by Elicia Hyder
Lucy and I cheered.
At lunch the next day, I drove to Sylvia’s house as promised. Her son, Ben, answered the door. “Hello again, Grace. Come in.”
This time, from the foyer, I followed him to the dining room downstairs. It was a long rectangular room with hardwood floors and a large stone fireplace. The walls and ceiling were both painted red with stark white trim. A crystal—or hell, maybe diamond—chandelier hung in the center of the room over a table that could probably seat my entire derby team.
The end of it was set for three people.
“I feel like I’m in an episode of Dynasty every time I come over here,” I said, following him to the table.
“They actually filmed some of that here.”
“Really?” I asked.
He laughed. “No.”
“Jokes, huh? You certainly didn’t get that from your mother.”
“That is the truth.”
“Where is she?”
He pulled a chair out for me. “Her assistant, Marie, is bringing her down in the elevator.”
My eyes widened as I sat down. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house with an elevator before.”
“You have now. What would you like to drink? We have tea, sodas, lemonade…”
“Water would be fine.”
He walked over to a rolling drink cart and picked up a clear pitcher of water. He carried it to the table and filled my glass. “I hope we’re not pulling you away from anything important.”
“No. Kiara is manning the store. May I ask what this lunch meeting is about?”
Just then, Sylvia rolled into the room with the woman I had met the last time I visited. Miss Taylor was laying on the blanket across her lap. “Gra-ace, are you early?”
I looked at the time on my phone. “No, I don’t think so.”
“You must be early if you were here before me. I’m never late, especially in my own house.”
My eyes narrowed as my head fell to the side.
“Mom, leave her alone,” Ben said, pulling away the chair at the head of the table.
Marie walked around to the front of Sylvia’s chair. “Ma’am, would you like me to take Miss Taylor?”
“Yes.” Sylvia took her hands off the dog, and when Marie went to pick her up, Miss Taylor growled at her. At least it wasn’t just me.
Ben rolled his mother’s chair the rest of the way to the table. Then he poured her a glass of sweet tea and put a bendy straw in it, so she didn’t have to pick it up. “Marie, can you let Paul know we are ready for lunch,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
Sylvia’s hand reached for her. “Marie, have you eaten? Would you like to join us?”
It was a surprisingly sweet gesture.
Marie shook her head, holding Miss Taylor close to her chest. “I’m going to grab a bite out with my daughter while you have lunch, but thank you for the invitation.”
“Tell her I said hello,” Sylvia said.
“You look well,” I said to her when Marie was gone. “Are you feeling better?”
“I am today.” She looked at Ben across from me at the table. “What is it the doctor gave me?”
“An iron infusion and codeine,” he answered with a smile.
I chuckled. “I’ll bet you do feel better.”
A man, I assumed he was Paul, carried in a tray of three plates. He put one down in front of each of us. On it was a croissant stuffed with what looked like chicken salad, kettle-cooked potato chips, and some sort of red congealed salad on top of a lettuce leaf.
“This looks wonderful. Thank you, Paul,” Ben said. “Grace, I hope you like chicken salad.”
“I love it. Thank you.”
“Grace, I asked you here today because I want to talk to you about making more dresses in honor of Alexandria,” Sylvia announced.
Ben cleared his throat.
She rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “Lexi.”
I smiled. “I’d love to. What did you have in mind?”
“Now that the cat is out of the bag with what I’ve been doing, Ben suggested that if I want to really honor Lexi, I should talk to you about how we might partner with agencies like Hope Haven to help young girls have something special.”
“I love that idea. As I told you before, I have a few connections at Hope Haven. They could probably help us out.”
“Think you could set up a meeting?” Ben asked.
I finished a bite of my sandwich. “Of course. How soon would you like to try to do that?”
“The sooner the better. I’m dying, remember?” Sylvia said with a smirk. “How about tonight?”
“I’m actually busy tonight. I’m going to go watch a junior roller derby scrimmage.”
Sylvia parked in her wheelchair. “I would actually love to see that.” She looked at her son. “Can we go?”
“You want to go watch roller derby?” he asked, his head tilting to the side.
“Grace, didn’t you tell me that the sister of one of the girls who received a dress has a place on the team?” Sylvia asked.
“That’s right. She does. Her name is Hellissa.”
“Yes, Ben. I want to go watch Hellissa skate,” she said.
He chuckled. “That’s quite a name. Do you have a pseudonym too, Grace?”
“Britches Get Stitches.”
They both laughed.
“Because you’re a seamstress. That’s funny,” Ben said. “Of course we can go if you want to, Mom. Tell me, Britches Get Stitches, what time does it start?”
“The scrimmage starts at seven.” I reached into my purse. “If you’ll give me your number, I can text you the address.”
Sylvia groaned. “It’s rude to have phones at the dining table.”
I froze with my phone midway out of the bag.
“Mom, do you want to go or not?” Ben asked.
With a huff, she picked up her fork.
Ben smiled at me. “Please send the address.”
Relaxing, I pulled out my phone. On the screen was a missed text message from Clay.
