The Ultra Fabulous Glitter Squadron Saves the World Again

by A. C. Wise

  Debra has come to the RollerRama just about every weekend for the past three months, watching the grace some lucky boys and girls have found in their bodies. She never joins their formations on the polished floorboards. Debra is a good skater but she’s afraid. She doesn’t trust her body, doesn’t trust that if the girls and boys she watches so avidly ever catch sight of her they won’t make her the end of the whip-crack line.

  She makes herself small, gliding on the periphery, trying not to be seen. On the periphery, she doesn’t see Dean, Vic, and Eddie, watching. But Starlight watches for her. She sees Dean pull a wad of gum from his mouth as Debra prepares to skate past, ready to drop it into her frizzy hair.

  Starlight is quicker, cutting in front of Debra without cutting her off, making it look like an accident until she reaches Dean and grabs his wrist.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she says, twisting Dean’s wrist hard.

  He drops the wad of gum.

  Dean’s mouth opens, and Starlight flashes him her sweetest smile. She gives him an almost-curtsey, retrieving the dropped gum in a napkin before anyone can skate over it, getting it tangled in their wheels. Dean is still sputtering as Starlight glides away.

  As she passes the trash can, dropping the gum-filled napkin, Starlight notices someone else watching tonight, too.

  The woman stands at the back of the bleachers surrounding the RollerRama’s ring. Her hair is copper, teased high and smoothed into a bouffant dome. Her dress matches her hair, the color of a new penny, short and tight over chunky high-heel boots of soft, dark green leather reaching well past her knees. Her jacket matches her boots.

  Arms crossed, she watches Dean, Eddie, and Vic intently. Starlight slows. She’s never seen the woman here before, never seen her at all around town. Feeling herself watched, the woman turns toward Starlight. The edge of her mouth creeps up in something that can’t quite be called a smile.

  Starlight blushes, spinning away. Luckily, the light pops up on the other side of the ring indicating an order ready to be collected. She loads her tray with milkshakes cold enough to frost their glasses. Then Starlight glides across the rink, her tray perfectly balanced.

  She isn’t expecting it when Dean swoops in. He criss-crosses his skates, making them hum as he whirs past. His hand flicks out so fast he’s already gone before the tray clatters to the ground, shattering glass and splattering chocolate and strawberry.

  “Watch where you’re going, faggot!”

  Hyena-laughter trails behind Vic and Eddie, following in their leader’s wake. The three of them glide past her, and Starlight promises herself she won’t cry, even though her eyes sting as she wipes at the mess soaking her uniform. She blinks false eyelashes hard and fast until the tears retreat. She won’t give them the satisfaction. Instead, she pastes on a smile, bigger and brighter than before as she gathers the tray and broken glass.

  “Hey.” Tony, the RollerRama’s owner, comes down from the observation booth above the rink and touches Starlight’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do that. We’ll get someone else to clean it up.”

  Starlight straightens; she has to fight tears all over again at the look on Tony’s face.

  “You say the word, and those guys are banned for life.” Tony has a smile that peeks out of one side of his mouth.

  “It’s fine,” Starlight says, smoothing her skirt. She notices one of her perfect, shell-pink nails is broken.

  “You can take off early,” Tony offers.

  “No. I want to finish my shift.” Starlight squares her shoulders.

  “Okay then. But don’t worry about this.” Tony gestures at the glass, then snaps his fingers. “Hey, Courtney. Grab a mop and broom, will ya? I’m gonna clean this up.”

  Starlight is almost shaking with gratitude, hoping it doesn’t show as she glides across the rink. She doesn’t dare look back, afraid the basset-hound sadness of Tony’s eyes will break her. Maybe she never had a daddy growing up, but she found one here at the RollerRama, and it hurts every time she sees him worrying about her.

  SHIFT OVER, STARLIGHT WALKS TO HER CAR WITH HER SKATES SLUNG over her shoulder. She’s still wearing her uniform, even though it smells like strawberry and chocolate and sugary whipped cream. Her feet hurt. She’s tired, and she just wants to go home. One of her wheels isn’t quite right. Something slipped out of alignment during the incident, and she finished out her shift with a wobble.

