Hell's Belles

by Megan Sparks

  The house felt so empty. What it lacked in current décor, it made up for in size, and Annie felt completely abandoned in the large space. She was so lonely, in fact, that she found herself desperately wishing that her mum was there.

  Not that Philippa had ever been a cuddly, affectionate sort of mother, but at least she would be company.

  Annie brightened, realizing that maybe Mum could keep her company!

  She grabbed her crutches and headed to the kitchen, where she’d left her laptop. Seconds later, the machine was beeping musically, Skyping Annie’s mother in England.

  “Annie, love!”

  Mum’s voice preceded her video image by a half a second. When her face appeared, Annie could see that she was still in her office. There were takeout food containers cluttering her otherwise impeccably tidy desk. In London it was after eleven in the evening.

  “Hi, Mum. How are you?”

  “Busy. Big case, you know.”

  Annie resisted the urge to say, “What else is new?” “I’m sure you’ll win it,” she replied instead.

  Mum smiled. “How are you doing over there? School good? Making friends?”

  “Fine, it’s okay, and yes.” Annie laughed, but she felt a tiny prickle of anger that Mum didn’t ask about Dad. Even if it was just to be polite, she could have enquired.

  “I have to tell you something,” Annie began. “Better yet, I’ll show you. . .” Annie tilted the computer screen and gingerly lifted her booted foot. “Ta da! Lovely, isn’t it?” She motioned gracefully to the ugly boot, pretending to be modeling it. “It’s what all the trendy injured girls are wearing this season! Goes with everything. Except stairs. And roller skates.” She laughed, but even to her it sounded forced.

  On the screen, Mum’s face had gone pale. “You broke your leg?” she cried.

  “I sprained my ankle,” Annie corrected. “I did it at derby practice.”

  “When?”

  Annie hesitated. She knew her mother would be furious when Annie told her the fall had happened five days ago. Annie considered fibbing, but as a lawyer, her mother sniffed out liars for a living. There would be no putting one over on Philippa Bradley.

  “Five days ago,” she admitted.

  Mum’s eyes narrowed and she banged her fist on her desk. This caused her cardboard cup of tea to topple, spilling liquid all over the documents she had spread across the desktop. Great.

  Furious, Mum began mopping up the spill. “Why didn’t your father tell me immediately?” she demanded. “He should have called me the instant it happened.”

  “Why?” said Annie in a frosty voice. “Would you have hopped on the first flight out of Heathrow and flown over here to hold my hand?”

  Mum’s head snapped up from the sopping papers. When her eyes met Annie’s on the screen it occurred to Annie that they were looking at one another across thousands of miles — both literally and figuratively.

  Mum, to her credit, didn’t say, “Of course I would have,” because they both knew that would have been a lie. “I should have been told,” she said feebly. “I love you, Annie. Naturally I’d want to know if you’d been hurt.”

  “Dad told me to call you,” Annie confessed. “I just didn’t have the guts. I knew what you were going to say.”

  “Did you?” Mum gave up on the ruined paperwork and sat back in her desk chair, folding her arms across her chest. “Did you know that I would say I absolutely hate the thought of you taking part in such a dangerous sport?”

  “Gymnastics is dangerous,” Annie reminded her. “Girls get seriously hurt all the time.”

  “That’s different,” said Mum. “You were trained in gymnastics, so you knew how to protect yourself. And your coaches were among the best in the country. Who, may I ask, coaches this roller derby squad of yours? Some toothless ex-convict?”

  Annie gasped. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

  Mum looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Annie. I suppose I don’t know much about this derby sport, but the stereotypes I’m familiar with —”

  “Are stereotypes and nothing more!” Annie snapped. “My coach happens to be a wonderful woman. She’s athletic and smart, and she’s a registered nurse. In fact, she works night shifts so she can be at home with her kids.”

  Annie felt guilty the moment she said it, but remarkably, Philippa didn’t comment on the insult. “Be that as it may,” said Mum, “I think you should stop playing this game.”

  Annie felt as though someone had kicked her in the stomach. “What?”

