Coach Amelia Pierce
April 11, 2010 11:02 PM
Flying Lessons for First Years by Coach Amelia Pierce
The problem with first years at a magical school like Sonora were that they came from a variety of different backgrounds with hugely different levels of flying experience. And yet, Flying Lessons were still required for all of them.A fair number would already know how to fly a broom with something close to expertise, having been raised in magical families and played broom tag or informal games of Quidditch with family members for most of their lives. Others would think flying on brooms was something only done on television shows and even if magic was real, surely that was just Hollywood.
The class was neccessary, of course. Flying was intrinsic enough to the wizarding world that it was only right to give muggleborns and half-bloods who may not have much (or any) experience a chance to figure out how it all worked. Brooms were an important mode of transportation in addition to their obvious application to sports. And since not even all purebloods taught their children to fly, the problem was that it was next to impossible to figure out who still needed to these basics and who didn't. So everyone in the first year had to take Flying Instruction.
It was optional for older students, whether they were transfers who didn't have flying lessons at their previous school/place of instruction or if they just wanted to take it again. But those were not the students she was worried about. If they didn't want to be there, they didn't have to be. It was the youngest group that were likely to cause problems either because they were too good for the class already or because they just didn't want to learn.
Once it seemed they had all arrived and she wouldn't have many more stragglers arriving, she gave them all a stern look. "Today, you are here to learn how to fly a broom," she announced in a loud voice that wasn't shouting but still carried very well over the open air of the Pitch. She'd never been or met a drill sergeant, but she was using the kind of voice that television told her they used. "My name is Coach Pierce, and I am going to show you how."
She looked them over, making instant assumptions and bets with herself about which ones didn't need the instruction. "Some of you probably already know how, I'd like you all to stand over there," she pointed to a patch of grass on the Pitch ground away from where she'd piled a stack of brooms. "For everyone else, I'd like you to collect a broom," she pointed at the pile, "and stand in a line right here. I'll be with you in a moment. That means everyone," she added to a student who looked reluctant to do so.
Since the Women Against Immorality in the League (better known to all as WAIL) began to make waves about how improper it was for girls to play Quidditch, some girls had begun to think the lesson shouldn't apply to them. That was not the case in this school.
She walked over to where the kids who had flown before were gathered, while the rank beginners fought amongst themselves to find a school broom that struck their fancy. "Okay, you guys, I'm going to exempt you from the lesson and let you free fly. I know I considered myself an expert flier by the time I was eleven," she'd been wrong, and anyone here who thought the same also was, but she wasn't going to burst their bubble yet, "so I imagine some of you also consider yourselves above a beginner lesson. I'll allow you to get out of it." It had worked out well enough last year, and she didn't want to have to try to keep discipline with a group of kids who didn't need her help.
She jerked a thumb back toward the broom pile. "If you'd like, there's a Quaffle over there you can throw around, and school brooms if you didn't bring your own. Please keep in mind that this is a privilege that I don't need to grant you. Any trouble from any of you, and you will all be back down here re-learning how to hover three feet over the ground, is that clear?" She frowned sternly and looked around with her best disciplinarian 'mess this up and you will regret it for months' Look and then nodded in dismissal. "Good. Have fun."
With that, she returned the beginners, who were mostly lined up by now. Taking a spot in front of them, where they could see her and she could see all of them, she summoned over her own broom and put it down beside her. "I want you all to put your broom down next to you. If you're left handed, put it on your left side, if you're right handed, put it on your right."
Once they seemed to have accomplished that, she instructed, "Now put your hand out over the broom and say 'Up!' very firmly, as if you were giving a pet dog a command. Not yet!" she ordered when a few kids opened their mouths and looked about to give it a try. "Wait for the demonstration. Up!" She commanded, and the broom leaped up into her hand. "It may take a few tries, but it should eventually come up to your hand. Once you get that far, put one leg over the broom, like this," she straddled the wooden handle.
