Dorothy’s Derby Chronicles: Rise of the Undead Redhead

by Meghan Dougherty

  After an hour of practice, it was time to head to school. Dorothy grabbed a cold Toaster Tart and waved good-bye to Sam, Grandma, and Morti, who were practicing Tai Chi in the parlor.

  The morning air was chilly but invigorating. Autumn leaves made a satisfying crunching sound under Dorothy’s skates. She practiced hopping over sidewalk cracks and weaving through rocks and gravel, and before she knew it, she was skating into the J. Elway parking lot. No falls, no scraped knees, and no tangles with rosebushes.

  And I still have time to catch up on homework, she thought as she rolled inside the school.

  The halls were nearly empty. She passed a janitor pushing a broom and a couple of teachers getting ready for class. She didn’t see any students. At least not until she turned the corner to her bank of lockers. Someone was standing in front of locker number 13. Someone with silky blond hair. And she was scratching the door with a house key.

  Dorothy gasped. “Alex?”

  Alex whipped around, looking like a toddler caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “What are you doing to my stickers?” Dorothy yelled.

  “They’re not your…They…” Alex stammered, her cheeks turning red. Alex’s jaw snapped closed and she curled her manicured fingers into trembling fists.

  Dorothy’s mouth fell open. She was so surprised it took a second to register what Alex was doing.

  Just as suddenly, Alex let out a tiny shriek, and with a flip of her ponytail, she ran away.

  “Coward!” Dorothy yelled, slamming into her locker. Dorothy pushed off the cold metal door and skated after Alex, but an elderly teacher stuck his balding head out of his classroom door and frowned.

  Dorothy hit the brakes, smiled nervously at the teacher, and skated back to her locker. She just wanted to get to the bottom of Alex’s issues.

  Dorothy examined the locker door. Thin scratches scarred several of the sparkly stickers. Dorothy ran her finger over the penguin’s sash, where the lines were heaviest.

  What does Alex have against Mr. Pretty? Dorothy thought. Fortunately, none of the scratches were very deep. The stickers had been sealed to the locker with a heavy coating of some sort of clear glue. Whoever had put them there had made sure that the Mr. Pretty wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  Dorothy dialed in her combo and opened the door. As always, the big lips smiled back at her.

  Dorothy stuck her tongue out at the sticker. “More like Slugs ’n’ Hisses,” she grumbled.

  In P.E., Dorothy was determined to confront Alex, but she didn’t get the chance. Ms. Nailer ordered the class to jump rope for the whole period. After only a few minutes of jumping, the Pompoms were excused to go to the library to work on their next awareness project: Drool Ain’t Cool. Wear a Bib, Zombie People.

  Jade and Dorothy took a break from jumping to watch the Pompoms trot merrily out of the gymnasium.

  “Zombie bibs? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jade said.

  One of the Pompoms stuck her tongue out at Dorothy.

  Dorothy scowled back. “It’s not a real project. They’re making fun of me.”

  “Why?” Jade asked. “Because you’re the Undead Redhead?”

  “Yeah. Something like that,” Dorothy said.

  Whoosh! CRACK!

  Dorothy and Jade yelped, spinning around to see Ms. Nailer brandishing a jump rope like a whip. Yellow teeth bared, she swung the rope over her head once and snapped it down just inches from Dorothy’s toes. “Now JUMP!”

  Dorothy and Jade jumped.

  Ms. Nailer snorted and raised the whip again. “With jump ropes?”

  Thirty minutes later they were still jumping rope. Dorothy’s lungs burned, and her knees felt like Jell-O. If she kept this up much longer, she would collapse. She was sure of it.

  Fortunately, the class got an unexpected break when the door to the girls’ dressing room swung open. A girl the size of a refrigerator strutted into the gymnasium. She was wearing a black leather jacket, and her hair was slicked back like that of a 1950s greaser.

  Ms. Nailer stepped in front of the big girl, blocking her way. The girl took a bold step forward and glared down into the gym teacher’s sour face.

  “Nice of you to show up, Dee,” Ms. Nailer growled through gritted teeth.

  “Nice of you to let dead animals live in your mouth,” Dee said, leaning back and waving her hand in front of her nose.

  Juana slunk farther back into her corner while Jade gave Dorothy a conspiratorial smile. Dinah, Ruth, and Lizzy giggled.