  “It’s too risky. Do you realize how lucky you are that it was just a sprain?”

  Annie frowned at the screen, and Mum let out a long sigh. “I’m going to speak to your father about it,” she said. “I mean, really, allowing his daughter to play a contact sport . . . Where was he when you were being pummeled? Icing cupcakes?”

  Annie’s jaw tightened; it was all she could do to keep from clicking the “end call” button, which would have meant hanging up on her own mother.

  Instead, she smiled into the tiny camera. “As a matter of fact, he was. Icing cupcakes, brewing tea, and counting money! He’s very, very busy. Rosie Lee’s is a huge success!”

  Mum lifted an eyebrow skeptically. “Is that so?”

  “Yes! It’s the most popular place in town.”

  “The most popular place in Liberty Heights, Illinois?” Mum rolled her eyes and gave a condescending chuckle. “The point is, your father has no common sense, and the fact that he’s agreed to let you play roller derby is just further proof of it.”

  That was it. Annie couldn’t take any more. “Gotta go, Mum,” she said.

  “What?” Mum looked surprised. “Why?”

  “Well, you know us roller derby girls,” said Annie, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got a meeting with my parole officer.”

  Mum’s mouth dropped opened, but before she could say anything, Annie ended the call.

  It wasn’t until the screen was blank and she’d closed the computer that her tears began to fall. How could her mum be so unkind? So self-important and judgmental?

  As she limped back to the living room, Annie felt a stab of pain.

  But it wasn’t her ankle — it was the realization that any fantasies she’d been harboring about her parents getting back together had just been blown to bits.

  Annie visited Dr. Borden on Friday afternoon and was told that the swelling in her ankle had gone down enough that she could remove the boot. It was still too sore to walk on, though, so she’d be relying on the crutches a bit longer.

  “What about the Halloween bout?” she asked, her voice so hopeful it almost sounded desperate.

  Dr. Borden frowned. “Still can’t say for sure. It looks promising, but I don’t want to make a definite decision just yet. We’ll have another look at in a week.”

  Annie decided to take a glass-half-full approach and consider that good news. After all, he hadn’t said no.

  “By the way,” said Dr. Borden, as Annie’s dad handed her the crutches. “I told my kids about the bout. They can’t wait to go!”

  “That’s great!” said Annie. “I’ll save them some extra pieces of candy.”

  “Better not do that,” said the doctor, winking. “My wife’s a dentist!”

  In the hallway, Annie waved to the nurse, Martha. “Coming to the bout?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it!”

  “Sounds like this is shaping up to be a real event,” Dad observed as they exited the emergency room.

  “Yeah,” said Annie, struggling to remain optimistic. “I only hope I’ll get to be a part of it.”

  The next morning, Dad woke Annie early to help him bake more Halloween treats. As Lexie had predicted, many people in the neighborhood had begun placing orders for baked goodies to serve at their costume parties and post-trick-or-treating get-tog
ethers. Word of Dad’s talents had spread and business was beginning to pick up.

  Lexie had also come over to Rosie Lee’s and was using washable paints to decorate the shop windows with ghosts, goblins, and skeletons.

  Finally, Dad slid the last batch of cupcakes into the oven and took off his apron.

  “Those are the last two dozen,” he announced. “Mrs. Helmsford will be in to pick them up at noon. She wants them frosted to look like miniature mummy heads.” He gave Annie a sideways glance. “And speaking of mummies . . . I spoke to your mother last night.”

  Annie cringed. She’d been expecting this conversation.

  “She tells me you were snippy with her when you Skyped.”

  There was no point in denying it, so Annie just shrugged. “Guilty as charged,” she said with a sigh.

  “Look, Beanie. I know things are complicated between Mum and me, but she’s your mother. And that means you treat her with respect.”

  “Okay,” said Annie, nodding. Then she drew a deep breath. “Did she tell you she wants me to quit derby?”

  At the window, Lexie stopped painting and turned to Annie. “You didn’t tell me she said that!”

  “I was trying to pretend she hadn’t,” said Annie. “Well, Dad? Did she tell you I had to quit?”