"All of these brooms will have a cushion charm on them, so use that to find where you're supposed to sit. At this point, you may kick off the ground and hover, once you feel stable in that, you may try moving around a little bit, but don't go too fast or too high yet. Raise your hand if you need any help."
OOC: Welcome, first years, to the first of your classes. Keep in mind the site rules and write detailed posts meeting the minimum length requirements. Your quality of post will be reflected in the number of House Points you earn for your character.
Subthreads: *Gulps* by Autumn Collins with Nicodemus Sawyer
Hey, who's got the Quaffle? by Tristan Volkmann [Pecari] with Colleen Ryan, Tristan, Sam Bauer
Strange, I usually sweep with these by Marian Parker with Dani Adair, Marian
Anything but this again by Ellie McGill with Neal Padrig, Ellie
I am flying!! by Sophia Randolph with Kirstenna Melcher, Dmitri Petrovskii
On and off by Cosette Miller with Samantha Hamilton, Cosette
Why oh WHY do I have to do this?! by Caleb Nichols with Brian Moore, Caleb
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Coach Amelia Pierce
Flying Lessons for First Years
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Coach Amelia Pierce
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Tristan Volkmann [Pecari]
April 12, 2010 5:07 PM
Hey, who's got the Quaffle? by Tristan Volkmann [Pecari]
“Blah blah blah fly a broom blah blah Coach blah bleh blah.” That’s pretty much all Tristan had gotten out of the professor’s speech. It’s not that he couldn’t understand what she was saying from his spot in the first row or that he was a poor listener, but he hadn’t gotten to really practice since he got here. A few times on the pitch by himself was okay, but now he had an audience from other Houses to show off to and intimidate. As boring as flying lessons sounded top the boy who grew up on a broom, at least he was still getting some class credit for something he was naturally a pro at. Why complain over that?Tristan’s spirits kicked up when Coach Something-or-Other let him and anyone else who had experience do what they wanted. Great, so it wasn’t lessons anymore, it was free-time. It was like she knew just how to put a smile on his face. She quickly became his favorite (albeit his only at the moment) professor. He even decided to hold back on the ‘extreme tricks’ so as not to give her a reason to be ticked off or displeased with him. If that didn’t scream ‘I respect you, Coach Something-Or-Other!’ he didn’t know what did.
He wanted to be the first student to run over and mess around with the Quaffle, but he noticed other kids already at it. He frowned, not keen on the idea of sharing since he wanted as much practice in for the upcoming Try-Outs for his House as he could get, but he surmised that he’d get more out of his work if he played with someone else anyone. After all, Quidditch was a team sport. “Hey,” he called out to the person holding the Quaffle, “is it alright if I toss around that Quaffle with you?”
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Tristan Volkmann [Pecari]
Hey, who's got the Quaffle?
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Tristan Volkmann [Pecari]
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Colleen Ryan
April 15, 2010 8:50 AM
This could go badly wrong! by Colleen Ryan
Colleen loved flying. She definitely knew how to fly, but she would never consider herself an expert. She had limited training and disapproving parents, plus with no siblings to mess around with she had never seen the incentive to spend hours on her broom. This also meant she was sincerely lacking in any kind of Quidditch skills and she dreaded the moment her poor hand-eye coordination was discovered.Colleen moved off with the other students who already knew how to fly when the teacher told them to. She suspected that everyone here grew up with enough magic to at least understand Quidditch and she felt a little more at home knowing that she wasn’t the only one who considered magic a given. Colleen tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and was about to mount her broom when the Quaffle landed in her arms. She looked down at the red ball, her mouth slightly open in surprise.
She was looking around for the person who threw it at her, so she could chuck it back, when someone spoke to her. “Is it alright if I toss around that Quaffle with you?” Colleen blanched slightly, her eyes widening to join her mouth. She clamped her jaw shut and forced her brain to work. “Sure.” She smiled; wincing slightly knowing how badly wrong this could go. She threw the Quaffle over to the boy so that she could mount her broom. She rose and went to hover by the boy. Sticking out her hand, her usual joyous smile back on her face she introduced herself. “Colleen Ryan, Teppenpaw.”
