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icarusHello, welcome again to the Playground. I've now unlocked this post for general viewing, not just the Playground folks.
In doing my massive Excel sheet outline, I realized that I was missing an introduction to Rodney early in the story. This falls right after John's failure at the Nationals and before John and Rodney meet.
Out Of Bounds: Coach of the Year
by Icarus
"Yes, well, I have to spend more time with her because she's better than all three of you put together!" Rodney explained with a sweeping gesture.
Rodney McKay, former world champion, perhaps a little chunkier than he'd been ten years ago, with a hairline going north faster than a thirty year old would care to admit, surveyed the beneficiaries of his years of experience and knowledge. Three young mournful faces looked up at him.
He knew he was in trouble when the pouts began. His wide shoulders slumped. No, no, no, not with the pouting....
"Aw, come on, it's not like I said you were terrible!" He attempted a reasonable tone, hands spread. "You'll all be perfectly adequate skaters one day, I'm sure, it's just that when there's real talent at hand, I need to focus my efforts—"
Logic wasn't working. It never worked on nine year olds. Even their little pigtails seemed to droop as the pouts deepened and their eyes started to shine with tears.
"Mr. McKay!" a woman's voice called out from the edge of the rink.
"Go away, I'm busy!" he shouted, casting an impatient wave over his shoulder. "No, no, you don't – Stop looking at me like that, it's not like I ran over your puppy! It's just...." One of the girls sniffled and there was a little gasp of a smothered sob from the other.
"...Oh, no...." he whimpered, his blue eyes going wide, his mobile face desperate.
"Mr. McKay?" the same voice repeated.
"What?!" He spun around and indicated the girls. "Yes, yes, I realize I screwed up here – it's pretty obvious since they're all crying." He turned to his star pupil who was biting a quivering lip, his voice turning scornful. "Oh, now what are you crying about? I just complimented you!"
Her shoulders started to shake with sobs. Then all four of them followed suit, crying openly, their faces red, tears leaking down their cheeks.
"Oh, God." Rodney put his face in his hand.
"Mr. McKay?!" the woman said again more insistently.
"What?!" he snarled.
"Telephone!" The woman wore a blue suit and held out the cordless phone from the press box.
"Oh."
Who would call him on that line?
Rodney pressed his hand to his forehead as if he had a headache, then ran his hand through his hair and rolled his eyes skyward. He sliced the air with a dramatic cutting gesture. "That's it! Cancel all my group classes – I'm doing private lessons only from here on out."
He stabbed a finger at a tiny little girl with freckles and a complete inability keep time with the music. "You! Spins."
"You—" He pointed at the tall thin girl with long dark hair who spent more time falling than skating. "—get the music, I want to see your entire short program.
"And you." He indicated the one who day-dreamed and didn't care about skating, forced to live out her mother's fantasy. He waved a hand vaguely at her. "...I dunno, practice jumps or something."
Then he turned to Jennifer, his star, her frizzy hair up in a tight braid and eyes wide and scared. "And you, toughen up. You're going to beat girls twice as good as they are and they'll all cry." He clapped his hands several times as the dispirited girls didn't respond, still wracked with tears. "If you have energy to cry, you have energy to skate!" he declared as he slid to the edge of the rink to accept the call.
Gliding to a stop with a sigh, he shouldered the phone and said brightly, "Rodney McKay, Evil Overlord and skating coach."
"Evil Overlord?" a man's slightly nasal voice puzzled.
"I work part-time." He lifted his face from the phone and shouted, "I don't see much skating, girls! Thank you." They started shuffling along the ice, though it barely qualified as movement, let alone figure skating.
"Personally, I was mostly interested in the skating coach end of the deal, but you should hang onto that Evil Overlord gig. I hear it's a growth industry."
"I'm sorry. And you are...?" Rodney squinted at the phone.
"John Sheppard. I was at Nationals last year."
"Never heard of you," Rodney said.
"Yeah. That would be part of the problem."
In doing my massive Excel sheet outline, I realized that I was missing an introduction to Rodney early in the story. This falls right after John's failure at the Nationals and before John and Rodney meet.
Out Of Bounds: Coach of the Year
by Icarus
"Yes, well, I have to spend more time with her because she's better than all three of you put together!" Rodney explained with a sweeping gesture.
Rodney McKay, former world champion, perhaps a little chunkier than he'd been ten years ago, with a hairline going north faster than a thirty year old would care to admit, surveyed the beneficiaries of his years of experience and knowledge. Three young mournful faces looked up at him.
