The Cheerleader's Guide to Roller Derby

Chapter Two: Tough Girls and Fake Fights

Author Note: A short chapter, but I'm posting two today. Also, for those of you who are aspiring writers: It's probably not a good idea to place backstory this early in a novel. When I edit this story, I'll try to figure out some other way to get this info in.

Roller Derby? Wasn't that something they used to do in the 1970's? You know, back when TVs only came in black and white? I had this feathery image of tough girls and fake fights, kind of like professional wrestling. How that could qualify as community service was something I still hadn't figured out. But if it involved roller skating, it was worth checking in to.

My brother and I were nine years old when our mom and dad separated. Dad used to pick us up every Sunday afternoon for visitation. The three of us spent a lot of time at Pop's, the roller skating rink over in Waseca.

Dad had a real talent for skating. He could go backwards like it was nothing. He could even dance on skates. I was getting pretty good at it too. Then Dad met Christine. She started coming along with us on Sundays, but skating wasn't really her thing. She'd bring a book with her and wave to us from the snack bar.

Then, one Sunday, my brother Logan and I were flying around the skate track when the music stopped and old man Pop called for a Pizza Box Relay. Logan caught up to me and we looked for Dad to join our team. Instead of skating, he was standing at the rail, talking to Christine.

The next week, when it was time for Musical Squares, he was sitting with her. After that, Christine didn't bother bringing a book. She didn't need to. She had my dad to keep her company.

A few weeks later Dad didn't go inside the rink at all. He dropped us off at Pop's front door saying, "You guys don't mind, do you? There's a furniture sale Christine wants to go to. It's a one time deal, and we need some things for the new house." I hadn't even known there was a new house.

Dad was late picking us up that day. The rink had closed and Logan and I were shivering in the parking lot when Pop, his daughter, and her little kid came outside to lock up. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Pop said. "You kids get back inside right now. You'll freeze to death out here."

Dad showed up ten minutes later. Logan and I were drinking hot chocolate in the snack bar when he ran inside, all full of apologies. Pop steered him into the office before he could reach us. They'd closed the door but we could still hear them yelling. "Charlie, what in hell were you thinking leaving those kids here like that? I've known you since you were just a boy and I've always had a high opinion of you but this, this -- "

Dad burst from the room, red faced. "Come on, kids, we've got to go."

We never went skating again.

I still don't know whether Dad was too embarrassed to show his face at Pop's Rink, or whether it was my mom who caused it. She was totally pissed with Dad when she found out. There were lawyers involved and everything. I didn't see my dad for six months. Things were different after that.

Logan didn't mind so much, I guess. He was already a teenager by then. Hanging out with a parent wasn't exactly high on his wishlist of things to do. I missed my dad though. I think I missed skating too. Maybe it was nostalgia that sent me to the middle school gym early that Saturday morning.

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