Puck shots, p.9
Puck Shots, page 9
I dash back to my notebook and quickly run through the calculations.
“Holy shit, this could totally work,” I say, standing and running my fingers through my hair. The curls are a mess, and sticking out at all angles, which probably makes me look way more mad scientist than I would like to admit.
I hate that analogy, like the scientist had to be mad because he just happened to think differently to everyone else. Maybe that’s why I hate it. Because it basically describes me. Only I don’t want to be seen as mad or be singled out as totally different to everyone else. I want to belong. I want friends who really get me, and who I can just be myself around. Maybe this place isn’t the right fit for me.
“What are you working on there?” Magnus, another pledge, asks as he picks up the folded duck.
“Just a program that analyses movement and predicts changes to enhance the end result.”
His eyes go a little wide. This is the part where he laughs and calls me weird. Thee. Two…
“Wow, that’s cool. Did you do the programming?”
Okay, not what I expected.
“Yeah, I, umm, did the calculations and then wrote the code. It’s not perfect, but it looks like it might work.”
He leans over the screen watching as the 3D model runs through simulation after simulation.
“Looks like it’s working pretty well. If Pres finds out you can do this, you can bet he’ll be asking for your help figuring out what’s wrong with my left side flip pass. No matter what I do, I just can’t seem to get it.”
“I didn’t know you play lacrosse.”
“Yeah, but don’t hold that against me. I’m not one of those guys who thinks he can make a career out of playing a game. Except I kind of want to, but not lacrosse. I want to do this, what you’re doing. I mean, not this exactly, but creating programs, games. I want to be a game designer. I’m rambling. Sorry, I do that sometimes. I’m just going to go now.”
“You don’t have to go. What kind of games do you want to design?” I ask, and he sits beside me, a big smile on his face, like I just asked about his favorite thing in the world. Maybe I did.
“I love immersive games, like the ones that you have to wear a VR headset for. VR is the future of everything, after all, and I grew up on games like Zelda, Fallout and Kenshi, and being able to actually look around and feel like I was in those worlds would be so cool. Did you see that old movie with the guy and the like rotating trackpad thing he stood on when in the VR game?”
I nod.
“I want that. I want to make the real-life version of that experience, the suit for the tactile feeling of everything, the helmet that completely immerses you in the world and the trackpad, so you don’t go crashing into things or people when you play. I know it’s a long shot that I can even get through college before some tech giant has already created what I want to create, but the video game world is so huge that I’ll hopefully still be able to develop games that use that tech.”
“Sounds really cool.”
Magnus and I haven’t really talked before now, but the conversation is coming pretty easily, even for me.
“Let me know if you ever need any help with the code, or if you want to, you know, play video games,” he says, standing.
“Cool, I will, thanks.”
“No worries. Umm, here,” he says, passing me the duck.
“Keep it. I’ll probably make another one in an hour or so.”
“It’s clever. I thought I saw one of these in the kitchen the other day. Was that yours, too?”
“Yeah, it’s a sort of way to channel my nervous energy into something so that my brain can stop spiraling.” My face goes warm. Why did I tell him that? Way to scare off the only guy other than Cosmo who has shown any interest in being my friend.
“I get that. I doodle character ideas in a little black notebook when I’m stressing about something or bored or whatever.”
“Can I see them?”
Now his face grows a few shades pinker, and he rubs the back of his neck with one hand.
“I haven’t really shown anyone before.”
“That’s cool, you don’t have to. I’m not like some expert character art critic, or anything, so no pressure. You don’t have to. I was just thinking they are probably really cool.”
“They’re not. But I’ll think about it.”
“Really, no pressure.”
“Okay, well. Umm, I guess I’ll see you later, Eli. Good luck with your project.”
“Thanks, yeah, see you later.”
Okay. So there is at least one other guy in this house who I could be friends with. Maybe I could fit in here after all.
I pause the program and input the new data from my idea, then wait as the 3D model loads. It fails first go through, so I tweak the data until finally, the model connects with the puck and sends it straight into the 3D net.
“Yes!”
I quickly jot down the data that succeeded, save the outcome and then go back to watching the video of Cosmo on the ice.
It’s incredible seeing the way his body moves to push him faster up the rink. When you really analyze it, compare it to the movement of the rest of the guys on the team, it’s no wonder he’s quicker. Everything about the way he moves increases his speed, the angle of his skates pushing off the ice, the degree of bend in his knees, and the way that his arms move in perfect unison with his legs, all propel him forward.
“Creepy much,” Toby says, coming around the counter and opening the fridge door. I try to ignore him, but since that first day, he’s practically gone out of his way to give me a tough time. I thought standing up for him would win me some points, but he couldn’t care less. Thankfully, it did score me some with a few of the other pledges, meaning they don’t all look at me like I have two heads anymore, but just like in high school, the bully will find his tribe of sheep and keep on coming until he loses interest all on his own, so no use doing anything but try to ignore his antics.
“What are you like Flash’s little groupie now or something?” he asks, and a few of his sheep wander in behind him.