  Moths circle parking lot lights shining the color of faded bruises. Her car—a beat-up Volkswagen Rabbit, just as rusty as her mama’s Chevy ever was—is one of the last left. Except for a forest-green Mustang just outside the glow of the lights. The hairs on the back of Starlight’s neck prickle. Dean, Vic, and Eddie are still here, waiting.

  “What’d we tell you about watching yourself, faggot?” Vic pushes away from the car, a scrap of darkness separating from a larger clot of shadow. “We don’t want your kind ’round here.”

  Dean says nothing, smacking fist against palm, grinning. Their eyes are bright, shining in a way Starlight associates with fevers.

  She is tired. So very tired.

  It’s not just the milkshakes. It’s whip-crack, and Cindy Williams’ birthday party, and being told she didn’t belong in either the girl’s bathroom or the boy’s bathroom, her mama’s thin cheeks and ugly cough. It’s everything weighing on her shoulders since she was seven years old.

  Starlight doesn’t think. She slings the roller skates from her shoulder, holding their knotted string and whipping them around so fast they blur. They catch Vic in the jaw.

  Eddie and Dean stare at her. Starlight’s keys are in her hand, threaded between her fingers. She lashes out like they’re claws. Dean screams; he trips, turning, before rising to scramble away. Then only Eddie is left standing.

  Starlight drops her voice to a growl. “Show me what you got, motherfucker.” She’s never spoken such foul words before. Her mama raised her right, but Starlight is angry, smelling of spilled milkshakes, her chest heaving with all the hurt ever done to her.

  Eddie must see the shape of Starlight’s pain, even if he doesn’t understand why Starlight is hurt. The pain is jagged, the edges turned outward, ready to draw blood. Eddie is an idiot, but he is wise enough to run. Starlight watches him flee the parking lot, and slowly lowers her hand, keys jangling as she does.

  “Nice work.”

  Starlight whirls, ready to attack again. It’s the woman from the RollerRama, the one who’d watched her earlier. The sodium-bruise lights shine off her dress. Shame floods through Starlight. She looks at Vic, still rolling on the ground, clutching his jaw.

  Shock sets in; she trembles. Starlight will never be able to look Mama in the eye again after what she’s done. Her knees threaten to buckle, everything tilting sideways.

  “Hey, relax, kid.” A corner of the woman’s mouth lifts, but her eyes—the same copper-gold as her dress and her hair, too beautiful to be real—remain hard. “I’m here to offer you a job.”

  “I’M STILL NOT SURE I UNDERSTAND.” STARLIGHT TWISTS THE HEM OF her skirt, keeping her gaze locked on her hands.

  She’s never felt this shabby in her uniform before; she can’t stop noticing how her shell-pink polish is chipped, how one broken nail is ragged. It takes all of her will to keep from biting it.

  She risks a glance upward, and just as quickly looks back down again. It’s impossible not to be intimidated by the woman who introduced herself as Bunny, even though she’s nothing but patient smiles and encouragement. The copper woman—Penny—isn’t helping either, with her arms crossed and her jaw set. Starlight can’t help feeling Penny is judging her every word and motion.

  “Penny, get this girl something stronger to drink, will you?” Bunny turns her attention to Penny, who frowns.

  “I’m not…” Starlight starts to say of age, but Bunny’s hand covers hers, stilling Starlight’s nervous fingers.

  Starlight looks up, and Bunny smiles. It’s a gentle thing, coupled with a look that s
peaks volumes. Buried deep within Bunny’s violet eyes is a hint of fear. Once upon a time Bunny was scared, too, but she learned how to be strong. Starlight’s mouth drops open, and she closes it against as quickly as she can.

  She releases the hem of her stained uniform. Penny returns, and Starlight takes the sugar-rimmed glass pressed into her hand.

  “I had Sapphire check into the kids from the parking lot.” Penny addresses Bunny, but Starlight’s stomach does a little flip, knowing the words are for her. “No real damage done, just bruises and scratches. No broken bones and everyone still has both eyes.”

  Penny turns her attention to Starlight, showing hard eyes, a wry smile, and something Starlight thinks might even be admiration.

  “They’re not pressing charges,” Penny says. “I think they’re embarrassed at being beaten up…by a girl.”