  Dad, who was wiping chocolate batter off his hands, cleared his throat. “She may have mentioned something to that effect, yes.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “Well, I told her I felt the same way she did at first. Then I casually suggested that if you did quit derby, you might give cheerleading a try.”

  “What?!” said Lexie.

  Annie was shocked. “Dad! I would never.”

  Dad grinned. “Well, I know that. And you know that. But Mum doesn’t know that. Then I described to her the way the Liberty Heights High cheerleaders build those enormous human pyramids and then do backflips off of one another’s shoulders or get flung up into the air.”

  Annie laughed. “You didn’t!”

  “Sure I did. And I think she got the picture.” He raised his eyebrows and put on a Transylvanian accent. “Danger is lurking every-vare, no matter vut sport you choose!”

  Lexie laughed. “Good for you, Mr. Turner.”

  “That’s Count Dracula to you, missy!” Annie’s dad said.

  “Maybe I should design a costume for you, too.”

  But Dad shook his head. “Thanks anyway, Lexie, but I’ve already got one.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a shopping bag. “I picked these up yesterday.”

  “These?” Annie felt worried. “That’s plural.”

  “Yes, it is. And I’m glad to see you’re learning something in high school.”

  “Dad, what’s in the bag?”

  In reply, he pulled out an intensely hairy werewolf mask and slipped it over his head.

  “Oh, wow!” Lexie cracked up. “Aren’t there rules in the food-service industry? I think you’d better get a hairnet . . . fast!”

  “The sad part,” Annie said with a laugh, trying to smooth down the tangle of hair that stuck out all around the mask, “is that this isn’t really all that much worse than his normal hair!”

  “She’s got a point,” said Dad, his voice muffled inside the rubber head. “I do kind of like the fangs, though, don’t you?”

  “All the better to eat gingerbread skeletons with!” joked Annie.

  Then Dad pulled a second costume out of the bag. “I got this for you,” he said, handing her a black conical hat.

  “Dad, really?” Annie sighed, remembering his brilliant idea to dress her up as Queen Elizabeth II for the grand opening of Rosie Lee’s. “Again?”

  “This is entirely different. This time you’ll be a very funky witch. Our beloved queen is not a witch!”

  “She’s not particularly funky, either,” Lexie observed.

  Then Dad produced a stack of flyers he’d printed out.

  COME TO ROSIE LEE’S AND SIT FOR A “SPELL”YOU WON’T KNOW “WITCH” OF OUR TASTY TREATS YOU’LL WANT TO BE “GOBLIN” UP FIRST!

  “Do I really have to?” Annie grumbled, eyeing the costume. She had to admit it was a major improvement over the frumpy queen outfit — it was a little black velvet minidress with flowing lace sleeves. The hat, on closer inspection, was dotted all over with colorful little jewels and the tights were pink and green neon stripes. Still, she’d much rather hand out the ads dressed in jeans and a jacket.

  Dad, concealed behind the werewolf mask, began to whimper like a hurt puppy.

  “Aw, c’mon, Annie,” said Lexie, biting back a grin. “How can you say no to that?”

  “Fine,” huffed Annie. “I’ll do it.” She looked at the stack of flyers, and inspiration struck. “As long as you let me hand out the Liberty Belles flyers at the same time.”

  “I can live with that,” said Dad, lifting the mask and giving her a smile.

  Minutes later, Annie emerged from the little office behind the kitchen wearing the crazy tights, dress, and hat.

  “That’s actually pretty cute,” said Lexie.

  Annie checked her reflection in the glass of the pastry display case and was pleased to see that Lexie was telling the truth. But she still wasn’t thrilled about parading up and down Main Street in costume, no matter how well the dress showed off her legs. Her ankle was well enough that she could manage on one crutch and carry the flyers — Dad’s and hers — in her other hand.

  “Well, ‘witch’ me luck,” she said, heading for the door.

  For the next twenty minutes, she stood on the pavement outside Rosie Lee’s feeling like an absolute idiot. Two grade-school boys rode by on bikes and laughed at her.

