by Megan Sparks
If Annie were a roller girl in her fifties, she’d boast about it too. “What’s yours?”
Lauren grinned, clearly feeling proud of herself. “ten to the twenty-fourth power”
“That’s a massive number,” Annie said. “Why did you pick it?”
“It’s a yottabyte. Makes megabytes and gigabytes on computers look like babies, an inside computer-nerd joke. I love it. That’s the thing with derby numbers. They should mean something to you.”
If that was the case, Annie needed to give her number more thought. She’d always liked the number 96 – it was the same upside down and it was the year her parents got married – but that seemed a bit dull after “50ish”.
Lauren had finished packing up all her things.
Annie noticed a hoodie on top of the lockers and brought it down. “Is this yours too?”
“Yeah, thanks. I didn’t see it and forgot I threw it up there.” Lauren pulled on the black hoodie covered in brown and white dog hair.
Annie shrugged. “That’s what derby wives are for. At least tall ones.”
“I like tall girls. What can I say, I’ve got good taste.” Lauren punched Annie’s shoulder and headed outside. “See ya.”
Annie waved and gathered up the last of her things. People didn’t often compliment her on her height. It was nice. She had got so used to everyone saying how unfortunate her height was for gymnastics that she never really thought about it as an asset. She stood up straight and pulled her shoulders back. Why shouldn’t she feel proud of being five foot eleven and a half? It was just a number.
Number!
With a new burst of energy, Annie skated home at top speed. She knew exactly what her derby number would be.
* * *
Saturday arrived suddenly. But before Annie’s first bout that evening was an event just as exciting: Rosie Lee’s grand opening. Annie got to the café at eight in the morning.
Everything looked perfect. Dad had finally broken down and got a professional team to put in a new floor over the stubborn paint stain and gnarly raw bits left from where the booths had been. The result was a gleaming black and white chequered floor. The tables and chairs looked inviting, everything was spotless, and Lexie’s mural was eye-catching enough to attract attention from people passing by outside.
And that was all nothing compared to the gorgeous displays of scones, croissants, cupcakes, muffins, tarts, cakes, and cookies (they weren’t British, but there were no good cookies in town – both Annie and Dad had checked).
Dad had been baking since four in the morning. He was just finishing the sandwiches when Annie got there.
“Place looks great, Dad. I’m really proud of you.”
Dad leaned over and kissed her on top of her head. “Same here, Beanie.”
Annie checked the coffee, normal and decaf. Done. Hot water tap. On.
“Are you ready?” Annie asked, slapping her thighs like a drum roll. Dad tied on a clean apron and took a deep breath before nodding.
With a flamboyant gesture, Annie flipped the sign from “Closed” to “Open”.
“So what can I do?” She let out her breath and smoothed out invisible creases on the tablecloths.
“Glad you asked,” Dad said. “I printed some coupons I want you to hand out. Free coffee or tea with every pastry or sandwich. Watcha think?”
Annie held an invisible microphone to her mouth and put on a deep movie-voiceover accent. “David Turner was just a small town boy until the day his baking changed life in Liberty Heights forever.”
Dad bowed and blew kisses at the imaginary crowd. “I’d like to thank everyone who made this moment possible, especially my gods Dionysus and Edesia. And I suppose my daughter too, if I must.”
Annie threw a packet of sugar at him. “Cheeky!”
Dad laughed and pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re the best, Beanie.”
“You’re OK too, I guess,” Annie teased before pulling away. “Shall I grab my rollerblades, that way I can zoom all over town passing out the coupons?”
Dad ducked back into the kitchen and wiped down the clean counter. “Ah, well, I was hoping you’d do me another favour.”
“Why aren’t you looking at me? Is it something horrid?” Annie crossed her arms.
Dad faffed about adjusting the wrapping on one of his sandwiches. “Not horrid. I thought it’d be fun. See, since it’s a British-style café, I got you something to wear while you hand out the coupons.”
“OK,” Annie said, sounding wary. “But it better not be a Union Jack dress.”