“Who’s what now?” Alex, an active brother, asks as he enters from the opposite doorway, and Toby chuckles.
“Eli here is a total groupie for Flash; he’s been recording his training matches and everything.
Alex steps around the counter and leans over my shoulder.
“That true, pledge?” he asks, and I shrug. Would there even be a point in denying it?
“I’ve been to a few training sessions, and I did record him and a few of the other guys.”
“See, he’s a total creeper,” Toby says, pointing his finger at me like they aren’t already all looking at me with that same “what the fuck is this guy’s deal” look on their faces. I close the laptop screen and go to stand, but Toby reaches over and grabs it. “Don’t go trying to delete the evidence now. The whole house should see what’s on here. They should know what kind of person is trying to pledge into KOK.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Cosmo suddenly says from the same doorway Alex came through, and all the guys turn to face him. Toby has a huge smirk on his face, like he’s somehow won something.
“Hand it over, pledge,” Cosmo says, and Toby fully marches toward him like an obedient soldier. Does this guy have an off button?
Cosmo opens the laptop and turns it to face me.
“Code, please?”
“Four, seven, nine, three, six,” I say, not caring that I’ll now have to change it. I update my passwords every month, so it’s really no big deal. He taps it in and turns the screen to face the rest of them, a paused image of him is on the screen, mid-skate towards the goal. Reaching over the screen, he hits play. The guys bunch around to get a better view, and when he swings and misses, they all make an “oohhhh” noise and some even laugh.
“So he’s been videoing your fuckups. That’s not really very groupie of you, pledge.” Alex laughs, and Cosmo chuckles, too.
“He’s the smartest guy in the house, so if he wants to analyze the fastest guy on the ice to make him even more deadly out there, who am I to stop him,” Cosmo says, closing the lid and passing it to me.
“So you knew he was recording?” Alex asks.
“I asked him to, so you all should just chill. If you spent as much energy on your butterfly catching as you did this, you might win a few more games this year.”
“We won plenty last year,” Alex sneers, but Cosmo is already laughing and walking away.
“It’s guys like Eli who will run the world one day, so maybe don’t be a dick to him because, Toby, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll be working for him one day.”
I laugh before I can stop myself, my stomach dropping in the seconds that pass in silence, but then Alex laughs, and the rest of the guys follow. Except Toby. He’s still sneering my way.
I grab my laptop and notebook before heading out back to sit by the woods. It’s late in the afternoon and the sun is starting to set so the trees are like a dark border cutting through the orange sky. I lie back on the grass, head resting in my hands as I watch the colors change.
Why was Cosmo so quick to shut down their ribbing? It wasn’t like he was putting on a show for them or anything either. It was…dare I say it, protective.
“Is this a private show or can anyone join?” Cosmo asks, and I turn my head to find him positioning himself next to me.
“I don’t own the sky, and technically, this is your house. I’m still a pledge here, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Do you think I’ve got even a small chance of staying in the house?” I ask, my heart thumping in my chest, more in answer to him being so close than the anticipation of his reply.
“Why did you want to pledge KOK?” he asks, turning his head to look at me. I try to keep my attention on the sky, but I can see him watching me intently out of the corner of my eye, and every fiber of my being wants to turn to him, too.
“I guess I was looking for a place I could feel like I belonged,” I say as his stare almost feels like it’s pulling me towards him. Forcing me to meet his gaze. I know it’s silly, I see the science behind everything, but science can’t explain this magnetic pull of his. I let myself give in and turn to meet his gaze. “I guess I was looking for a place where maybe…someone like you might actually notice someone like me.”
My heart races as the air grows thick, and warmer with each passing second. His blue-gray gaze moves from my eyes to my lips for a moment, and my pulse quickens. Am I still dreaming? I have to be dreaming. Because he looks like he’s leaning closer, bringing those gorgeous lips closer, and holy fuck, am I about to kiss Cosmo Parks? My heart is racing, palms sweaty, it’s like the air around us is vibrating with anticipation of this, our first kiss.
I lean in, too, ready for this. For him. Then something behind us crashes, and we both sit bolt upright, spinning to find a few of the pledges fighting in the kitchen.
“Guess your odds just got better. Time to kick a few guys out,” Cosmo says, climbing to his feet.
“Rule twenty-six,” I say with a smile.
“You memorized all of them, didn’t you?”
“If you don’t know the rules, how will you know how to not break them?”
“Someone should have told them.” He laughs while jogging up the back stairs. I watch through the window as he breaks the guys apart, his smile replaced by a stern frown as he shakes his head and points in the direction of the front door. Shocked expressions land on the rest of the guys, who were a few seconds ago enjoying watching the other two punch on. Did they all seriously not know the rules, or did they just think they wouldn’t enforce them?
I climb to my feet, brush off the back of my pants and head inside. Cosmo has training tomorrow, and if I’m going to prove to his friends I can actually help them, I should have more than his super-speed slap shot figured out. Wouldn’t want to be seen as playing favorites. Except I am. Because in this whole house Cosmo is my favorite person, and when he asked me why I wanted to be here, all I kept wanting to say is because you’re here, but that would be a sure-fire way to freak him out.