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Colleen Ryan
This could go badly wrong!
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Colleen Ryan
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Tristan
April 15, 2010 6:58 PM
I'm hoping it goes goodly well by Tristan
“Sure,” the girl said. Tristan questioned whether or not she really meant that since her eyes were all wide and spaced out when she agreed to practice. As soon as he began to open his mouth to double-check, she had thrown the ball up at him and flew to his side. She put her hand out, pushing straight through his personal bubble. He cocked a brow at it, wondering what the heck she wanted him to do with her hand. She gave him a cheery smile and said, “Colleen Ryan, Teppenpaw.”Oh, duh, she wanted him to shake her hand. His mind was so focused on Quidditch he didn’t even consider the fact that the two were complete strangers. Not that her telling him her name would help him get to know her much – he was awful with names. He couldn’t even really remember his roommates names, not that they had to know that.
To return the favor, he shrugged and supposed that it was only right to give his name, too. He placed the hand that wasn’t holding the Quaffle in hers and gave it a firm shake. “Tristan Volkmann, Pecari.” When the shaking was over, he gave her an amused smirk as he put both his hands on the ball. He assumed since she was holding the Quaffle earlier that she had every intention of joining Quidditch. (Really, why else would she agree to practice with him otherwise?) “So, if you make the Quidditch team for your house, we’re rivals, you know. But as much as I heard it’s bad luck to practice with the other team, I think I’ll make an exception. I mean, you have a good arm to be a chaser at any rate, did you know that? That throw earlier was pretty good from the distance you were at. A real natural.” He juggled the ball to himself as drifted backwards on his broom to make some space. When he was far enough away, he pulled his hand back – “But being a natural can only get you so far, so let’s try to get the most out of this practice time for try-outs!” – and swung it forward so it had a bit of a spin to it as it hurled in her direction. If she caught as well as she threw, he had no doubt she’d catch it.
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Tristan
I'm hoping it goes goodly well
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Tristan
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Colleen
April 16, 2010 10:14 AM
It could go either way by Colleen
When Tristan had shaken her hand, Colleen grinned once more, her natural happiness in full flow now she was up in the air once again. She tucked a piece of hair that was blowing in her face behind her ear so she could pay attention to what the boy was saying. She wasn’t much of a person to have rivals and hadn’t really considered that other people might consider her so. She smiled warmly when he complimented her throw, he seemed to know what he was talking about, so she could only assume he was being sincere.As he drifted back, Colleen flew slightly higher so as to optimise her vision. The wind blew her hair around her face and she brushed it back in annoyance. She would have to remember to tie it up in future when planning on flying. When she had cleared her vision, she was slightly startled to see that Tristan had thrown the ball back at her. “Merlin.” She gasped as she caught the ball in her left hand, her right reaching up to secure it. Unfortunately she wasn’t concentrating and the force of the throw knocked her off balance and she fell upside-down, clutching her broom between her knees and hanging on to the Quaffle with her fingertips.
“Bother.” She chuckled, tucking the ball under her left arm allowing her to pull herself back upright onto her broom. “Somehow I think I’ll make a better beater than keeper.” She laughed, throwing the ball back to Tristan, hoping that in future she could keep upright.
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Colleen
It could go either way
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Colleen
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Tristan
April 17, 2010 10:32 AM
I hope for the best by Tristan
Tristan hadn’t even thought twice about whether or not she would catch the Quaffle. He assumed she would. To be completely fair to him, he assumed this all before her hair started to blow into her face and she said, “Merlin.” when she noticed the ball zooming at her. Crap, she really hadn’t been ready for it! Tristan frowned at his stupidity, flying through the air so his practice partner wouldn’t get concussed before she even got a chance to throw it back. Maybe he could make it in time, or at least shove her so her head wouldn’t get hit.Of course, as soon as he started to panic she caught it with her left hand. Tristan groaned and stopped in the air, his head dropping a bit. Geeze, that was close, he was going to have to make sure she was looking the next time he aimed a ball at her. And just when he thought she was in the clear, the girl was swung upside-down on her broom, her knees barely bending to keep her on the broom and her hands clenched to the Quaffle.
