by Megan Sparks
Next they had to complete a circuit from one end of the gym to the other: three cartwheels on each side, straddle jumps, a backbend from standing, splits, and finally a sprint to the end of the wall.
Annie had no difficulties doing the circuit and felt fairly certain she did it well. The coach gave her the smallest nod but Kelsey looked like Annie was giving off a bad smell. Sigh. If Annie didn’t make it on the squad she’d have a good idea why.
“Gather round,” Kelsey said. “I’m going to teach you a dance routine. Try to keep up, ’cause really, a baby should be able to do it.” Kelsey scowled at Annie as she said it.
The dance was to an awful pop song that was just as popular in the UK as it was here. Argh, this tune will stay in my head all day.
Kelsey showed them the dance first before breaking it down. It seemed to involve quite a bit of hip thrusting and provocative gestures, or maybe that was just how Kelsey was doing it. When another girl joined her, the dance didn’t seem quite so suggestive. Annie decided to go with the other girl’s style.
The steps weren’t any more challenging than a floor routine and Annie caught on quickly, though some of the other girls found it hard. One of the girls who struggled with the fitness part turned the wrong way, burst into tears at the sight of everyone glaring at her, and ran out of the gym. Annie watched her leave, waiting for someone from the squad to go and comfort her. No one did and Annie wondered if she should. It was like survival of the fittest and at least Annie knew she was fit.
Just as Annie was beginning to imagine herself at the top of the pyramid, the hopefuls were taught the basic cheer.
“I want to see huge smiles on everyone and powerful projection from the diaphragm,” the coach said. “Remember cheerleading is ninety-nine per cent attitude and presentation. If you’re not perky and peppy, you’re not doing your job.”
This was the hardest part in the whole try-out: all the “rah-rah” stuff when Annie only wanted to go “argh-argh”. Even her gymnastics trainer in London had tried to get her to smile more: “Think grace and serenity. No one wants to see the effort behind it.” Grace and serenity might not be the look the cheerleading team was going for, but Annie was sure they didn’t want to see the effort either. Even smiling felt fake.
That was something she’d have to get used to, being more outgoing, more American. More like Dad.
“OK, that’s it for today.” The coach clapped her hands. “Use the stuff you learned to come up with a routine for Monday for the actual try-out. Don’t forget your enthusiasm and those smiles.”
Annie forced her mouth into a smile and hoped it didn’t look too much like she was in the dentist’s chair.
Chapter Five
“Hey, I scored some tickets for Saturday’s game. Chicago versus Chelsea. Wanna go?”
Tyler ran his hand through that irresistible hair and locked his intense green eyes on Annie’s.
Annie smiled at Tyler. She had on her silver leotard under the blue and silver cheerleading miniskirt. She looked good and she knew Tyler thought it too. “Of course. But I’m supporting Chelsea.”
Tyler took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t care, as long as I get to spend time with you.”
“Good.” Annie reached out a hand to pull him closer. She’d never made a move on a guy before, but this was no ordinary guy. Tyler was gorgeous and ... fading. No, wait, stop!
He didn’t. He kept fading until he was gone and Annie woke to find herself in bed, the sound of bowls clashing and the whirr of an electric mixer coming from the kitchen.
It was Saturday, so Annie didn’t have school and she could stay in bed forever. Except the smells coming from the kitchen were too tantalizing to ignore.
Who needed sleep anyway? She knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to the dream about Tyler.
Coffee was brewing, waffles were cooking, raspberries were on the table, and Dad was hand-whipping the cream. It was almost as good as any dream. Getting asked out by Tyler would have been better, though.
“Am I the best dad, or what?” He tasted a bit of the cream with his finger. “Dang, that’s good.”
Dad already had a waffle on a plate which he placed in front of Annie. He stood there, waiting, as she loaded it with raspberries and cream.
She took a tentative bite, just to make him sweat. The waffle was perfectly crisp while the cream was fresh and the late-season raspberries from the local farmer were deliciously sweet. She couldn’t lie; she wasn’t as good at bluffing as Dad.