11
Cosmo
Iwatch the 3D simulation Eli created in total awe.
“You did this last night?”
“Yeah, I mean I’ve been working on the program for a week now, but I didn’t have real footage to run through it. It took a few tweaks to get it right, and in the future, it hopefully will look more like the person it’s mimicking. Right now, you’re all weird and blobby.”
“So you’re saying I look weird?” I ask, and he blushes.
“No. I didn’t mean… the blobs look weird. You look great. I mean, you look like you. Normal. I…”
He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, and I chuckle.
“Relax, I think the blobs are fine. It shows me the joints well so I can see what it wants me to do, sort of. Anyway, can we lay over top of the first video with this so I can see if there are any other differences I’ve missed?”
He turns the laptop toward him and starts typing.
“It will take me a few minutes.”
“No worries. I’m going to see if I can figure out that double tap part, let me know when you have it.”
He nods, and I skate over to the center of the ice. My legs are warm, muscle memory kicking in and sending me down the ice with ease. I scoop the puck, turn and fly toward the opposite net. When I pass Eli, he picks up his chin and watches me. My heart pounds faster, a fire building inside, propelling me forward. I want this to work. I want it to work for me, to land my super-speed slap shot, but feeling his eyes on me, I realize I want this for him, too. To show him how brilliant he is. My stomach is a nervous ball of energy. I hit the puck harder than the normal push I give it before trying for a shot, then swing my stick back higher and bring it down hard for the second hit. Only I sent the puck too far ahead and I have to stretch a little to get it and the move sends me off balance, spinning, I bend forward, skim my gloves and stick across the ice regaining my control before standing upright again and gliding toward the puck, my face hot and sweaty.
I glance toward Eli, but he’s not watching anymore, his face is concentrated, stern as he frantically taps away. Did he see me miss the shot? It was the first go at it. I’m good, but I almost never get anything at first go.
“I’ll get it,” I call out to him as I make my way back up the ice to my starting position.
“I have zero doubts.” He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the adorable way that they do when his smile is directed at me. It’s not like the smile he has when he wins a piece in chess, or when he folds one of his label origami animals. It’s bigger, brighter, like I somehow make him shine. Maybe I’m just seeing what I feel mirrored in him. Because ever since that first day when I saw him figuring out how to knock the lacrosse stick from the tree, determined, confident and a little cheeky, some kind of switch inside me turned on and I started to see a world beyond hockey. I saw him.
“Okay, I have it overlaid, come watch,” Eli calls, skating nervously onto the ice. His legs wobble just a little as he balances the laptop in his hands, but he’s gotten so much better in just two days. He slows, and I grab his wrists to stop him completely.
“Click play,” he says, and I watch as a sort of purple blob figure starts off skating down the ice. As it moves, it begins to separate, one faint red figure, the other faint blue. The knees of the blue bend more through the whole scene, and the strides are shorter, with deeper knee bends, and then the blue one falls behind a little but the red one misses the puck while the blue does the double tap and sends it flying into the computerized net.
I watch twice more, picking up on a few other tweaks to the way I move in the first video.
“Okay, I think I have it down,” I say, and he clicks pause and skates to the edge.
“Give me one sec, I want to film you again so we can upload the new videos to see the progression in real time.”
“Okay, say when,” I call, and when he comes to a slow stop about halfway between me and the net, he yells out, “Go.”
I take off with my usual long strides, pushing off at about a forty-five-degree angle to maximize power, then once I’m going, I shorten my strides, bending my knees a little more than I’m used to, the muscles in my legs warm, a tight ache moving through them. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be to get the stride shown in the video. My legs want to fall back on what they know, what’s easy, but I turn at the net and make my way back again, this time it’s easier, but just a little.
“I’ll go for it on this run,” I say, passing him, and he holds the phone up a little higher.
The cool air zooms past my face as I lean forward, keeping my center of gravity balanced, moving the puck side to side as I go, like I would do in a real game to keep the defenders guessing and make it harder for them to poke the puck away. That is if they can catch me. I pass Eli, my heart thumping with almost as much energy as it does in a real game. And when I tap the puck forward, then bring the stick back and swing with full force and it connects, a rush of adrenaline sweeps over me. The puck skims down the ice and rebounds off the back wall.
I zoom toward Eli, throwing down my stick and off my gloves before I wrap him in my arms and spin him in place.
“Woooo, fuck yeah!” I cheer, slowing our spin and lowering him back down, a lump now in my throat as his dark green eyes look up at me. “Sorry,” I say, releasing my hands.
“It’s okay,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand the way he does when he’s nervous and he doesn’t have a bottle to fiddle with the label. I’ve started to notice I do that a lot. Make him nervous, and I’m starting to realize, I like it. I like being the reason his face flushes a light pink, and he smiles that bright smile that seems only for me.