  “Quiet!” Ms. Nailer barked, scanning the floor with her angry, beady eyes.

  Everyone quickly went back to jumping rope.

  Ms. Nailer turned back to Dee. “It’s not going to work this time, Dee. Get a rope.”

  The girl shook a meaty fist in Ms. Nailer’s direction.

  “Oh, come on, Nailer. You know you want to send me to detention.”

  “Congratulations, Dee. You’ve just earned that detention,” Ms. Nailer said.

  Dee grunted and retracted her fist. A bead of nervous sweat slid down her wide nose. “Fine. I’ll be on my way then.”

  “No chance,” Ms. Nailer sneered. “You’re not getting out of my class this time. You’ll be going to after-school detention.” Ms. Nailer pointed to the jumping students. “Now get that rope.”

  Dorothy exchanged looks with Jade. “Who is she?” Dorothy mouthed.

  Jade crossed her wrists and jumped through the twist a few times. “Dee’s the toughest girl in school. And she ditches a lot. They say she’ll do just about anything if she thinks it will get her out of class.”

  Dorothy bit her lip and stared nervously at Dee.

  Dee shot Dorothy a menacing look. “You want a knuckle sandwich, twerp?”

  Chapter 11

  The cafeteria was filled with noisy students, but none of them were in line for chicken-fried steak.

  More for me, Dorothy thought. I’m so hungry I could eat my skates. Between jumping rope for an hour and skating to school, she was almost too famished to lift the tray.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Gigi said, yanking the tray from Dorothy’s hands. “Even I don’t eat the cafeteria food.”

  “What else is there?” Dorothy asked.

  “Salad,” Gigi said. She gestured to a table at the back of the cafeteria, where Jade was already nibbling on a forkful of leafy green vegetables.

  Dorothy shook her head. “No thanks. I need something more than rabbit food.”

  Gigi shrugged and handed back Dorothy’s tray. “Suit yourself.”

  Dorothy’s appetite vanished as a wide-smiling, gap-toothed, elderly lunch lady slapped a mysterious meat patty covered in gravy onto her plate. It could have been broiled frog for all Dorothy knew. Dorothy trudged her way through the maze of lunch tables, wishing she had taken Gigi’s advice. No way could she eat…whatever that was.

  She was halfway across the cafeteria when she felt her feet come out from under her. Her tray crashed to the floor and Dorothy smashed face-first into a pile of instant potatoes. Green beans and bits of meat splashed everywhere.

  “Frappit,” Dorothy spluttered. Her face felt hot, either from potatoes or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure. In her potato-blurred peripheral vision, she saw a foot slip back under the table to her right.

  Dorothy wiped potatoes out of her eyes and got to her feet. “Who tripped me?” she yelled. A group of smirking Pompoms stared back at her. Alex was among them, looking particularly guilty with her eyes glued to her crust-free sandwich.

  “Did you hear something?” one of the Pompoms asked.

  “Nope,” said another. “Probably just a ghost.”

  The Pompoms giggled.

  “She’s not a ghost,” a cheery voice said. Dorothy looked to her left and saw Dinah grinning up at her.
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  Dinah was sharing a table with Lizzy and Juana, neither of whom returned Dorothy’s gaze. Lizzy was busy making notes in her Space Fleet manual, and Juana was quietly repacking her uneaten lunch into a paper bag.

  Dinah hopped out of her seat and bounced over to Dorothy. She wiped a finger across Dorothy’s cheek and took a lick. “See?” she said, smacking her lips. “Not a ghost. Just mashed potatoes.”

  “Nobody asked you, you little peon,” a Pompom sneered.

  Dinah’s childlike grin melted into a pout. “Little? Peon?” she repeated. As the insult sunk in, anger sparked behind Dinah’s eyes. Next thing Dorothy knew, Dinah was punching and kicking at the air. “Boom!” she shouted. “Pow! Pow! Kablooie! I may be small, but I’m fierce. You mess with me and I’ll explode.”

  “Take cover,” one of the Pompoms joked. “I think Dinah’s gonna blow.”

  The Pompoms snickered.

  “Yeah. Like dynamite,” another Pompom teased. “Get it? Dinah Mite?”

  “Dinah Mite?” Dinah repeated. “Dinah Mite!” She flung her arms around the Pompom who had just insulted her. “Oh my gosh. That’s perfect. Did you hear that, Dorothy? I just got my roller derby name!”

