by Megan Sparks
“That she still wants you to find another interest.”
Great.
“And what did you say?”
“I told her that while we respected her feelings about roller derby, you and I both felt that it was a perfectly safe sport if you wear the proper equipment. I said there was no reason why you should quit.” He beamed at Annie. “How awesome am I, huh?”
Annie laughed. “Pretty awesome!” she said. Then she looked at the dashboard clock. “Dad . . . do you think if we hurry we can stop at home, grab my gear, and make it to the rink in time for me to catch the last half of practice?”
“Sorry, Beanie. It’ll take too long to go all the way home; we’ll never make it in time.”
Annie frowned.
“Which is why I packed up all your stuff before we left the house and put it in the truck!”
He jerked his thumb toward the back of the pick-up, where Annie’s derby duffle bag sat.
Seeing it almost brought tears to her eyes. “Did I say ‘pretty awesome?’ Sorry, I meant ‘the most awesome dad in the whole world.’”
“That sounds like me,” said Dad. “And now . . . to the rink!”
“To the rink!” Annie echoed. “And step on it!”
The Liberty Belles broke into cheers when Annie appeared on the sidelines in full gear, plus, of course, her new ankle brace.
“You can skate?” Lauren asked.
Holly rolled her eyes. “No, she can’t. She only put her T-shirt and wheels on to mess with our heads.”
“I can skate,” Annie confirmed, giggling.
Coach Ritter appeared and gave Annie a huge hug. “Okay, here’s how it’s gonna be, kiddo. You stretch out completely — no shortcuts. Once you’re warm and limber, do some nice easy laps. Take it slow. Don’t be a hero.”
“Gotcha,” said Annie.
While her teammates went back to the drill they’d been working on when she’d arrived, Annie dutifully did her stretches. It felt good to be moving again, even if her muscles protested a bit.
She finished limbering up just as the Belles were leaving the track for a water break. Perfect timing . . . Annie would be able to do her laps without getting in anyone’s way.
She glided out onto the track, surprised by how giddy she felt. Taking a deep breath, she pushed off and began to roll.
It felt wonderful! It was like being reunited with an old friend. The breeze in her face, the rumbling vibration of the wheels, the stinging in her quads as her legs worked harder and harder.
She had to concentrate to keep herself from taking off at top speed. But Coach was right. She’d need to ease into it if she didn’t want to damage her ankle.
“Looking good out there, Turner,” called Sharmila.
“You’ll be ready to kick butt tomorrow night!” Carmen assured her.
Annie did one more lap and joined her teammates, who’d finished their break and were ready to resume practice.
“Annie,” said Coach Ritter. “How about you pick the next drill?”
“Really?” Annie beamed. “Okay. Um . . . how about we go for Bus Driver?”
A few of the girls groaned, because this drill could be a really painful test of quad strength, but most of them welcomed the opportunity to work their all-important thigh muscles.
“You got it, kid!” the coach said with a laugh. “And you can be the driver!”
The Belles took their places at the four different “bus stops” around the track. Since the driver was meant to be seated as she drove the imaginary bus, Annie lowered herself into a deep squat and began to skate. She stopped to “pick up” the “riders,” and soon she was driving the entire team around the track, setting the pace, stopping and going at her own whim.
“Tunnel!” she shouted.
Obediently, the girls dropped to an even lower squat.
There were shouts for mercy, and quite a few muttered curses. Annie felt a fine film of perspiration on her forehead and her quadriceps burned. But she knew she’d be grateful for the strength and stamina she was building.
“Look out for the debris in the road,” Liz called from the back of the bus, and the girls all pretended to jump over something in the middle of the track.
Someone grunted. Then someone else said, “I hate the bus — I’d rather take the train!” Those who weren’t gritting their teeth in agony actually laughed.
Finally, Coach Ritter blew her whistle to end the drill. “Excellent work, Belles! I have to say, I’ve never coached a bunch of girls with such a great work ethic!”