“All right, I admit it. You are, undoubtedly, the best dad ever. These are fantastic.”
Dad leaped into the air and punched it. “I knew it.”
“But before it goes to your head, you’d better check the next waffle.” Annie pointed to the iron that was smoking. Dad rushed to take out his waffle, which was only slightly browner than ideal.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Annie asked once they’d finished their breakfast.
“I was hoping we could hang out with my other daughter.”
“Rosie Lee?”
Dad rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “She said something about a makeover. I don’t know. I have trouble understanding what girls want these days.”
Annie laughed. “I’ll get my painting clothes on.”
Even before the “makeover”, Rosie Lee’s was really starting to come along. It no longer resembled a place you’d likely get a side order of food poisoning. The former rodent tenants had been evicted and the display case mould hadn’t returned to get its revenge.
They spent the morning and most of the afternoon painting the inside of the café an off-white that worked as a blank slate. The difference it made was huge: now it was fresh and clean and...
“Naked,” Dad said.
Annie turned around to get the full view. “Yeah, it does feel like it’s missing personality.”
Dad nodded. “I’m not sure what theme I want. Something cool and hip. Maybe some black and white photographs of famous London landmarks? Or maybe a local artist wants to hang their work? Just as long as it doesn’t look like my mom runs the café.”
“Really? I thought some lace curtains would be nice at the windows and quaint tables with flowers and teapots covered in tea cosies...” Annie bit her lip and stared out of the window. It was the only way she wouldn’t laugh.
Dad shook a finger at her. “No! Stop! This is a doily-free zone. I have to keep some manliness.”
He backed up to check out the bigger picture.
“Dad, watch—” Annie started.
Too late. He stepped in the paint tray and tripped over the bucket as he tried to straighten himself. Globs of paint poured out even though he straightened up the bucket immediately. His trainer was covered and left footprints all over the floor. “That wasn’t the look I was going for.”
Annie laughed. “At least it has personality now. And it’s definitely not Granny’s style.”
Dad made a face before he started laughing too. Together they cleaned it up, but there was still a stain embedded on the floor, and Dad’s shoe remained covered in paint. He scratched his head. “Now I have to figure out what to do with the floor.”
A buzzing sound made them both jump and it took Annie a second to realize it was her phone.
Want to hang out?
Annie looked up. Dad was scratching his head as he stared at the paint stain on the floor. “Are we done here, Dad? Lexie just texted.”
“Sure, go have fun. Leave me here all alone to clean up the mess.” Dad threw his head back dramatically with his hand against his forehead.
“Do you really mind?”
“Course not.” Dad dropped the act and gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re making friends. See you later.”
She had never been to Lexie’s house though she knew which one it was. A light-blue colonial with perfect white trimming, it made all the other houses look scruffy by comparison. Even the front garden was perfect. Not a single blade of grass s
eemed to be out of place. Lexie had said her mother took out a ruler to measure the grass’s length. Seeing it up close, Annie thought it might actually be true.
Lexie opened the door for her and the inside was no different: perfectly arranged as if it were staged for an interior decorating magazine shoot. It was so immaculate it was hard to believe anybody actually lived in the house.
Lexie’s room, on the other hand, was completely lived in. Messy and artsy, it was exactly how Annie imagined it would look. One wall had a mural of a made-up world with pointy-eared people flying across the green sky and aliens fishing in the orange river. The other walls were covered with other artwork, posters of New York, and a mood board of the looks Lexie was going for that autumn. The desk and dresser were covered in clothes and accessories Annie was sure came from charity shops.
Annie helped herself to the clothes pile and put on a lime green tutu over her shorts and a pair of purple and pink legwarmers. She stood with her legs wide and crossed her arms in front of the mirror.
“You lookin’ at me?” she said in a loud tough-guy voice to the mirror. The mirror was too scared to talk back, making Annie laugh at herself.