  “Um, that’s great, Dinah. Let’s just get out of here, okay?” Dorothy quickly scraped green beans and slippery meat off the floor and back onto her tray.

  “Roller derby?” a Pompom sneered. “That’s roller-skating for rednecks, right?”

  “Yeah,” said another. “Roller-skating is so lame.”

  Dorothy shot Alex a puzzled look. Alex returned her gaze and shook her head subtly, a pleading expression flashing across her pretty face.

  They don’t know, Dorothy realized.

  “Roller derby isn’t lame,” Dinah said, lifting a limp green bean from Dorothy’s tray. She wagged the bean for emphasis. “It’s for cool people like Dorothy, and Jade, and Gigi.”

  The slimy green bean squirted out of Dinah’s fingers and plopped onto a Pompom’s head. It clung to the girl’s blond locks like a juicy caterpillar trapped in bird’s nest.

  “Now you’re throwing food at me?” the Pompom said. She picked up a carrot stick and winged it at Dinah. Dinah ducked, and the carrot whooshed over her head, smacking Lizzy in her back.

  “By Glinktar’s Ax!” Lizzy exclaimed, spinning around in her seat. “Who dares violate the neutral zone?”

  “Go back to your book, geek,” the Pompom said.

  Lizzy bared her teeth, sunlight glinting off her silver braces. “The name is Lizzy,” she growled.

  “Right. I remember,” the Pompom said. “Lizzy the Lizard. Biggest geek ever.”

  Lizzy flew out of her seat. “That’s it!” she roared. “Big lizard, you say? I’ll show you a big lizard!” She stomped toward the Pompoms’ table, her Godzilla-like growls echoing through the now silent cafeteria. The Pompoms squealed, and several of them dropped what they were eating.

  “No, Lizzy! No!” It was Ruth, the big girl from gym class, racing across the cafeteria toward the Pompoms’ table. “Calm down before you get in trouble.”

  “Let me do this!” Lizzy bellowed, kicking a bagel like it was a soccer ball.

  The bagel landed directly under Ruth’s feet and the big girl slipped on it, rocketing toward the table, arms flailing.

  “Thunder Thighs!” a Pompom screamed, scrambling out of the way. “Stop now before you—”

  But Ruth couldn’t stop, not until she hit the edge of the table. The table legs groaned under the girl’s weight. With a metallic crash, Ruth’s end of the table slammed to the floor. The Pompoms fell backward from their seats as their lunches catapulted into the air. A tuna fish sandwich hit Lizzy squarely between the eyes. Lizzy tried to wipe the gooey tuna from her face, but it was no use. She couldn’t see where she was going. Her foot snagged the table leg, and she fell hard and fast, right on top of Ruth.

  Dorothy gasped. Both girls lay motionless in the pile of smashed food. Were they hurt? Unconscious?

  After several heartbeats, Ruth opened one eye and giggled. Lizzy rolled over onto her back, peeled a pickle off her nose, and joined in her laughter with a “Snark! Snark! Snark!”

  Dorothy laughed, too, relieved that the two girls were okay. The messy situation suddenly seemed hilarious.

  “It’s not funny!” shouted a Pompom. Her blond hair was covered in quivering globs of Jell-O. “You mutants are an embarrassment to J. Elway Middle School!”

  “You’re calling us mutants?” Ruth said before launching into a streak of hyena cackles.

  Lizzy pointed at the Pompom’s head. “Pretty—snark—funny—snark—coming from someone who looks like the Blob Creature from Planet Glooptar.”

  “What’s going on here?” a deep, female voice bellowed. Ms. Nailer marched through the cafeteria entrance, her intense black eyes zeroed in on Dorothy and her sloppy lunch tray. Dorothy’s laughter evaporated.

  Ms. Nailer reached the table and yanked Dorothy’s tray out of her hands. “Starting food fights now, are we?” Her breath stank of egg salad sandwich. “You and your band of troublemakers are in HUGE trouble.”

  Oh frap, Dorothy thought. What horrible thing would Ms. Nailer use for punishment now?

  Dorothy clenched her jaw. “It is not our fault,” she said. “The Pompoms started it. They should be in trouble, not us.”

  Ms. Nailer’s voice dropped to a hiss. “Is that so?” Her beady eyes darted to Alex, who was covered in wriggling spaghetti noodles. “You want me to believe that the Pompoms did this to themselves?”