  “Don’t you know Halloween isn’t for two more weeks?” scoffed one.

  “Oh, shut up or I’ll turn you both into toads!” muttered Annie.

  The boy stuck his tongue out and they rode off, laughing.

  Annie approached a sweet-looking elderly couple who were out for a walk. “Hello there!” she said, handing them a flyer. “You two look like you might enjoy a freshly baked cake and a cup of tea.”

  “Sounds delightful,” said the old woman.

  Annie opened the door for the couple and they ambled into the shop. She could hear them exclaiming over the delicious aromas as the door swung closed behind them.

  When she turned back to scan the foot traffic on the pavement, a familiar face caught her eye.

  “Coach Ritter!” she called, waving.

  The coach was holding the hands of two of the most adorable little kids Annie had ever seen.

  “Annie, how nice to see you.”

  “Mommy!” cried the older one, a girl, ducking behind her mother. “She’s a witch!”

  Coach laughed. “Don’t be silly, Abigail. It’s only a costume. There’s no such thing as witches.”

  “Your mum is right,” said Annie, giving Abigail a big smile. “I’m not a witch, but I am . . . a roller girl!”

  Abigail’s big green eyes lit up. “For real?”

  “This little guy is Brandon,” said Coach Ritter. “Abbey, Brandon, this is my friend Annie. Say hello.”

  “Hello.”

  “Hewwo.”

  Annie giggled. “They’re so cute!”

  “Thanks.” Coach smiled fondly at her two children and tousled their red hair. “They’re also quite a handful. We’ve been shopping all morning, and I’m exhausted.”

  “You know what you need, don’t you?” said Annie, grinning.

  “You mean besides a nanny?”

  “How does a nice hot cup of pumpkin spiced tea and a cinnamon apple muffin sound?”

  Coach smiled. “It sounds incredible.”

  “Then follow me!” Annie led her coach straight to the door of Rosie Lee’s.

  Inside, Co
ach helped the kids off with their jackets and hung them on coat pegs; she lingered there, her eyes flicking over the notices on the bulletin board while Brandon and Abbey ran straight for the pastry display.

  “Mommy, can I have a cookie?” cried Abbey.

  “Cupcake!” said Brandon.

  Unfortunately, Dad picked that moment to come out from behind the counter wearing his werewolf mask. Abbey let out a terrified yelp, then ran shrieking to hide behind her mother.

  “I’m sorry!” said Dad, quickly tugging off the scary rubber head. “Look, look, it’s only a mask, sweetie. I’m not a monster, I’m just a person!”

  Abbey peeked out from behind Coach Ritter, sniffling, but still didn’t make a move to come out from her hiding place. Brandon, on the other hand, went directly up to Annie’s dad and kicked him soundly in the shin. “You scawwed my sistuh!”

  Dad yelped, just like Abbey had.

  “Brandon!” cried Coach Ritter, clearly mortified. “That wasn’t nice.”

  “It’s all right,” said Dad, smiling as he rubbed his lower leg. “He was just protecting his big sister. I’m actually very impressed with his heroism.”

  “Me too,” said Lexie, offering Brandon a high five. “Way to go, little guy.”

  “Around here, we reward heroes with gingerbread skeletons,” said Annie, limping around to the back of the counter. She took two warm cookies off a baking sheet and brought them out.

  “For the brave hero and the damsel in distress,” she announced, sweeping an elegant bow to each of the children.

  “Thank you,” said Brandon, taking his cookie and chomping off the skeleton’s head. Abbey giggled, then took a bite of her cookie too.

  By now, the elderly couple Annie had coaxed into the shop had finished their refreshments and were making their way to the door.

  “Hope you enjoyed everything, folks,” said Dad, waving. “Please come again.”

  “Oh, you can count on it,” said the old man.

  “The cookies were delicious,” his wife added, patting little Brandon on his head as she passed, then pointing to Dad’s shin. “But we especially liked the exciting floor show.”

  When they were gone, Annie, Lexie, Dad, and Coach Ritter burst out laughing.