Knee Pads

09 | lap of dishonor

CHAPTER NINE | LAP OF DISHONOR

the route an expelled skater takes when heading for the locker room.

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          "So, are you excited?" Marley asked me, gently bumping her shoulder against mine. I struggled with the urge to remind her that things hadn't really worked out for the better the last time she did that. At the same time, that little stunt had landed me a spot on the roller derby team, so . . . "If I were you, I'd be jumping up and down with excitement. When I first got into the team, I called my entire family."

          "Marley's family is huge," one of the girls, Amy, explained, as though I needed more clarification. The thing I liked about Marley was that she didn't try to make me look dumb or stupid just because I was new; she kept me on a need to know basis, never overwhelming me with information or being so secretive she kept me wanting more. "Like, she has so many cousins it's—"

          "I think she gets it, Amy," Marley chimed in. Her knee pressed against mine under the table for the fleetest of moments. "Wren?"

          "I get it," I stupidly replied. The girls laughed warmly and not necessarily out of malice.

          It was easy to distinguish two moments in this group. Whenever Corinne was around, the general attitude shifted towards a pettier pole and everyone's competitiveness climbed up several notches. Whenever she wasn't, though, things actually felt like a legit team to me, without anyone trying to drag the others down.

          I mentally groaned. 

          Even when she wasn't nearby, she was still the only thing in my mind. Quite frankly, it was getting frustrating and distracting; should I really be worrying so much about her and what she thought? She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, much like I was, and I needed to give us some credit.

          Was I nervous about the first team practice? Absolutely. I was excited about it too, obviously, because how could someone not be excited about potentially breaking a bone or two, not necessarily their own? Like the kids would say, so valid, bestie. However, I was not a kid and had bigger concerns to deal with.

          My parents kindly let me know they had asked Jordan's treatment team to tell him I was skating again, probably for the first time in a long time, and that I had joined the Yale roller derby team. That was fine, if you looked past all my crippling fears of him thinking I was betraying him again, as I still hadn't forgotten the look on his face that day our parents sat us down to reveal we were moving to Connecticut whether we wanted to or not.

          I knew that look all too well. I knew the feeling even better, the way it twisted your insides and suffocated you from the inside. It came bubbling back up whenever I thought about Theo, wherever she was, whatever she was doing on the other side of the country. Jordan and I had always been more alike than either of us wanted to admit.

          Even worse than that: I'd have to be confronted really, really soon.

          Coach Fontaine had scheduled the first practice of the year for the same week as the family therapy session. Regardless of the order of the two events, I'd be distracted during both of them anyway, so it wasn't like I could easily feel any better about it. Practice came first, which meant I would have to spend the entirety of those forty-five minutes at the clinic praying he didn't hate me nearly as much as I thought he did.

          It was strange keeping these two parts of my life completely separate.

          Back in California, Theo knew all about my figure skating drama and Jordan's situation, probably a lot more than she should, and I hadn't really hesitated to talk to her the day he threw that bottle at me. Though it had had disastrous consequences for everyone involved, it was still nice to have someone in my life who knew everything, someone I could be myself around.