Dad didn’t answer. Instead he pulled out something covered in dry-cleaning plastic. “They didn’t have many options at the costume store. It was either this or James Bond.”
It couldn’t be too bad if 007 was the other option. Wrong. The dress was frumpy with a matching handbag and came with a short curly grey wig and crown. An image she’d seen her whole life came to mind.
“The Queen? You want me to dress like the Queen?” Bond would have been a much better choice.
Dad started rushing around, searching for something to do. “I looked for a Kate Middleton-type dress but there wasn’t anything that would let people know who you were without explaining it.”
Annie didn’t think many people here would know she was the Queen either. “Do I have to wear this? It’s just that it’s a bit embarrassing.”
Dad forced a smile. “No, if you don’t want to that’s OK. I just thought it’d be fun and help bring attention to the café.”
Put that way, Annie couldn’t say no. “All right, then. But I’m still wearing my rollerblades.”
The bells attached to the front door jingled and an old woman with blue hair poked her head in. “The sign says you’re open.”
“That we are.” Dad darted over and opened the door the rest of the way for his first customer. By the time Annie left dressed like Queen Elizabeth II – on rollerblades – there were three more people in the café and Dad already knew them all by name.
Everyone outside who passed by turned to glance at Annie; it wasn’t everyday a bootie-blocking queen whirled around Liberty Heights. She hated all the stares, but kept reminding herself it was for Dad as she smiled and handed out coupons.
“Are you a real queen?” asked a little girl around five years old.
Annie didn’t know how to answer that. She didn’t want to lie but she didn’t want to be the one to tell the little girl that people in costumes weren’t always real. She went for a different approach: changing the subject. “What’s your name?”
The girl looked at her mother who nodded approval before answering. “Clara.”
Annie crouched on her skates to get to her level. “Clara, that’s pretty. Would you like to try on my crown?”
The little girl nodded her head enthusiastically. Annie placed the crown on her hair and smiled as the girl’s mother took a picture.
“What do you say, Clara?” her mother urged when Annie placed the crown back on her wig.
“Thank you, your majesty,” Clara said, curtseying.
Annie smiled and skated off. OK, maybe the outfit wasn’t that bad. She worked out who were the best people to approach with coupons, and who to avoid. Businessy types crossed to the other side of the street when they saw her coming. People on phones just threw the coupon away in the bin without looking at it. Mothers with four young kids heading to the barbershop also didn’t need a distraction. But retired men on benches, people strolling leisurely, and anybody else who had the time for a ten second chat about Rosie Lee’s got a coupon.
Heading back to the café to replenish her coupons, Annie found things really buzzing. Dad was running from one place to the other with a huge grin on his face, barely keeping up with everything that needed doing. Annie jumped in to brew a new pot of coffee, empty the dishwasher, and put six cupcakes in a white bakery box for Clara and her mother.
“I hope you know you’ll have to wear that costume again, or Clara here will be very
sad.” The mother winked and Clara waved until they turned the corner. Annie waved back but inside she was wincing. As much as she hated disappointing Clara, she hoped she never had to see the costume again.
She grabbed some more coupons and spotted Lexie and her parents sitting at a table with a proper cream tea: English breakfast tea served with scones, strawberry jam, sliced strawberries, and fresh clotted cream, which Dad had to make himself. Next to them was a box that Annie imagined held a sample of some other treats. On the house, of course.
“Hey, Annie, great look.” Lexie grinned, but knowing Lexie’s taste in fashion (today, even though it was getting chilly, she was in a Hawaiian-print dress with a flower in her hair), Annie couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or serious. “Though the footwear is a bit off.”
Right, sarcasm it was. “Next time you wear the dress, and I’ll keep the skates.”
Lexie’s eyes lit up. “Bring it.”
Dad came over to the table during a quick pause of the madness. “Thanks for coming, guys. Always a pleasure to have you here. Everyone has been asking me about the mural, Lexie. Fantastic work. You have a very talented daughter.”
“Thanks,” the three Joneses said. Mrs Jones added, “And Annie is such a joy as well.”