“Think we can beat the High Rollers tomorrow night?” Liz asked.
“You betcha,” said Coach. “And even if you don’t, I want you to have fun. The exhibition should be a celebration of teamwork and friendship. It should be an opportunity to show people how great derby can be!”
As the girls dispersed, Annie sat down on a bench and began to unlace her skates. Her thighs were burning as though she had molten lava instead of blood coursing through her veins. It hurt, but she loved it. It meant she’d worked hard. It meant she was back!
Jesse appeared and sat down beside her, handing her a bottle of juice from the snack bar. “So is that the same old ankle you used to have?” he asked. “Because based on the way you were skating just now, it looked like maybe they secretly replaced it with a bionic one.”
Annie laughed. “If that’s your weird way of saying I haven’t completely lost my touch, then thank you.”
“You looked great out there, considering you haven’t practiced in two weeks. Guess that means you’re a natural.”
“Thank you again.” Annie blushed at his flattery. “You know what’s completely weird?”
“Um . . .” Jesse frowned in thought. “Lexie’s taste in clothing?”
Annie giggled. “No. What’s weird is that two months ago I had never even heard of roller derby. But now I feel like I really can’t live without it. Well, okay, I could live without it, but I definitely wouldn’t want to.”
“Wow,” said Jesse, smiling. “You’ve got it bad.”
“I do!” cried Annie. “I really do. These last two weeks have been horrible. Without derby — the skating, the competition, the people — I actually felt . . .” She bit her lip, searching for the right word. “Incomplete.”
She expected Jesse to laugh at her dramatic description, but to her surprise he didn’t. “I get that,” he said. “I totally get that. When you find something you really connect with, that’s exactly how it is. It feels like . . .”
Annie met his deep blue eyes. “Feels like what?” she asked.
“Like falling in love,” said Jesse softly. “That’s what you sounded like just now. Like you’ve fallen in love.”
His words seemed to go straight to her heart. For a moment, her whole body felt a little fluttery, but that was just silly. This was Jesse, not Tyler. She and Jesse were just friends. And they were talking about roller derby, not falling in love with a person.
Maybe she was just a little light-headed from so much skating.
Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it had come.
“I guess I did sound like that,” she said, blinking to break the spell of his storm-colored eyes. “I’m just so glad to be back.”
“It shows,” said Jesse, chuckling as he got up from the bench. “I’ve gotta go download some more Halloween tunes for tomorrow night. Any suggestions?”
“How about ‘Monster Mash?’”
Jesse laughed. “Gimme a little credit, huh? That’s a classic. It’s the first one I bought.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get cocky.” Annie rolled her eyes and thought. “‘Scary Monsters,’ by David Bowie,” she offered.
Jesse grinned. “Already got it.”
“Hmm.” Annie thought for another second. Then her eyes lit up. “Oh!” sh
e cried, certain she’d come up with one he hadn’t thought of. “Alice Cooper’s ‘Feed My Frankenstein?’”
Jesse’s eyes danced. “Got that one, too.”
He began to walk away, but after a few steps he turned to smile at her over his shoulder. “Guess you and I are on the same wavelength, Anne R. Key,” he said. And then he winked.
Boo.
That was the first thought that came into Annie’s mind when she awoke, smiling, on Saturday morning.
Her first American Halloween.
She tossed off her duvet and hopped out of bed, dressing quickly in jogging pants and a hoodie, then she laced up her sneakers and hurried downstairs.
There was a lovely late-autumn chill in the air and she breathed deeply as she began her jog up the driveway. Her plan was to take a nice easy run to Rosie Lee’s and admire the Halloween decorations along the way. Her neighborhood had certainly gone all out.
She loved the rustic look of tall yellow-brown corn stalks tied to pillars and lamp posts, and the pumpkin and haybale arrangements on porches. She got a particular kick out of the whimsical witch-crashed-into-a-tree that decorated the big old oak in Lexie’s front garden. And, of course, any house where kids lived had smiling jack-o-’lanterns on the steps.
