I sailed over the first curve and landed on my toe stops, and then sprang back up into the air again, passing over the obstacle entirely instead of skating through it. That maneuver would shave seconds off my time. Darcy’s startled face appeared in my field of vision as I flew through the air just inches away. Then I touched down again, bringing my body into a crouch to preserve forward momentum.
Well, that had been surprisingly easy. I’d tried a few aerials over the past couple of days, but not two in a row. The best thing about them is that they relied more on momentum than on strength, so my technique could make up for the fact that my muscles were taxed to the limit.
Behind me, I could hear the scrape and hiss of Darcy’s skates moving at an even more frantic pace to try to catch up, but I blocked out the sound as much as possible. I focused on the next few obstacles instead, jumping over a hairpin turn, tucking my knees to my chest, and landing in a neat crouch on the other side. I kept going, my chest heaving with exertion. I skipped over or otherwise avoided as many of the obstacles as I could. I heard a smattering of applause as I passed the other applicants, but I didn’t dare risk a look. Darcy was close on my heels as we skated toward the final obstacle: the narrowest of the corridors, banked all the way up against the wall.
It was dotted with random cones to make it even more difficult to get through, which made jumping a poor proposition. If I came down on one, I could twist an ankle, or do something even worse. I pushed forward desperately, feeling Darcy at my heels, knowing that all I needed to do was get into that corridor first and there would be no way she could pass me unless I fell.
Just as I reached the obstacle, she shot past me wrapped in a tight crouch, low on her skates. Her elbow whacked the back of my legs, shoving me toward a cone. My skate caught on the edge of the orange plastic and whirled me around. I windmilled my arms in a vain effort to maintain my balance.
Darcy didn’t even look back; she just kept on skating as I went spinning out of control. I had a moment to feel grateful that I was wearing a helmet, and then I hit the wall with my face.
My nose wouldn’t stop gushing. On the outside I was all, “It’s just a bloody nose. Chill. It’s not like my face fell off.” But inside, I kept thinking this was the end; I was bleeding more than a healthy person should; the leukemia was back, and this time there would be no miraculous recovery. More than anything, I hated constantly second-guessing my body. Sometimes it felt like every cough was a death sentence. I knew that was stupid, but I couldn’t help it.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Darcy said for the sixteenth time, patting my arm in an apparent effort to reassure herself it was still operational. I just wanted everyone to stop fussing and let me get up off the floor.
“Really, I’m fine.” I pushed her hands away and checked the towel clasped to my face. “See? I think it’s slowing.”
“Let her up already,” Ruthanasia demanded in a tone that made it clear to everyone she was losing patience with the whole situation. “We still have a lot more to do tonight.”
Her attitude ticked me off on the one hand, but on the other hand, I was thankful not to be coddled. The irony of this didn’t escape me.
“I didn’t realize you fell.” Darcy pulled me to my feet. “Really, I didn’t.”
“I know. It’s okay, honest. It was just an accident.”
Darcy took one arm and Barbageddon the other. It was embarrassing enough to have face-planted into the wall, but once Darcy shouted to the whole freaking room that I was a cancer patient in remission, they started treating me like I might fall apart at any moment. Literally. Like a leper.
I tried to skate away, and they tried to lead me toward the benches. None of us was successful.
“Let go,” I said, my voice muffled from my already-swollen nasal area. “I’m really fine.”
Barbageddon wouldn’t let go. “You should sit—”
“I’m finishing the course.” I set down the towel and probed tentatively at my face. No blood. About freaking time.
She still wasn’t giving up, and I knew she just wanted to help, but it was hard not to growl. Couldn’t she understand that I had to do this to prove to everyone that I could? Especially myself.
“But you need to—”
“Leave her alone,” Michael ordered from his seat by the exit. It was the first time he’d spoken in front of the group, and some of the girls visibly swooned as his baritone washed over them. It tugged at the back of my neck, sending prickles up my spine. I wanted to look at him and maybe drool a little. But now that I knew to expect it, the urge was easier to resist. Not easy, but easier.