Now that’s some dedication. She’d be great competition, he decided. And since they’d both be Chasers, he’d really be in for a good game, which is something that he didn’t have much of back home.
Wait, strike that – she wanted to be a beater? WHY?! He caught ball and frowned to himself. “I dunno, I think you have what it takes, but what do I know?” A Beater, honestly. The girl was wasting her potential. Though, if she was better at Beating… even better competition! “Can’t wait to see how good you are at it, though,” he said honestly, throwing the ball back after the wind stopped blowing so much.
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Tristan
I hope for the best
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Tristan
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Colleen
April 17, 2010 3:21 PM
I smile at the worst by Colleen
“Well,” Colleen began as she reached out to catch the ball, which spun through her hands, hitting her square on the nose. She caught it again before it hit the ground. “You may have noticed that I’m not the best catcher in the world.” Colleen threw the ball back, a little harder than necessary in her frustration. She was glad that they were close enough that the ball had only bruised her nose as opposed to broken it. “Sorry.” She muttered, in response to her bad throw.Her good nature returning, she began to explain why she preferred the position of beater to chaser. “Well, for one I can’t catch and beater is the only position on the field which doesn’t require a certain expertise in catching.” Colleen chuckled. “In my opinion, the keeper would probably get cold not moving and with my skill a broken nose. The seeker is sure to get dizzy and the chasers have to do all the work. The beater is the most fun. I expect you're a good chaser though, you don't seem to have issues with catching.”
Colleen smiled at Tristan. She highly expected that he would find her reasons a little silly, but she hoped that he would see that she was telling the truth about her catching. In fair she wasn’t a typical beater. Her thin bony frame wasn’t in style with the usual muscular beaters and her good nature and cheery attitude wasn’t synonymous with someone who likes to hit bludgers even if it is at the opposition. But she had a strong arm and good aim and it was good to get her anger out somehow without anyone blaming her for injuries.
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Colleen
I smile at the worst
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Colleen
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Tristan
April 17, 2010 5:31 PM
I try to be ready for anything by Tristan
This girl had no excuse this time: Tristan knew that she had to have seen the ball when he’d thrown it to her. So when the Quaffle spun between her outstretched fingers and into her nose, he could honestly say that he wasn’t expecting it. He winced, having known what it felt like to get his in the face with any Quidditch ball (yes, even the Snitch). None of the memories were pleasant. He subconsciously rubbed his nose. “Hey, you okay?”She didn’t answer him, instead mentioning how she wasn’t the best at catching. Um, yeah, okay, he believed that now. It just took her getting abused twice by the ball for it to sink in. He could’ve hit himself; he was usually pretty good at figuring out what position players would excel in.
He took note of her bruised nose, paying more attention for the first time since he got on the Pitch about something non Quidditch related (technically it was a Quidditch-related injury, but that’s besides the point). He heard her apologize (what for was beyond him) and barely registered the fact she threw the ball back to him. He lamely lifted his hands to catch it, not realizing how hard she’d thrown. But boy, when that thing slammed into his hand and pushed them into his chest, he lost his breath. No doubt the girl had an amazing throwing arm. She just couldn’t catch to save her life.
Her face lit up, which seemed to be a typical look for her, and she started to talk about why she’d rather Beat instead of Chase or Keep. He understood where she was coming from – they were all good reasons, and does someone really need to have to defend a position they like more so than another? It was all subjective when you got down to it.