He knew he was in trouble when the pouts began. His wide shoulders slumped. No, no, no, not with the pouting....
"Aw, come on, it's not like I said you were terrible!" He attempted a reasonable tone, hands spread. "You'll all be perfectly adequate skaters one day, I'm sure, it's just that when there's real talent at hand, I need to focus my efforts—"
Logic wasn't working. It never worked on nine year olds. Even their little pigtails seemed to droop as the pouts deepened and their eyes started to shine with tears.
"Mr. McKay!" a woman's voice called out from the edge of the rink.
"Go away, I'm busy!" he shouted, casting an impatient wave over his shoulder. "No, no, you don't – Stop looking at me like that, it's not like I ran over your puppy! It's just...." One of the girls sniffled and there was a little gasp of a smothered sob from the other.
"...Oh, no...." he whimpered, his blue eyes going wide, his mobile face desperate.
"Mr. McKay?" the same voice repeated.
"What?!" He spun around and indicated the girls. "Yes, yes, I realize I screwed up here – it's pretty obvious since they're all crying." He turned to his star pupil who was biting a quivering lip, his voice turning scornful. "Oh, now what are you crying about? I just complimented you!"
Her shoulders started to shake with sobs. Then all four of them followed suit, crying openly, their faces red, tears leaking down their cheeks.
"Oh, God." Rodney put his face in his hand.
"Mr. McKay?!" the woman said again more insistently.
"What?!" he snarled.
"Telephone!" The woman wore a blue suit and held out the cordless phone from the press box.
"Oh."
Who would call him on that line?
Rodney pressed his hand to his forehead as if he had a headache, then ran his hand through his hair and rolled his eyes skyward. He sliced the air with a dramatic cutting gesture. "That's it! Cancel all my group classes – I'm doing private lessons only from here on out."
He stabbed a finger at a tiny little girl with freckles and a complete inability keep time with the music. "You! Spins."
"You—" He pointed at the tall thin girl with long dark hair who spent more time falling than skating. "—get the music, I want to see your entire short program.
"And you." He indicated the one who day-dreamed and didn't care about skating, forced to live out her mother's fantasy. He waved a hand vaguely at her. "...I dunno, practice jumps or something."
Then he turned to Jennifer, his star, her frizzy hair up in a tight braid and eyes wide and scared. "And you, toughen up. You're going to beat girls twice as good as they are and they'll all cry." He clapped his hands several times as the dispirited girls didn't respond, still wracked with tears. "If you have energy to cry, you have energy to skate!" he declared as he slid to the edge of the rink to accept the call.
Gliding to a stop with a sigh, he shouldered the phone and said brightly, "Rodney McKay, Evil Overlord and skating coach."
"Evil Overlord?" a man's slightly nasal voice puzzled.
"I work part-time." He lifted his face from the phone and shouted, "I don't see much skating, girls! Thank you." They started shuffling along the ice, though it barely qualified as movement, let alone figure skating.
"Personally, I was mostly interested in the skating coach end of the deal, but you should hang onto that Evil Overlord gig. I hear it's a growth industry."
"I'm sorry. And you are...?" Rodney squinted at the phone.
"John Sheppard. I was at Nationals last year."
"Never heard of you," Rodney said.
"Yeah. That would be part of the problem."
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no subject
Date: 2007-03-22 12:51 pm (UTC)*g*
He just can't win with children, can he? (And really, logic with nine year olds?)
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Date: 2007-03-23 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-22 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-22 02:41 pm (UTC)You have the kid's reaction down perfectly. Those poor girls.
I really love your Rodney. And John's snark over the phone - establishes their relationship right from the first word.
You have John saying, "John Sheppard. I was in the Nationals last year."
It would be more natural for a skater to say, "John Sheppard. I was at Nationals last year." "...in Nationals" also works, but there wouldn't be "the".
This piece was great. I hope you put it in the story!
no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 08:26 pm (UTC)Your Evil Overlord,
Icarus
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Date: 2007-03-22 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-22 04:40 pm (UTC)Bwheee! Now I wanna answer the phone that way. Hmm, maybe I'll try to confuse the next telemarketer.
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Date: 2007-03-23 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-22 10:13 pm (UTC)Heh.
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Date: 2007-03-23 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 01:12 am (UTC)hehehe!
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Date: 2007-03-23 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 03:43 am (UTC)"Yeah. That would be part of the problem."
Yes. Rodney would appreciate an opening line like that.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 08:32 pm (UTC)