“Are you sure?” Barbageddon asked, her grip loosening but not releasing entirely.
“She’s fine,” he replied firmly. “Let Casey finish the course at her own pace.”
I flashed him a grateful smile and tried to pretend everyone wasn’t staring at me as I cautiously slalomed through the cone-filled track and across the finish line at a slow coast, but of course they were. Ruthanasia watched with distaste, Barbageddon with concern, and Darcy with hangdog guilt. Michael watched me too, but his eyes gave no hint of his feelings.
At least they weren’t flaming.
The rest of the applicants made it through the obstacle course without beating each other into pulp. My nose and upper lip had started to swell, so I got to apply an ice pack on a bench right near the rink. I had a stellar view of the back of Ruthanasia’s head as well as Michael’s butt. Now that I’d gotten a handle on the whole panic-for-no-reason thing, I felt free to admire it as it should have been admired. The butt, not the head.
My rear-related reverie was cut short when Darcy said, “Would you like some nachos? I’ll get you some; just wait right here.”
“No, thank you,” I said, but she was already gone. Normal people don’t gorge on carbs in the middle of a tryout, but she’d always been a nervous eater. The day we’d tested for senior green belt, she’d polished off half a box of Twinkies in about five minutes flat. I didn’t share the habit, but I couldn’t think of a graceful way to tell her that. The worst part about it was that I didn’t really like nachos. The chips were fine, but the cheese looked too much like nuclear waste for my comfort. And now I’d have to eat them just so Darcy would quit guilting out.
Thrillsville.
“You might as well go home,” Ruthanasia said, rolling toward me. “Did you drive?”
“I don’t have a car.”
She sighed like my lack of transportation was a personal affront. “Of course you don’t. Fine, then. I’ll get one of the girls to take you home. Hey!” she called, waving her hand. “Ragnarocker!”
“Darcy can take me home.” I put down the ice and rose halfway from my seat. “But I didn’t think we were done.”
“Oh, we’re not. But I figured you wouldn’t want to stay.” Ruthanasia’s syrupy purr reminded me of every bad actionmovie villain rolled into one. “You’re injured, and you’re just getting over this massive illness, right? I’m sure your doctor wouldn’t approve.”
“Actually, I’ve been cleared to play,” I replied. I’d said it so often, I was beginning to believe it myself, but she wasn’t even listening.
Ragnarocker detached from the gaggle of derby girls clustered by the snack bar and sauntered over, popping her bubble gum. She was one of the few members of the team still in street clothes, but the width of her shoulders and the cocky tilt to her smile suggested she’d be pretty formidable on skates. Hitting her would be kind of like running into a wall. As of about a half hour ago, I was an expert on that topic.
“ ’Sup, boss-girl?” she said to Ruthanasia.
“Can you take Casey home?”
“Yup.” Ragnarocker turned and held up her fist for me to bump. “Nice spill.”
“I don’t want to go home, thanks.” I bumped knuckles with her, though, because she seemed like the kind of person I should be nice to.
Ruthanasia was a different story. She’d been rude from the mome
nt we’d walked through the door. And yeah, maybe I’d come here with something to prove, and maybe that made me a little oversensitive, but that didn’t make her behavior acceptable. Under different circumstances it probably wouldn’t have been a big deal, but between the lava-guy flashback and the brick facial, I’d had enough. I wasn’t about to deal with a complete wench on top of it.
“What’s your problem, RJ?” I asked.
“Ruthanasia,” she corrected, looking down her nose at me.
“Whatever. You’ve been a total wench since we got here. What exactly did I do to piss you off?”
Ragnarocker backed away, holding her hands up in a gesture that clearly said she wanted no part of this conversation. But Darcy picked that moment to return with a giant plate of nuclear-orange nachos, and she nearly dropped them when she overheard me. “Casey?” she asked uncertainly.