He smiled when she complimented his skills. “Thanks,” he said happily. Well, she knew what she was talking about. Doubting her after that would just be a waste on his part. And he somehow couldn’t see her whacking things around with a force from that arm being an issue for her, even though she would possibly be the most dainty Beater he’s ever seen. "Alright, I’ll give it to you. If you say you think you’d make a good Beater, then I think you’d make a good Beater.” But you’d also make a good Chaser if you could catch he added to himself. He looked to throw the Quaffle at her again and thought that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to use all his force. So he gently tossed it over, noticing her nose once the Quaffle left his hands. “Yeah, and about your nose, it’s not looking too great. Are you sure you’re fine?” He really didn’t think a nose should be turning that shade of purple…
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Tristan
I try to be ready for anything
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Tristan
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Colleen
April 18, 2010 2:32 PM
I try and fail by Colleen
Colleen looked down at her nose. Or tried to, it was harder than she thought and she only proceeded in going cross eyed. Shaking her head she tried a different tactic of prodding at her nose. It didn’t seem to hurt too much, a twinge now and then but nothing major. “I think I’m okay. It isn’t broken.” Colleen winced when she prodded a bit too hard. “At least I think it isn’t.”She held out her hands to catch the Quaffle and was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t slip through her fingers or bash her in the face. This took her attention from her nose and she grinned. “That might’ve been a gentle throw but it still feels good to catch it for once.” When he mentioned her nose Colleen tried to peer at it again before she shrugged.
“I’ll be fine. It’s probably just a little bruised. Nothing serious.” She threw the Quaffle back, a little gentler than her last throw, but still hard enough to be considered a good throw. After one last prod at her nose she gave up. Whatever had happened to it, it would heal perfectly fine.
“So,” Colleen began, feeling a change of topic would be good, she didn’t want to dwell on what her nose looked like any more. “I’m guessing with your love of Quidditch that you’re either half or pureblood?” She secretly hoped that he was pureblood just so that she could write to her parents and tell the truth about someone she’d met. Though she would have to leave out the fact that she met him whilst on a broom unless she wanted Mother to have a heart attack, but it was a start in the right direction.
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Colleen
I try and fail
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Colleen
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Tristan
April 18, 2010 2:48 PM
That sounds pessimistic by Tristan
Tristan smirked when the girl (gosh, he needed to work on this name-recall issue he had) finally caught the ball without much incident. It seemed that she would rather feel the success of doing something right rather than go hardcore, which Tristan wasn’t going to argue with. Hey, easy or hard, practice was practice.She seemed also fine with the fact her nose was banged up pretty bad, so Tristan shrugged it off. It’s best, if she was going to play Quidditch for a House Team, that she got used to shrugging off injuries now anyways. He wasn’t about to go easy on anyone who got in his way of winning a game and would be insulted if anyone didn’t try their hardest because they were afraid of getting hurt. What kind of game would that be anyways?
“So,” the girl said, nudging the nose topic aside, “I’m guessing with your love of Quidditch that you’re either half or pureblood?”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Pureblood, not that it should matter.” He had met enough pureblood snobs in his life (his parents being two of them) and he hoped this girl wouldn’t end up being like them. But then again, she was on a broom talking about being a Beater, so maybe she wasn’t a pureblood snob, or even a pureblood at all. “But yeah, I seriously love the sport, thanks for noticing.” To make sure she wasn’t only talking to him still because of his bloodline, he tossed the ball back and asked, “So, since you know enough about Quidditch to know what I’m talking about, I’m thinking you’re half or pure yourself?”
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Tristan
That sounds pessimistic
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Tristan
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Colleen
April 18, 2010 3:13 PM
At least I go down smiling by Colleen
Colleen smiled when Tristan didn’t press the nose issue. She caught the ball again, without incident, although she was every close to dropping it. She laughed when he mentioned his love of the sport. She liked it when people really did get involved with their passion in life. She liked it even more when they couldn’t shut up about it. She preferred people to be happy and talkative as opposed to glum and silent.“I’m pureblood and hating it.” She replied, glad that he wasn’t one for thinking that girls shouldn’t fly. “My parents would seriously kill me if they knew I was trying out for Quidditch. I had to buy my own broom since they refused.” Colleen put on a snobbish voice, in her opinion a perfect imitation of her Mother. “Proper pureblood girls shouldn’t fly, it is unseemly.” Colleen snorted. “I don’t understand them.”
