The Cheerleader's Guide to Roller Derby

Chapter Seventeen: Eating the Baby

I came back around the corner and walked straight into someone wearing a flannel shirt over a Come To The Dork Side t-shirt. Make that a slightly misbuttoned flannel shirt. Todd Emerson. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Strangely enough, I was about to ask you the same question."

"It's ... it's complicated."

"Try me."

It had been a long day. I didn't owe anyone an explanation, let alone someone like Todd. But when I attempted to move around him, he stepped into my way. "No really," he said. "I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just curious how a girl like you ends up at a place like this on the same Friday night that all the other ..." He trailed off for a moment, no doubt searching for just the right insult. "... people like you ... are at the game?"

"What's that supposed to mean, people like me?" I said.

"For want of a better term, let's just call you, uh, connected."

"Hello? Captain of the debate team, editor of the school newspaper? Like you're not -- " I stepped back to make room for the air quotes I felt compelled to make. "-- connected?"

"Not the same thing but if you really require an explanation ..."

"I do."

"My dad is a huge fan of all things basketball. I, however, am not. But Dad's also a fan of corporate benevolence and the positive impact it can have on sales."

The what? Todd must have read the confusion on my face.

"Todd Emerson, Emerson Motors? They're a big sponsor of Habitat for Humanity. It's not usually easy to keep my dad from being disappointed in me but tonight I had two choices -- go to the basketball game -- or come here. I chose here. Your turn."

"I -- I'm just --" I was surprised by Todd's candor. That didn't mean I was ready to jump on the 'honesty is the best policy' train along with him. "I'm, well --"

"Traci? Chantal?" I could hear Coach Misery calling from the next room.

"Traci?" Todd said. "Traci Olson? She's here too? Now this is interesting. Come on, Chantal, tell me. Did I miss the announcement for the coming apocalypse?"

I slugged him on the arm. He was still rubbing the spot when Coach found us. "There you are!" she said. "Where's Traci?"

"She's ... she was just ... "

Todd spoke up. "She left with someone to help pick up more paint. Said she'd be right back." Talk about the apocalypse. Who would have thought Todd Emerson would come to my rescue with the perfect lie?

"And you are?" Coach said to Todd.

"Todd Emerson."

"Of Emerson Motors?"

Todd shrugged. "Yes."

"I thought so. You look a lot like your dad."

Everyone in a fifty mile area knew what Todd's father looked like due to his penchant for starring in his own TV commercials. He was "The Emperor of Emerson Motors", complete with crown and cape. Sometimes he even wore tights. The next time my mom or dad said something to embarrass me, I reminded myself, I should think of that. It could always be worse.

Todd must have been used to it though. He barely cringed before holding out a hand for Coach Misery to shake. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't catch your name?"

"Cher Murray," she said, taking his hand. "Or, as Chantal knows me, Cher N. Misery. I'm the coach of the new junior roller derby team in this area. I've been trying to talk to your father for weeks about sponsoring our team, but his secretary ... Wow, she's tough. It's harder to get through her than it is to eat the baby."