Now we were the center of attention. The last two girls made their painstaking way around the obstacle course, but no one was watching. Even Michael had dropped his clipboard and was staring at us.
“Well?” I demanded.
“Look, I’m sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities,” Ruthanasia hissed, “but I’ve got a responsibility to my team. We’re not one of those sissy leagues. Girls get into scraps here and people get hurt. You’re damaged goods, and that really sucks, but I’m not going to be the one to go to your house and tell your mommy and daddy that I broke you.” She looked me up and down, shaking her head. “You don’t belong here.”
“You can’t make me leave,” I said flatly. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to punch her in the face.
Ruthanasia opened her mouth to say something, but then she looked around the room at our audience. She closed her mouth, moved closer.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said quietly. “But when you get beaten down, don’t come crying to me. I told you so. Excuse me for trying to help.”
And then she stalked off. How she managed to do this while wearing skates on carpeting was a mystery. I wanted her to fall so bad, but it didn’t happen.
“Wow,” Darcy said. “I mean, really, wow. What was that all about?”
I shook my head, snagging a cheese-free chip and biting it ferociously.
“You totally told her off! But of course they’re going to let you on the team anyway, what with those jumps and stuff, right? How did you do that? I mean, it was totally made of awesomeness, but I’m surprised you didn’t fall on your head.”
“I’ve been practicing. No big deal.”
“Well, next time, invite me along. You made me look bad.” She actually had the nerve to look sulky.
“You could have practiced too,” I snapped. “That’s not my fault.”
She winced and ducked her head. “Sorry,” she mumbled, and I immediately felt like I’d claimed the Complete Wench crown for myself.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m pissed at Ruthanasia; I don’t mean to take it out on you.”
“It’s okay, really. Especially after I shoved you into the wall.” She moaned. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s really no biggie.” I thumbed the end of my nose and tried not to wince. I’d probably have a pair of black eyes tomorrow. But on the bright side, maybe people would think I’d been in a fight. Maybe they’d stop treating me like I might shatter if they breathed on me too hard. “See? It’s not broken.”
I sat down next to her and took another nacho. But only one, because I didn’t want to throw up. She started mowing through the plate as if it were her last meal on earth. I would have worried, but after the Twinkie incident, I knew she had an iron stomach.
We did booty blocking next, and I seethed the whole time. It wasn’t my strongest suit, since I didn’t have much to block with. But I kept imagining that Ruthanasia was trying to get around me, so when I did manage to get a hit in, it was a good one. Then we did some plow stops and single and double knee slides. I was usually pretty good at those, but by this time I was so tired that I couldn’t bounce back up to my toe stops like I wanted to. After this was over, I was going back to bed and wasn’t going to come out for a week. Fatigue didn’t stop me from wanting a place on the team, though. I kept reminding myself that it would get easier. It was just a matter of time.
Once we were done, Ruthanasia climbed on top of a table, minus her skates, and shouted, “Okay, everybody. We’ve tallied all the scores, and we’d like to call back the top five to compete for our two open spots: Tanya Li, Shelby Shusterman, Monique Larribee, Sarah Smith, and Darcy Klinger.”
Darcy let out a little squeal of excitement, but it faded when she saw how pissed I was. Ruthanasia very pointedly didn’t look at me, but the satisfied smirk on her face was enough.
I hadn’t even made it to callbacks.
I’d handled a lot. When Dr. Rutherford had told us that I had cancer, my parents had cried, and I’d stayed strong for them. I’d dealt with the bone-deep pain of biopsies without complaint. I’d lost all my hair. I’d puked until my mouth had grown sores. All of those things had been bearable, but this? It felt like I’d been kicked while I was still down.
“Congratulations, Darcy,” I said, holding my head high with effort. “I’m really happy for you.”