“They’ll win, though. They always do.” Colleen mentally shook herself. This was the one topic designed to lower her usually permanent spirits and was the second time it had been brought up. She threw the ball back, slightly hard. To get her spirits back up she gripped her broom and rolled over. When she sat back up she was grinning. “Sucks to them, though. They can control my future but not what I do now.” She smiled. Her small rebellion against her parents standards was enough for now, even if the future was bleak.
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Colleen
At least I go down smiling
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Colleen
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Tristan
April 18, 2010 6:11 PM
I'd rather go up smiling by Tristan
Being a pureblood wasn’t something that Tristan hated, but the lifestyle and people that came with it wasn’t anything to be throwing confetti at. He listened as the girl admitted that her parents wouldn’t even buy her a broom because ‘good pureblood girls and defenseless and delicate’ and whatever other garbage they’d both heard people spew at them. He agreed, since he didn’t understand them either. If he had to be a pureblood, he was glad he was a pureblood male – at least that way he got pats on the back for playing Quidditch instead of whatever treatment a girl would get for it.He smirked to himself. If he was a girl, he’d probably just be really sneaky about his passion for the sport, as he was guessing (hoping) this girl would be.
“They’ll win, though. They always do.” She said. Tristan knew there was no point comforting her, and he played around with the Quaffle in his hands awkwardly. If there was one thing he understood about snobby purebloods, it was that family controlled your life in the end. Who you’d hang out with, the family you’d marry into, your job, the things you did; it all came down to what they wanted.
The girl smiled when she announced the same thoughts he had. Sonora was, in a way, a quiet riot. He tossed the Quaffle back smiling wider. “Cool it, Rebel,” he joked. “And concentrate on catching this thing. If I hit your head again, how are you supposed to play your best and get a spot on the Quidditch team to stick it to your folks?”
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Tristan
I'd rather go up smiling
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Tristan
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Colleen
April 20, 2010 3:38 PM
It's just good to be smiling by Colleen
The Quaffle once again slipped through Colleen’s outstretched hands. This time she simply dropped it towards the ground below, as opposed to bruising her nose. She quickly dived down and caught the ball before it hit the ground. She smiled when she saw her other classmates. Some were hovering just off the ground, with mixed expressions on their faces; others were still on the ground glaring at their brooms which were refusing to rise to their hands. Colleen remembered her first time on a broom. She had had to fly at night so her parents wouldn’t know, but other than that it was one of the best nights of her life. Which was saying something, but still.She flew back up so she was on a level with Tristan and laughed when he called her a rebel. “You haven’t hit my head. Yet.” Colleen muttered. “Just my nose.” She looked back down at her nose, she still couldn’t quite see what colour it was, but it hurt slightly more when she poked it experimentally. She frowned and flew closer to Tristan. “Does it look okay?” She asked. “I don’t want it to drop off or something.” She held out the Quaffle for Tristan to take, more concerned with her nose.
“I would quite like to get on the team. I wouldn’t tell my parents though, that is more than my life is worth. It’ll make me feel better.” Colleen smiled; a silent protest was a protest all the same. “Exactly what colour would you say it had turned?” She asked about her nose. It was starting to ache slightly.
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Colleen
It's just good to be smiling
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Colleen
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Tristan
April 22, 2010 6:33 PM
Only if it's a real one by Tristan
She almost dropped the Quaffle again, but Tristan was getting used to that so he just shrugged it off and watched as she dove to get it herself. Her nose became of interest after it caught her attention again. Neal grimaced when she poked it with her finger. He half expected her to wince. It reminded him of when he’d been nine and a Bludger wacked him in the face. He remembered how disappointed he was when his parents were more concerned about how ugly it made him rather than how much it hurt him. But that was too long ago to focus on at the moment. His nose was fine, the other girl’s… not so much.She didn’t look to happy about the situation either. “Does it look okay?” He tapped his broom and considered her question. She was still frowning when she said, “I don’t want it to drop off or something,” and passed the Quaffle off to him.
“If your definition of okay matches mine, then I wouldn’t say you’re okay,” he told her honestly. Unless she her nose always swelled like that, which he doubted.