It would be even better at night, she knew. Annie couldn’t wait.
Her leg muscles were tingling and her breath was coming out in frosty little clouds as she approached Rosie Lee’s. It was only eight on a Saturday morning, but she was pleased to see that there was a little crowd in the shop.
There was a table of women by the window enjoying tea and scones as they held their regular book club meeting. A young husband and wife with a baby in a stroller looked sleep-deprived, but happy to be having a quiet moment in the sunny little café. He was sipping coffee; she was trying not to nod off in the middle of her lemon-poppyseed muffin. Annie hoped they’d notice her babysitting flyer on their way out. They looked like they could really use her services.
Annie wasn’t surprised to see the sweet, elderly couple she’d invited in the day she’d been handing out flyers. They had become regulars and waved to her when she entered.
“No witch costume today?” the old man teased.
Dad was hustling around behind the counter. He looked up from a cappuccino he was frothing and smiled.
“Hey there, String Bean!”
“Good morning!” Annie unzipped her hoodie. “I came to help you box up the confetti cupcakes for Mrs. Brentwood,” she explained, making her way toward the kitchen. “Two dozen, right?”
“Three,” Dad corrected. “She called last night and ordered another twelve.”
“Wow, that’s gonna be some party.”
“Right?” Dad put the steaming cappuccino on a little tray and headed toward the book club ladies. “She invited us, by the way, but I told her we’d be at the bout. Oh, hey, do me a favor, Beanie. Turn on the radio, will you? I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance.”
Annie hit the button for the café’s “sound system,” which was really just a fancy CD player with an AM/FM radio.
As she went into the kitchen to begin boxing up the cupcakes, the DJ’s voice gave way to the silly lyrics of “Monster Mash.”
Annie smiled because the song reminded her of Jesse. The invigorating run, the spooky decorations, and the pleasant scene in Dad’s café had all combined to put her in a great mood. And tonight promised to be even better — she would finally be skating in a bout after more than three weeks off! And of course there was the post-bout Halloween party Liz’s parents were hosting for the Belles.
Annie sighed happily as she began arranging the gorgeously iced cupcakes in a white cardboard box. Halloween was going to be amazing.
If she could just manage to keep her mind off Tyler holding Kelsey in his arms, it might just be perfect!
Johnny Rotten smiled a snaggle-toothed grin at her from his place on her front steps.
Not the Johnny Rotten, the legendary punk rocker from the 1970s. Johnny Rotten the jack-o’-lantern, who was making a special Halloween appearance on the Turners’ front porch — courtesy of Lexie and a really sharp knife!
“It’s uncanny,” Annie said, giggling as she wiped the slimy pumpkin innards off her hands. “It looks just like him.”
“Thanks,” said Lexie, who’d been the one to carefully draw the singer’s likeness on the orange plant before allowing Annie to carve it out. “And the funny thing is that in about two weeks, he’ll really live up to his name.” She thumped the firm fresh pumpkin shell and smiled. “This jack-o’-lantern will be so rotten he’ll have maggots.”
“Lovely thought,” said Annie, wrinkling her nose.
It was six o’clock and the sky was a lovely shade of cobalt behind the silhouetted branches of the nearly leafless trees. The air was crisp and all along Annie’s street, porch lights were being turned on.
“It’s showtime!” cried Lexie, lighting a stubby little candle and placing it inside Mr. Rotten’s empty head. “Let’s get our costumes on for the trick-or-treaters.”
That was fine with Annie. She couldn’t wait to get into her vampire outfit!
Upstairs, she dusted her face with white powder to create a creepy pallor, then she lined her eyes with black and used a deep purple eyeshadow to give them a sunken look.