Ruthanasia interrupted before Darcy could answer. “Sorry, Kent. But you can’t say I didn’t tell you so.” I couldn’t decide what bothered me more—the fact that she referred to me by my last name like I was her servant or the fact that she was looking at me like I’d rolled in poop.
“Actually …” Michael cleared his throat, walking up behind her. “I was just going to say that I’d like to call Casey back too.”
She gaped at him. And honestly, so did I. He must have seen something he liked in my performance, because the alternative was completely unbearable. If he called me back just because he felt sorry for me, I’d die of embarrassment.
“Um, yay?” Darcy said tentatively.
“We can’t do that,” Ruthanasia declared, folding her arms. “We said we’d bring back the top five. She didn’t make it.”
“So what?” he responded in a flippant tone. “It’s not going to hurt anything to see her again. If she doesn’t make it, that’s fine. But I think she’s worth a second look.”
Ruthanasia glared at him, but she couldn’t keep it up for long. “Right,” she said reluctantly. “Come back tomorrow night at seven, Casey.”
Then she turned her back on us.
“Thanks, everyone, for coming,” Barbageddon said, rolling up on her skates and blanketing us all with a smile. “We’re sorry we can’t use you all right now; we’re only filling the spots that were vacated due to a really horrible car accident. But we’d love to see you all again at next year’s tryouts, and the league will have plenty of space on the roster then. Keep practicing and it’ll happen! Have a good night!”
I sat back down and slowly unlaced my skates, trying to figure out how I was going to remove them without taking off my toes at the same time. My socks had dried, and it felt like they were fused to my feet.
“Well,” Darcy said. “We both made it to the next round. That’s great, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” I replied shortly. I couldn’t decide how to feel, other than tired.
“I shouldn’t have gotten the large nachos. Eat some of these, please? Or I’m going to turn into a big fat pig.”
I took another chip to be polite, searching out the least-toxic-looking one on the plate. No way was I eating any more of these things after this one. “Maybe I’ll see if they have a takeout box.”
“Good idea.”
There was a line at the snack bar. I got into place behind the girl in the pleather corset, who was so busy complaining about not getting called back that the guy behind the counter couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I waited with uncharacteristic patience at first, but after a while the delay started to get to me. Pleather Girl wouldn’t stop whining, and the counter guy kept coming back with a series of never-ending questions about the contents of
her iced coffee. It was enough to make a Buddhist monk climb a clock tower with an automatic weapon. I cleared my throat loudly, and then someone else did it too, right behind my ear.
“God, this is annoying,” I said.
“I guess,” Michael replied, his deep voice sending a wave of goose bumps over my arms. “Waiting’s not that bad.”
“Come on,” I said. “You’re as impatient as I am. Admit it. You can’t stop clearing your throat.”
“I was trying to get your attention.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Pleather Girl finally claimed her coffee and rolled out of the way, eyeing Michael with aggressive speculation. It was almost disgusting.
“Get a grip,” I said, shaking my head at her. “You’re practically panting.”
“What?” asked the girl, thrusting out her chin and planting a fist on her hip.
“Nothing,” Michael interjected before I could answer. “Casey, would you order already?”
I looked around in confusion before I finally remembered why I’d gotten in line in the first place.
“I just need a to-go box,” I said. “Please.”
The guy set the box on the counter, but Michael snagged it. “Let me give you a hand.”
“I’m not an invalid, thanks,” I snapped.
“I’m not treating you like an invalid,” he said mildly. “I’m treating you like a lady.”
I couldn’t help it; I snorted. “I’m even less of a lady than I am an invalid.”
“Fair enough.” He grinned, offering me the box. I didn’t take it, though. I was too busy staring at him with my mouth hanging open. That grin had taken his face from plastic perfection to new levels of amazing. When I realized what I was doing, I snatched the box and tried to look like I hadn’t just been gaping. My ears turned red; I felt them burning.
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