  She turns, leaving them alone. Relief washes through Starlight, but it’s only a veneer over the jangle of nerves. Her body buzzes, still wired on adrenaline. Should she send flowers to Vic and Dean by way of apologizing? Or would they think she was making fun? Maybe something for Dean’s car? She has no idea what kind of thing boys like Dean and Vic and Eddie enjoy, other than tormenting people. But after what she’s done, is she any better? She sips too fast and nearly chokes at the sting of alcohol.

  “Esmeralda makes a mean Lime Rickey,” Bunny says, tactfully ignoring Starlight’s sputtering cough. “We always keep a pitcher on hand in case of celebration. Which brings us back to the matter at hand. Do you want to help us save the world?”

  “SO IT’S LIKE THE ARMY?” STARLIGHT’S MAMA TAPS ASH FROM HER cigarette, her other hand picking at a loose thread on the arm of the chair.

  “Not exactly, Mama. It’s more like the Justice League. Or the X-Men.” Starlight looks away; trying to explain Bunny’s offer aloud, the whole thing sounds preposterous.

  The night up until now seems far away and getting farther. The sky is already edging back toward light. It was past two a.m. when she got in, but there was Mama, tucked into her housecoat and slippers, her book open on her lap and her head listing into the light spilling over her favorite chair. Starlight hopes her mother can’t smell the Lime Rickey on her breath.

  “What about college?” Mama asks. “I know we…talked about putting it off for a while, but you still want to go someday, don’t you?”

  Starlight flinches. Even though Mama is doing her best, she can’t quite hide her shame. There’s no money for college; they both know it but they both pretend.

  “Sure, Mama.”

  Starlight digs her nails into her palm, wincing as her mother reaches for the pack of cigarettes and lights one. Part of her thinks she has no business playing hero. She should focus on work, saving whatever money she can, and maybe taking a class or two at the education center.

  But the other part, the stronger part, knows this is the right decision. Her grades aren’t good enough for a scholarship, and she doesn’t want to work at the RollerRama for the rest of her life, as much as she loves Tony.

  Bunny was coy about finances, vaguely mentioning an aunt—Sapphire’s—who made her fortune with a line of women’s sportswear, and hinting that for clients who can afford to pay, saving the world is a mercenary affair. Whatever the case, joining the Glitter Squadron means room and board, and regular pay. Starlight can still save up, still help her mama out with the bills. She tells herself this over and over to quell the guilt.

  Besides, she’s always wanted to travel, and this way she can help people, too. She can keep her mama safe.

  “Is it dangerous?” Mama coughs, reaching for the cigarette balanced on the edge of the ashtray.

  Starlight covers her mama’s hand, and Mama draws back, letting the cigarette burn.

  “No. Yes. But the other women will take care of me, Mama. They’ll teach me. I’ll be safe.”

  Starlight tries to make her expression convincing, but from the way her mama is searching her face, the worried look in her worn-out eyes, Starlight knows she’s failing.

  “I’m doing this for you, Mama,” she says softly. “To protect you. If anything bad happened…” Starlight bites her lip, tasting pink lemonade lip gloss.

  Her mama doesn’t say anything, and after a moment, Starlight digs in her purse.

  “Um…Bunny gave me her card. I told her you’d be worried, and she said that if you ever have any questions, you can call her any time of the day or night. She’ll take good care of me, Mama. I promise.”

  Mama looks at the silver lettering on the shimmery pale purple background, and raises an eyebrow. “The Ultra Fabulous Glitter Squadron?”

  Starlight’s cheeks warm. “That’s what they call themselves. We. Call ourselves.”

  Starlight peeks at her mama from beneath her eyelashes. Mama tucks the card into the pocket of her worn robe and lights a cigarette to replace the one that’s burned out. Starlight ignores the coughing, just like she ignores the veins in Mama’s hands and the circles under her eyes.

  Doubt lingers in Mama’s expression, but underneath it, there’s something else. Is it possible that a tiny part of her is relieved that there’ll be one less mouth to feed, with all the attendant guilt of her own for thinking it? Starlight’s heart turns over, aching so hard, but there are no words.

  “One condition.” Mama points with the fingers holding her cigarette, smoke trailing a line of emphasis. “You’re home every Sunday night for dinner at six .p.m. sharp, so I know you’re safe. You’re one minute late, and I’ll be having more than words with this Bunny person myself.”

