The Cheerleader's Guide to Roller Derby

Chapter Twenty Four: Not That Kind of Princess

It felt a little lonely driving to derby practice without Traci in the front seat - or Moni's constant commentary in the back. There was too much time to think. And thinking brought me worry -- about Traci again -- but also how Moni, Ima and Abby would treat me once I got to the bunker. I was concerned, too, about Coach Misery and what she would have in store for me.

She'd given me community service credit for the hours I'd driven to and from the bunker, for the two hours of extra practice when I'd taken my Level One assessment. She'd even added the couple of hours of conditioning I missed by taking Traci home early, but she hadn't seemed happy about it.

What if she decided to kick me out of derby? I took in a deep breath and when I did, a faint whiff of my skating gear filtered through the vehicle. I wouldn't miss that. I considered the collection of bumps and bruises I'd acquired over the past two weeks of practice. I wouldn't miss those either. I would most certainly regret not getting the rest of my community service hours in, not being on prom court, or even getting to go to the dance. But hey, maybe I could still accomplish that some other way. Volunteering for Habitat for Humanity had been fun. Maybe I could do more of that?

Even as I thought of a way around derby, I knew I'd miss that too. It was more than the chance to put the "unfortunate incident" behind me. I liked skating. I liked pushing my body. I liked feeling as if I were part of a team -- even if my teammates weren't all that crazy about having me on their side. Just as my lip started getting all quivery about the prospect of quitting derby, Payton Meeks song cued up on the sound system. 

She was singing about "that other me". I sat up straighter and started singing along. But when I got to the chorus, I stopped. I guess I had never really thought about it before but I suddenly realized that the song wasn't about what I thought it was. It wasn't an anthem about the joy of leaving things behind.

I smile at all my new-found friends. But know that it could crash and end. In an instant it could cease to be because none of them know that other me. Ugly on the outside but free to be ... just me.

"Stop it," I said out loud. Maybe there were things about being popular that weren't all that great. Maybe my cheerleader friends weren't exactly all LYLAS and BFFs 4-evah. Maybe they'd ditch me for skating with a roller derby team, or talking to Todd Emerson -- or eating potato chips at lunch. But it was still better than being a loser. Wasn't it?

*\0/*

Coach stopped me as soon as I entered the bunker. "Where's Traci?" she asked.

"Sick?" I said. I hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but that's what it was. I wasn't sure when I'd stopped believing it was just a tummy ache that kept her from school and practice, but I had.

Coach frowned and started to motion for me to come closer, but a group of the little ones mobbed her before she could complete the action. That was fine by me. I needed a break from thinking about serious stuff. I needed to skate fast and hit hard. Lucky for me, that night we were finally going to learn how to block.

Unlucky for me, Ima, Abby and Cara were already pretty damn good at it. After warm ups, we started with positional blocking. That just means: getting in the other team's jammer's way. After a few rounds of that, we broke up into groups. The girls who still hadn't passed their Level Ones skated half the track. They continued to work on getting into position. The rest of us (plus Moni. How'd she get in our group?) learned how to check with our shoulders and hips.

Using your hands to push an opponent out of the way, Red Rum explained, was not only illegal, it was a good way to get a girl hurt. It didn't take long to realize that there were a lot of other good ways for a girl to get hurt -- all of them perfectly legal. I was picking myself off the floor for the fifteenth, or was that fiftieth, time when Red blew a long whistle.