Annie blushed while Dad gave a cocky Han Solo-type smile. “I know.”
The doorbells jingled and Dad ran off to tend to the next customers.
“I better go too. Dad printed five hundred coupons that I have to hand out,” Annie said.
Mrs Jones, who only reached Annie’s chest with Annie’s added skate height, wrapped her in a tight hug. Instead of embarrassing her, the hug made Annie miss Mum. It had been a long time since she’d had a hug from her.
“See you later tonight?” Annie asked Lexie, trying to distract herself from how she felt.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Lexie pulled a large bag out from under the table and hugged Annie too. “Here, don’t open it until you get to the rink.”
“Thanks.” Annie grinned and put it out of the way in the kitchen before skating off with more coupons.
Like some horrid déjà vu, Annie turned the corner and encountered her worst nightmare. She didn’t jump over a dog and crash into someone’s yogurt, but it was just as bad. There, right in front of her, surrounded by friends, was Kelsey. With Tyler at her side.
Annie quickly changed direction, but wasn’t quick enough.
“Annie,” Tyler called.
Face glowing, wig and crown suddenly feeling very heavy, Annie slowly turned back around. With a deep breath, she skated towards them and gave Tyler a coupon.
“‘British-style café,’” Tyler read from the paper in his hand. “I thought British food was kind of gross.”
He was teasing, she knew that, but it still stung a bit. Even if Dad wasn’t British. “We’ve come a long way since the olden days.”
“Not far enough,” said Kelsey, jutting out a hip. “Or they would have taught you something about fashion.”
“Hey lay off, Kels,” Tyler defended her. “Annie’s just wearing that for advertisement, right?” A panicked look suddenly crossed his face, as if he thought that maybe Annie really was wearing the costume because she liked it.
“Right,” she agreed, though she would have agreed with Tyler about anything at that moment. He had stood up for her! “Hope to see you around.”
She held up her coupons in a wave and started to skate away.
“Wait,” Kelsey said. “Don’t I get one?”
Annie did a T-stop and glanced from her coupons to Kelsey. “I wouldn’t have thought you needed any cakes, Kelsey, seeing as you’re so sweet already.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Everyone, except Kelsey, laughed at Annie’s remark as she skated away. She shouldn’t have stooped to Kelsey’s level, but it certainly felt good finally getting one up on her.
* * *
Annie helped out for most of the afternoon in the busy café. Towards the end of the day, when things got quieter, she skated around the downtown again to hand out more coupons. Just before five o’clock, Annie returned to Rosie Lee’s, coupons all gone. There was one customer left, enjoying late afternoon treacle tart and tea, and an energetic chat with Dad about being an American in London. Annie wriggled out of her queen garb, grateful that the costume shop hadn’t included a corset, and helped herself to one of the leftover sandwiches. By the time she’d finished, the last customer was gone, as were the remaining slices of the tart.
“Good day, yeah?” Annie asked as she poured out the coffee and cleaned the containers.
Dad’s eyes shone as he changed the sign from “Open” to “Closed”. “The best. Ran out of the lemon and mascarpone scones by noon. The anise shortbread disappeared after I gave away some samples. And that last guy, Simon, took the rest of the treacle tart home to his family and wants me to make the cake for his six year old’s birthday tea party.”
“That’s brilliant. I’m really glad.”
A car outside honked. Annie looked at the clock and knew it was time.
“That’s Liz. She’s taking me to the bout. You’re coming, right?”
They looked around the empty café. There was so much cleaning to do – and the display case was almost empty.
Dad sighed. “I don’t know, Beanie. There’s a lot I have to do before tomorrow. But I’ll try.”
Annie gave him a hug before grabbing Lexie’s surprise bag and running out to the car. Her stomach was in knots and she knew it was more than just nerves. She really hoped Dad would make it; he had been to every single one of her gymnastics meets. It was Mum, never Dad, who always had to work late.
One workaholic parent was bad enough. She didn’t want to think what it’d be like to have two.