  “I promise, Mama.” Starlight manages a grin, but her stomach flutters; she hopes she’s made the right decision. She hopes she’ll make her mama proud.

  “HERE?” STARLIGHT’S VOICE BREAKS. SHE HATES THE WAY IT SOUNDS, but if Bunny notices, she does a good job of pretending otherwise.

  “That’s what our intelligence indicates.”

  “Real aliens? Like from outer space? Why would aliens land here? I mean there’s nothing…”

  “Natural resources,” Penny says from the doorway. “Oil. Minerals. Who knows what aliens want. But whatever it is, it seems pretty clear these ones have no intention of asking politely. They destroyed several large asteroids and a small moon on their way here. Nothing vital, but still.”

  Starlight twists in her chair. There’s another woman standing behind Penny, dressed all in green, with long, dark hair.

  “If we had more time, we’d train you properly, but I’m afraid that isn’t an option. So if you want to sit this one out…”

  Starlight turns back to Bunny, who lets her words hang. Starlight thinks of her mama, and lifts her chin.

  “I’m in,” she says.

  “You can do this,” Bunny says. “We wouldn’t have picked you otherwise.”

  Starlight stands, wiping damp palms on her skirt. If she doesn’t leave the room now, she’s afraid she’ll do something stupid like burst into tears and then her make-up will run.

  “Oh, and honey?” Bunny looks like she’s fighting a smile. “Now that you’re an official member of the Glitter Squadron, you’re going to need something far more fabulous to wear.”

  Starlight freezes, fresh panic blooming. How can she tell Bunny she doesn’t have money for new clothes?

  “Esmeralda will help you. She’s a whiz with a sewing machine. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

  The woman in green reaches for Starlight, and. as they walk down the hall, Esmeralda squeezes Starlight’s fingers. “I was nervous as hell my first day, too.”

  WHEN ESMERALDA THROWS OPEN THE DOUBLE DOORS OF THE ULTRA Fabulous Glitter Squadron’s official wardrobe, Starlight can’t help a gasp. It’s not just a closet; it’s an entire room, ready-made dresses hanging on one side, bolts of fabric lined up on the other. The back wall is dominated by a three-way mirror, and on either side of it racks and racks of boots and shoes.

  “It’s bigger than my bedroom,” Starlight says.

  “See an
ything you like?” When Starlight hesitates, Esmeralda nudges her gently. “Go on.”

  Starlight takes a hesitant step forward, then another. She’s always been a roller girl, but she never imagined clothes like these. They’re like something the first Starlight, the princess from the cartoon, would wear. She runs her fingers over velvet, silk, lamé, sequins. Then, oh. Starlight stops, stares, barely daring to touch the fabric. It’s her.

  Sequins like mirrored glass, as big around as nickels, cover a shimmery material the color of mist surrounding a rainbow. It’s so fine Starlight imagines that without the sequins, she could pull it through the eye of a needle. She lifts the bolt from the shelf, and holds it out to Esmeralda.

  “Could you make me something out of this?”

  Esmeralda smiles. “I think I can whip up something. Let’s get you measured.”

  “CLOSE YOUR EYES. KEEP THEM CLOSED. NO PEEKING.” ESMERALDA grasps Starlight’s hand and guides her to step into the dress.

  Starlight holds her breath as Esmeralda tugs the fabric up, and slips the straps over her shoulders, before zipping her in. Her cheeks warm at the thought of her bony hips, the worn state of her bought-in-packs-of-six underwear. But Esmeralda is a professional, hands sure, and the dress covers it all in no time.

  “Okay, open your eyes.”

  Starlight’s eyes open, and so does her mouth. The disco ball above her RollerRama stares back at her. The straps are spaghetti thin, studded in rhinestones; the bodice is heart-shaped, clinging smooth all the way down to a flattering waist. The skirt flares, giving Starlight the illusion of hips where she has none. But her legs, peeking out under the hem, are sleek and long, muscled from years of skating.

  “Do you like it?” Esmeralda asks, fussing, adjusting, her eyes glowing with pride.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Go ahead,” Esmeralda says. “Twirl.”