  “Uh…” Dorothy was covered with food, too, but as usual, Ms. Nailer wasn’t seeing her point of view. Dorothy’s eyes scanned the cafeteria for someone to back her story. She spied Juana slinking away from her table, her lunch bag clutched protectively to her chest.

  Ms. Nailer followed Dorothy’s gaze. “Juana! Thought you could slip away and hide, did you?”

  “But she…But I—” Dorothy started. She hadn’t meant to get Juana in trouble, too.

  “But nothing,” Ms. Nailer said. “DETENTION!”

  Chapter 12

  At the end of the day, Dorothy reported to Mr. Macarini’s classroom. Sunshine filtered into the spacious art room through a wall of windows, but Dorothy’s mood was dark. She was serving time for a food fight she hadn’t started, and her bad luck was spreading. Dinah, Ruth, Lizzy, and Juana were already sitting at desks. Chunks of lettuce and deli meat still clung to the back of Ruth’s and Lizzy’s hair.

  Dorothy chose a desk at the back of the room and sat down quietly, but the chair’s feet squeaked loudly on the concrete floor.

  Everyone turned to look at her. To Dorothy’s surprise, no one looked angry or disappointed. In fact, the girls were smiling.

  “Detention is so cool,” Dinah said. “Do you think we’ll get to do crafts?”

  “I’m sorry I got you all into this,” Dorothy said.

  “You shoulds not be sorry,” Juana said, sweeping a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. “You had bravery, no?”

  Me? Brave? Dorothy wondered. She had talked back to Ms. Nailer, but that seemed more stupid than brave now that everyone was in trouble.

  Lizzy gave Dorothy a big, bracey smile. “Personally, I don’t care if they lock me in the brig with Dracknesian Glibnofs, I’d do it all again in a nanosecond. Those Pompoms have tormented me for years. Did you see the looks on their faces when I growled at their table?”

  Ruth giggled and gave Lizzy a high five. “And when I tipped it over?”

  “Okay, girls. Party’s over.” It was Mr. Macarini entering the room. He was followed closely by the refrigerator from gym class.

  Dorothy gulped. Dee.

  Mr. Macarini ordered Dee into a chair and then sat down behind his desk. The art teacher was a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache and long, curly hair. Dorothy had only known him
for a couple days, but he was definitely her favorite teacher at J. Elway—funny and nice. But by the disappointed look on his face, Dorothy guessed that was all about to change.

  “Miss Moore, front of the room, please.”

  Dorothy’s head drooped and she walked obediently to Mr. Macarini’s desk. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her back.

  Mr. Macarini spoke to Dorothy in a low voice. “Listen, Dorothy. I’m not a big fan of the Pompoms, either, but violence is never the answer. You should know that.”

  “But I didn’t do anything,” Dorothy mumbled.

  Mr. Macarini sighed and rubbed the edge of his mustache with a thumb. “Actually, I believe you.”

  “You do?” Dorothy said, relief washing over her body.

  “But,” the teacher said, “you’re still in trouble. Your friends ruined the Pompoms’ lunches and destroyed that table. And you didn’t stop them. It was a miracle no one was hurt.”

  Dorothy folded her arms across her chest. This is so unfair! “Come on, Mr. Macarini. I didn’t tell them what to do. It’s not like I’m their leader or anything. I’m just…nobody.”

  The teacher raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He nodded to the classroom.

  Dorothy turned and was shocked by what she saw. With the exception of Dee (now scratching her initials into the table with a thumbnail), everyone was staring at her. Their eyes conveyed a mixture of concern and admiration, eerily reminding Dorothy of how the Pompoms gawked over Alex.

  Dorothy snapped her mouth shut. I don’t get it. Why are they looking at me like that?

  “You may go back to your desk now,” Mr. Macarini said softly.

  Once Dorothy was back in her chair, Mr. Macarini addressed the class. “Listen up, people. I’m missing an electric ukulele concert to be here, so I expect you all to be quiet and study while I put my bachelor’s degree to good use in grading these masterpieces.” The teacher held up a painting that looked a lot like cat throw up.

  Dorothy unzipped her backpack and took out her math homework, but she couldn’t concentrate. She was still thinking about what Mr. Macarini had said. Did these girls really look up to her?