong, he’d snap at me. All sorts of crazy shit he had to probably deal with. However, I was able to hold up against the neighborhood guys after two years. Now -”

She’d point at him once. “As for the hockey stick, it honestly depends on the quality of the stick. The better grade and quality, the higher the price. I remember was dad was very pissed about the payment for equipment for my brother.”

THWACK!

Surprise pass to Clement!

The slap echoed to that very first pass her brother made to her; and this time, she was not on the receiving end.