Chapter Sixteen
In the locker room, a black and red T-shirt came flying towards Annie’s head. She caught it with one hand. Straightening it out, she couldn’t stop staring at it. The front had Lady Liberty in derby gear with a tough scowl on her face but the back was the best:
Anne R. Key. 5’11” ½.
Perfect.
She put it on along with a pair of fishnets she and Lexie had bought and her lucky silver gymnastics shorts. Lauren wrote “5’11”½” on Annie’s arms using a marker pen and Annie wrote Lauren’s number on hers. Pads and skates on. Mouth guard and helmet at hand. She was ready to go.
“Annie, where are you going?” Sharmila said.
“Just having a look at the crowd,” she said, but Sharmila shook her head and pointed back at the bench.
“Not without your face.” Sharmila sat in front of her and began applying make-up. “I’m going for fierce sparkle with you.”
Annie didn’t know how to argue, and wasn’t sure she wanted to. Girls in gymnastics always plastered on the make-up. It was a bit like preparing for battle by applying war paint. Holly looked like a Hollywood starlet with 1930s make-up and freshly dyed flame-red hair. Liz had a green painted mask that resembled a butterfly. Lauren was done up with two black streaks under her eyes like an American football player – she had flat out refused anything that looked remotely girly, though her mid-thigh shorts were hot pink.
When Sharmila handed Annie a mirror she couldn’t believe it was her. She wouldn’t have thought to give herself that look, but the result was amazing: nastily cool scars on one side and stars on the other with almost as much glitter as Sharmila herself.
“All right, peeps.” Coach Ritter came in with a clipboard and her long auburn hair pulled into two low pigtails. “I know we were bottom of the league last year, but we’ve got a killer team now, so let’s show them what we got. Warm up’s in two minutes.”
Annie stood up and remembered Lexie’s surprise package. She took a quick peek to see what it was. Good thing she did. Lexie had got her a helmet and decorated it with a Warhol-esque portrait of Annie. It was utterly amazing.
Lauren leaned over. “Wow. Did you paint that yourself?”
Annie sh
ook her head as she strapped it on. “My best friend Lexie is a brilliant artist.”
“I’ll say.”
The team skated onto the rink to warm up. There weren’t very many people there and Annie quickly found Lexie waving a banner with old-fashioned house keys that said “Total Anne R. Key!”
Annie waved, pointed to her helmet, and shouted, “It’s brilliant. Cheers.”
Lexie responded by waving her banner more.
Annie kept skating around. She saw Jesse by the sound system and a few kids she recognized from school. But no Dad.
He’ll come. He’s never let me down. But Annie couldn’t help but worry that this would be the first time.
Liz got them to do some stretches before gathering them around by the sidelines. “Everyone looks great. Remember that blocking we’ve been working on, but most of all don’t forget to have fun.”
They cheered and sat on the benches.
“Good evening, roller derby fans,” Jesse said into the loudspeaker. “Tonight’s bout is between the Liberty Belles...” Annie’s team all cheered. “...and the Derby Dolls!”
Maybe it was her imagination but there seemed to be a considerably louder cheer from their team and supporters. If Dad were here, he’d put cheerleaders to shame with his booming voice.
“She might only be ninety-seven pounds but watch out for Holly Terr-rror!” Jesse introduced her. Holly skated around the rink backward and did a jump like figure skaters on television, landing on one skate.
“Feel the love as Sharmila the Hun sends out those X0X0s!” Sharmila didn’t skate around, but stood blowing kisses at the crowd and looking gorgeous as always.
“And here comes your Liberty Belle captain, going at one thousands revs per minute, make way for ElizaDEATH!” Liz skated around the track then dropped to one knee and spun around.
As Lauren skated onto the track, her face beaming, Jesse announced, “Time to call the cops, because Lauren Disorder – number ten to the power of twenty-four – is in the house!”
It was Annie’s turn next.
“One of Liberty Belles’ newest editions, from London, England, we have number five foot eleven and a half, Anne R. Key!”