She outlined her lips heavily with black and filled them in with dark red lipstick, drawing a red “dribble” out of the corner of her mouth. It looked like she’d just made a fresh kill and there was blood trickling down her chin.
False eyelashes would be her only concession to glamour tonight. After all, her persona was a “sexy” vampire.
She bent over at the waist and shook out her hair. With Lexie’s help, she teased it to within an inch of its life and coated it with nearly an entire can of maximum hold hairspray.
When she flipped to an upright position, she looked in the mirror and gasped.
“I like it,” said Lexie, nodding. “You’ve got this kind of elegant undead look. Very enticing.”
Annie didn’t disagree. Although she couldn’t imagine how much conditioner she was going to need tomorrow to detangle her undead hairdo.
As Lexie went into the bathroom to put on her costume, Annie slipped into the vampire dress her friend had designed. As per Dad’s instructions, they’d shortened the slit that ran up the leg and added a little more fabric to the neckline. But even with these alterations, the dress still showed off Annie’s long legs.
All that remained was to pop the plastic fangs into her mouth. Just as she was doing that, Lexie burst out of the bathroom and flung her arms open wide.
“Estoy aquí!” she announced in Spanish. “Translation: here I am!”
Annie’s fangs literally dropped out of her mouth. “Ohh-kaay,” she said. “Here you are . . . but I have absolutely no idea what you are!”
“You mean who I am?”
“Fine,” Annie said with a giggle, taking in the man’s suit and tie and the thin black stuck-on moustache that curved up wildly at each end. “Who are you?”
Lexie twirled one end of the curly moustache and said, “Only the greatest surrealist painter who ever lived.” She took a debonair bow. “The artistic genius, Salvador Dali!”
“Lexie, that’s incredible. You look just like him . . . well, almost.”
Annie had seen paintings by Dali in the museums back in London. In her opinion, the only word to describe both the artist and his work would be “bizarre.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you’ll be the only person in Liberty Heights dressed like that.” She readjusted her plastic teeth and laughed. “Maybe even the whole world.”
“That, of course, was my intention,” said Lexie. “Now, let’s go introduce some trick-or-treaters to surrealism.”
“I think they’d rather
we introduce them to chocolate,” said Annie.
Lexie rolled her eyes. “And that, mi amiga, is the problem with America’s youth!”
Laughing, the girls headed downstairs.
After a steady stream of princesses, ballerinas, devils, clowns, and superheroes, Annie was getting anxious. She knew it was still hours before she had to be at the rink, but she just couldn’t wait any longer.
“Let’s just leave out a bowl of treats,” she suggested, closing the door on a giggling bunch of witches and monsters. “We can leave a note that says ‘help yourself’ and go to the rink right now. We can start putting up the decorations.”
“It’s way too early,” said Lexie, peering out the window. “Coach Ritter isn’t even there yet.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because she’s standing on your front porch.”
On cue, the doorbell rang, and Annie tugged open the door with a big, fang-filled grin.
“Trick or treat!” sang Abbey and Brandon.
“Oh my goodness,” cried Annie in mock alarm. “What have we here?”
“I’m a roller girl!” announced Abbey, showing off her skates and elbow pads.
“And I’m a fiuhman!” Brandon pointed to his red helmet.
“Well, please do come in,” said Annie, happy to see that Abbey wasn’t afraid of her costume this time. Even Coach had dressed up — she was wearing a sequined cowboy hat, a checkered shirt, and cowboy boots.
“Giddy-up,” she quipped, following the kids into the hallway.
“Coach, you look terrific,” said Annie.
“I couldn’t agree more,” came a voice from the kitchen doorway.
Annie glanced back to see Dad standing there, smiling. He was holding rather than wearing his werewolf mask, which was a good thing given Abbey’s aversion to it.
“Howdy,” said Coach, tipping her hat to him.
Annie noted the batter-and-icing-smeared apron Dad was wearing over the furry suit and torn clothing that made up his werewolf costume. “Were you baking?” she asked.