He let out a breath of relief when she went back to his favorite subject, something he felt more comfortable thinking about than whether or not he really hurt her. Even he would feel bad if she had to go to the Hospital Wing and drink some awful potion. Bleh.
Tristan was about to tell her how pleased he was to hear she’d go out for her House Team when she switched back to her nose. “Exactly what colour would you say it had turned?”
He leaned forward, staring at it with wide eyes he’d seen nurses make at him when he got his nose hit. “It’s kinda a yellowish-purple color with some red. And it’s swelling.” He reeled back and tugged on his ear, a habit he’d picked up from his dad when he felt too negative. “I’m real sorry, that looks awful.” He wished he could remember her name so he could apologize properly, but he wasn’t about to ask her again when he was responsible for hurting her. Something told him that’d be a really bad idea.
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Tristan
Only if it's a real one
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Tristan
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Sam Bauer
April 24, 2010 12:03 AM
I'm pretty sure there's a saying about that. by Sam Bauer
Contrary to popular opinion, it wasn't impossible to fly in a large city; the trick was just to stay either very low to the ground or, for those who weren't eleven and thus didn't have the one, the only, the majestic Hannah Bauer concerned about their personal safety, to go up very high on a cloudy day. Sam would admit, though, that it was easier to get out on a broom when he visited his mother's family in Middle-of-Nowhere Arizona, and that they didn't do that nearly enough since they'd actually moved to another state. It had been a few months since they last had, and Sam was worried that he was going to look like a complete beginner during his first flying lesson.This was why he spent the entire time leading up to it in a state of high excitement, bouncing up and down slightly and talking rapidly to the person beside him. As a small mercy, especially at a school where a good portion of the students were bound to be purebloods who'd think he'd fallen from an extremely tall tree at an early age, he was pretty sure his ramble had only touched on Batman and had left out anything related to Lacy Johnson and Percy Jackson.
With an effort, he managed to pay attention to what Coach Pierce was saying to them. Sam's attention span shrank to that of a caffeinated fly before he had to do anything in front of people, but he'd learned to make himself focus - enough - a long time ago. It had been necessary; between him and his mom, he hadn't had a lot of room for making a bad grade. He wasn't Rachel-level brilliant, but he did okay.
Rachel. She was here, wasn't she? Yeah, yeah, Mom had said she'd gotten a letter from Uncle Jake, who'd had a bunch of letters from Rachel forwarded to him from Emily, and they said Rachel was at Sonora. In Crotalus, in fact, just like Sam, though the lack of Rachel-ness in the commons made him think a few details might have gotten lost in translation during all that letter-passing. Or maybe she just looked different; she'd sent a few letters, at first, after moving to California, but that had been almost four years ago, and Sam hadn't seen his cousin in at least two years. Wasn't it two years? He thought it had been; he was sure she hadn't been with Kate and Alicia when Mom had brought him back down for Han -
Wait. He was focusing. Yeah. Rachel could wait. Not making a fool of himself couldn't.
When those of them who knew the bare basics were given the coach's leave to fly around and maybe toss a Quaffle, Sam decided to take her up on that. He was one of the few who did; the only other people he spotted who didn't seem like part of the main group were a boy and a girl, who got hold of the Quaffle while he decided to fly around a little to make sure he still knew how to make the broom turn. Once he felt fairly comfortable, he flew toward the Quaffle-holders and winced at the sight of the girl's nose. Apparently, things had gotten interesting while he was getting reacquainted with the air.
"You guys mind sharing the Quaffle?" he asked, deciding not to comment on the girl's appearance. That wouldn't be nice, and Mom insisted that he try to be a gentleman. She saw the facts of him being somewhat excitable, deliberately nerdy, and the illegitimate son of a glorified waitress as being irrelevant to how he'd do in life, and manners were a big thing with her. Then, since he figured they'd gotten to the part where they told each other their names at some point in the past few minutes, he added, "I'm Sam."
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Sam Bauer
I'm pretty sure there's a saying about that.
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Sam Bauer
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