Lexie looked up from her fedora. “Wow, you actually look cool. Like a roller girl.”
“Right.” Annie turned from the mirror, her arms still crossed. “Everyone keeps mentioning that and I have no idea what it is. Is it some American slang?”
Lexie laughed. “Better. Roller derby is a sport played on roller skates.”
“Like hockey on wheels?” Annie asked.
“No ball or puck or whatever. Here, I’ll show you. Easier than explaining.”
Lexie fired up her computer and pulled up some videos. They watched one with a pack of girls skating around in an oval and two other girls trying to break through them. One of the girls found a hole, snuck through, and the crowd went wild as she skated away on one leg.
“That looks wicked!” Annie exclaimed as they watched a video of one girl ducking through an opposing player’s legs to score points.
“I know, right?” Lexie grinned. “And it’s so much cooler live. Hey, check it. The Illinoisies are playing tonight in Prospect Park. That’s not too far. Maybe we can get Mom to drive us.”
“Think she will?” Annie asked.
“Sure, but let’s make it sound like it’s your idea.”
They rushed down the stairs and found Mrs Jones in the back garden tending to an immaculate flower bed of red, blue, yellow, and pink flowers. Lexie quickly told her about the roller derby and said that Annie really, really, wanted to go. She asked her if she could take them.
Mrs Jones set down her shovel. Even the silver blade gleamed under the rich dirt. “I suppose so. There’s a house in Prospect Park I’ve been meaning to check up on.”
“Yes!” Lexie spun in a circle like an excited dog.
“We’ll go after dinner. Come down in about twenty minutes.”
“Thanks,” said Annie.
They dashed back up to Lexie’s room. Right away, Lexie began flinging clothes in one direction and the other. “What to wear, what to wear?”
Lexie did have a point. Annie still had on her paint clothes and the tutu wasn’t really an option, no matter what Lexie said.
“Bingo!” Lexie emerged with black-patterned tights and a pair of hot pants covered in gold sequins. She held them out in front of Annie. “Can you believe someone actually gave these away? They’re a bit tight on me but should fit you just fine.”
“What should I wear with them?” Just as Annie said that, a red vest top came flying in her direction, which she caught with one hand.
She pulled on the outfit Lexie picked for her and immediately felt like she was five and dressing up in her mum’s clothes. Not that Mum ever had clothes like these in her wardrobe of smart business suits.
“I look like a tart,” Annie said. She tugged at the hot pants, not that it helped. They were still insanely short. “I can’t go out like this.”
“Are you kidding? You have legs to the moon. You’ve got to show them off. How do I look?”
Annie turned to her. Cream fishnets, which contrasted beautifully against Lexie’s brown skin, black micro-mini, and a pink off-the-shoulder shirt. On her ears were large hoop earrings.
“Like we’re both tarts.”
Lexie brushed that away. “C’mon. That’s the fun part. Derbies are great places to let your alter-ego show.”
Lexie’s alter-ego was obviously part punk, part gypsy.
Annie relented. She was secretly impressed with her look. And even more impressed after Lexie applied extensive eye make-up. Well, it wasn’t like she’d see anyone she knew.
Mrs Jones gasped when she saw how they looked. “Girls. You can’t wear that in public. What about that cute corduroy skirt I bought you at the Gap?”
Lexie rolled her eyes. “Ma, that’s so not my style.”
Mrs Jones was about to argue when Mr Jones put a hand on her shoulder. “Marilyn, let it go. She’s a teenager.” Sounding like the anthropology professor that he was, he added, “Lexie’s discovering her own identity. Adolescents in every culture go through this process.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Mrs Jones sighed.
Mr Jones smiled when he responded. “Just this once.”
He put an arm around his wife, which made her almost disappear into his chest. Mrs Jones purred contently before straightening up. “You’re my snuggle-bun.”
“And you’re my precious jewel.” He looked at Mrs Jones as if they were alone.
“Guys, please.” Lexie covered her face as if she was going to be sick. “Stop before I have to report you.”