Think we could talk sometime? Just us?
Eighteen
I didn’t return Clay’s text until after I left Sylvia’s. I almost didn’t return it at all, but he could’ve needed to talk about the house or Bodhi.
That was a big mistake. I texted him as I sat in her driveway.
Me: What do you want to talk about?
Clay: I don’t know. It’s just been a while since we’ve spoken without screaming at each other. I kinda miss that.
My thumbs twitched over the digital keyboard. “One…two…three…four—”
The phone buzzed.
Clay: I guess I miss talking to you.
“Oh. My. God.”
Me: I really don’t want to hear this. Please stop.
Miraculously, he did.
At 6:30 that evening, I locked up the store and drove across town to the Sweatshop. A whole new set of cars were parked in the lot. I parked next to a minivan sporting a bumper sticker that read, My roller girl could hip check your honor student.
I laughed and got out of my car.
A siren behind me caused me to turn. I saw Jason’s patrol car pull in, so I waited. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, getting out of the car.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I asked as he greeted me with a kiss.
“I decided to get ready for work early so I could join you for a little bit. Is that OK?”
“Of course. I always love seeing you, especially in your uniform.” I kissed him again.
We held hands as we walked into the building. Full Metal Jackie spotted me from across the room by the scoreboard. Her eyes doubled in size. She excused herself from the group of parents (I assumed) she was talking to, and walked over. About fifteen girls, all different heights, were circling the track.
“Britches! You’re here!” Jackie said excitedly.
“Yes, but only to watch the scrimmage and talk to you.”
She deflat
ed a bit.
“My nieces want to join the team, and they’re getting derby gear for Christmas. I need a list to give my brother.”
She looked at Jason. “Did you need an armed guard?”
“Ha. No. Jackie, this is my boyfriend, Jason Bradley.”
Boyfriend. I’d said it.
His hand tightened around mine. Thankfully, he was smiling. “Nice to meet you, Jackie.”
“You too. Britches, I can get you that list. Come on.” We followed her to the equipment cage in the back of the room.
As we walked, Jason lowered his voice. “Boyfriend, huh?”
“Shut up,” I whispered.
“You know…” Jackie said as she looked through a file box on one of the shelves. “I started coaching junior derby because my nieces wanted to play.”
My eyes narrowed with skepticism. “I feel like that’s the politician coming out in you. Is that true?”
She smiled. “No, but it was worth a shot.”
I shook my head as she handed me a sheet of paper. “You’re terrible.”
“Still, I think you’d be great at it.”
“What’s this about?” Jason asked.
I pointed at Jackie. “She wants me to coach the juniors’ team this season.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” he said.
“He’s a Little League coach,” I said to Jackie.
“And isn’t it super rewarding?” she asked him.
“It sure is.”
“I feel like I’m being ganged up on,” I said.
He put his arm around me.
“Why don’t you stay and watch practice? We’re going to scrimmage tonight.” Jackie said.
“That was already our plan. Monica is coming as well. So is another friend of mine and probably her son. I hope that’s OK.”
“The more, the merrier. Happy to have you. I’ve got to get back to it. Maybe we can chat afterward.”
When she was gone, I noticed Monica had walked in with her daughters, Maisie and Ariana. I waved and pulled on Jason’s hand. “Let’s go find a seat with Monica.”
Ariana squealed and ran to me. She had recently turned six. “Aunt Grace!”
I caught her in my arms and hugged her. “Hi. It’s so good to see you!”
“I’ve missed you,” she said, pushing her long dark hair out of her face.
“I’ve missed you too, kiddo.”
She looked up at Jason. “Is this your new Clay?”
Oh wow.
Monica looked as mortified as I felt. She grabbed Ariana from behind and pulled her against her legs. “Sweetheart, his name is Jason.”
She waved. “Hi, Jason.”
He waved back. “Hello.”
“Are you a policeman?” Maisie asked.
He knelt down in front of her. “I am. Are you the future roller girl?”
She blushed and ducked behind her mother.
“I’m going to be a roller girl too,” Ariana said proudly.
Monica guided her to a seat on the bleachers. “Not for a few more years, you’re not.” As we sat down, she mouthed the words “I’m so sorry” to me.
I waved my hand to dismiss it.
Jason leaned against my shoulder. “So, I’m your boyfriend, the ‘new Clay,’” he said, using air quotes.
I winced. “I’m sorry.”
He chuckled. “I thought it was funny.”
Sylvia arrived with Ben shortly afterward, and I made introductions all around. I sat between Jason and Sylvia in her chair. Sylvia was looking around the room. “Where’s the track?”
Confused, I pointed to the center of the room. “See the lines on the floor that make two rings?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the track.”
“No, it’s not. The track is a bowl.” She made her hands into the shape of a bowl, in case we didn’t know what one looked like.
“Most teams don’t play on a banked track anymore. The flat track is easier to set up and cheaper for everyone to use.”
She sat back with a huff. “Well, that’s boring.”
Jason laughed beside me.
“What do you know about a banked track?” Ben asked.