Annie thought it was great, though it gave her a bit of a pull in her stomach.
Lexie’s dad was tall and African-American, the complete opposite of his petite blonde wife. Still, they seemed to complement each other perfectly. Mum and Dad were opposites too, but even before they separated, Annie couldn’t remember a time they got along as well as Lexie’s parents. She hated that her parents had split up. It made her feel split up too. But at least they weren’t fighting now.
Mrs Jones dropped them off at the university’s ice rink with cautions of not talking to strangers and to call if they needed to be picked up early. Lexie rolled her eyes but promised they’d be safe before they ran into the building. Rock music was blasting through the sound system and it was filled with families, college students, and what Mum called alternative types: green hair, tattoos, piercings. Maybe it was a good thing Lexie had dressed her up, otherwise Annie would have stood out for looking too “normal”.
They paid for their tickets and searched for a place to sit. The ice rink had been thawed, and three taped ovals, one inside the other, marked the boundaries. Folding chairs were set up on three sides of the track, but the only seats left were far at the back or the “suicide seats” on the floor.
“Is it safe?” Annie asked as they sat on the floor very close to the taped boundaries next to a sign that said “Crash Zone”.
Lexie shrugged. “Kind of. They skate in the inner circle. If anyone comes your way, move – or you might end up with a roller girl in your lap!”
Annie felt someone staring at her and turned around to see the black-haired skater boy she met on her first day – the one with the dog Sid Vicious. He gave her a thumbs up as soon as their eyes met. She thought about heading over to say hi when the announcer started up.
“Gooooooood evening, ladies, gents, and all those in between. We have a great bout for you today. During the day, these ladies are moms, teachers, architects, herbalists, lawyers, you name it. But when they lace up those skates, they become the Corn Hustlers and our very own Illinoisieeeeeeeees!”
The crowd let out a loud cheer. Unlike the pep rally, Lexie had no problem showing her enthusiasm as she stomped her feet on the rink floor. The announcer went on to introduce the women on each team. Most of their names were either sexy or vicious with puns intended like Viva La
Diva or Psych O. Killya. The women showed off their moves, and muscles, as they skated around the track in tights, short shorts, stripy socks, and yes, one was wearing a tutu. They knew they were hot and tough, but it was all tongue-in-cheek.
Four women from each team huddled up at the front and started skating when the ref blew his whistle. A few seconds later, two women further behind sprinted towards the group.
“All right then, explain the rules to me,” Annie said. Everything was happening so fast, it was hard to follow.
Lexie didn’t look away from the women as she explained. “Basically, the two girls in the back with the stars on their helmets are the jammers. They’re the ones who score. First they have to break through the pack – that’s the rest of the girls. Then they skate fast around the rink to get behind the pack again and try to pass the members of the other team. Each opposing team member the jammer passes is worth one point. The other team is trying to block the jammer from scoring while helping their own jammer score points. They get penalties for pushing, elbowing, and things like that. If it’s a major penalty, they get sent to the box.”
Annie watched a few more rounds before asking her next question. “Why is that one girl, Bette Noir, flapping her arms at her hips?”
“She’s the lead jammer, the one who broke free from the pack first. She can call off the jam whenever she likes. Usually to keep the other team from scoring or if she thinks she can’t get more points. The lead jammer changes each jam, but Bette is the Illinoisies’ star.”
The bout was fast paced, full contact, and unlike any sport Annie had seen. Women got pushed, shoved, and knocked down all the time, but they’d get up and get right back in there. Sure they swore and called each other rude names, but as soon as the whistle blew, they were laughing and helping up members of the other team. And best of all, they seemed to be having a great time.
By half time, Annie was noticing holes in the pack where she would have squeezed through if she were a jammer. At one point, there was the most golden opportunity, if only the jammer, Poison Envy, had taken advantage of it. There was no one in front or behind one of her teammates who was bent low. The jammer could have easily vaulted over her teammate to score lots of points. At least if the jammer had been the imaginary Annie.