I turned to look at him. “Did you not know your mama was a roller derby queen once upon a time?”
His head pulled back. He pointed at Sylvia. “My mother?”
With a laugh, she nudged my arm. “Always keep them guessing, Grace. Always keep them guessing. Now, which one is Hellissa?”
Squinting my eyes, I watched the girls on the track. “See the girl in the black shirt and purple shorts? I think that’s her. I’ve heard she’s pretty good, so she should be interesting to watch.”
They finally looked ready to begin the scrimmage, and Hellissa lined up to be one of the jammers.
“Do you all know how this game is played?” I asked those sitting around me.
“Only a little,” Jason said.
Ben shook his head. “No idea.”
Sylvia tapped her temple. “Refresh my memory. It’s been a couple years since I’ve played.”
I smiled. “Each team has five players on the track for each two-minute jam, four blockers and one jammer—she’s the one with the star on her helmet. Blockers play both defense and offense. They try to stop the opposing jammer while trying to help their own jammer. Once the jammer makes it through the pack the first time, on her second lap, she collects one point for each opposing player she passes. The team with the most points at the end of the bout wins.”
“Who’s the player with the stripe on her helmet?” Jason asked.
“She’s the pivot. If the jammer gets in trouble, she can take the star off her helmet and give it to the pivot, making the pivot the new jammer.”
“How long is the game?” Ben asked.
Jason held up a finger. “First rule of roller derby is it’s called a bout, not a game.”
I clapped my hands together. “Good job, babe.” I looked back at Ben. “The bout is played in two thirty-minute periods. I doubt they will play that long tonight though. Scrimmages are usually shorter.”
A whistle blasted, and the two jammers took off down the track and pushed through the pack. Hellissa made it through the pack first. “See how the referee is pointing at Hellissa? She is now the lead jammer. She can call off the jam early if she wants. That’s usually done to keep the other team from scoring.”
“I think we only skated for one minute at a time,” Sylvia said.
I laughed. “I think a lot of us now would have a hard time making it through to the second pass to score any points in just one minute.” I pointed out to the track. “Hellissa just passed all the players on the other team including the jammer so she scored five points.”
“How many points can you score in a two-minute jam?” Jason asked.
Monica leaned forward. “The world record used to be forty-five points, and it was held by one of the skaters on our team, Medusa. She lost the world record last year to a girl in Colorado who scored fifty points.”
“Fifty points in two minutes?” Jason asked.
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen anyone actually do it in person,” I said.
“There’s an actual world record?” Ben asked. “Is this sport really that popular?”
“There are about two thousand teams around the world,” Monica answered.
“Wow,” he said.
“Grace, what position do you play?” Sylvia asked.
“Usually, I’m a jammer.”
“A very good one,” Monica added.
My cheeks felt warm.
“So you play as well?” he asked.
“Yeah!” Ariana said. “Her name is Dr. Hooker!”
Monica laughed and nodded her head.
“Do you get paid to play this?” Ben asked both of us.
“No. This league is actually a nonprofit. It relies on donations and volunteers,” I said.
Monica looked back at him and smiled. “We actually have to pa
y dues to the league every month to play.”
“No kidding?” he asked.
We both shook our heads.
“We have corporate sponsors, but that only covers stuff like our practice space, jerseys, insurance…”
He cringed. “I’ll bet insurance for this sport is a nightmare.”
“I have no idea,” I said.
Sylvia sat forward in her chair. “Look at her go,” she said, watching Hellissa collect more points. “And her family was part of Hope Haven?”
I lowered my voice. “I don’t think that’s supposed to be public knowledge necessarily, but yes. That’s what I’ve been told. I heard her father is going to be in prison for a very long time.”
Sylvia just nodded and watched the bout.
Halfway through the period, Jason reached over and squeezed my knee. “I’ve got to head to work. This has been a lot of fun though. I can’t wait to see you play.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You have seen me play. You almost got me killed, or don’t you remember?”
He chuckled. “That’s right.”
“I scrimmage again right here tomorrow night if you think you can refrain from distracting me.”
“I’ll be here.” He smiled and kissed me. “I’ll do my best to save all the distracting for this weekend.”
“Mmm…” I kissed him again. “I wish you didn’t have to go now.”
He sighed. “Me too, but criminals won’t catch themselves. I’ll see you tomorrow though.”
“OK. Be safe.”
“Always.” He stood up in front of the bleachers. “It was good to see everyone. I have to report to duty now.”
Sylvia reached for him. “I don’t suppose you could help me, Officer?”
“Help you with what, ma’am?” he asked, stepping toward her.
She motioned him closer, and then she lowered her voice. “I have some parking tickets…”
“Mother, leave the man alone. He’s not going to fix your parking tickets,” Ben said.
Jason laughed. “Goodbye, Mrs. Sinclair.” Then he waved to Monica and the girls. “It was good to see you again. And very nice to meet you, girls.”
“Bye,” Maisie said.
Ariana waived. “Bye, New Clay.”
Monica clapped her hand over Ariana’s mouth. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” Then she turned to her daughter and spoke in a hushed but stern voice.