Demon Derby (9 page)

I nodded, still too breathless to speak.

“I’m thinking it’s totally time for some water. If I don’t get a drink, I’ll pass out!”

“God, yes,” I croaked.

After we got our water, we sat down to catch our breath while the derby girls created an obstacle course out of dingy orange cones. We’d have to maneuver through a narrow, winding path around the rink. The other applicants pointed out the sharpest turns and whispered worriedly in their little cliques.

“Oh, dang!” Darcy said suddenly. “I’ve got to go potty.”

“Go ahead, then.” I pushed her gently in the direction of the ladies’ room. “Watch out for the water on the floor. If they start, I’ll hold you a spot.”

“Thanks!”

After she left, I turned my attention back to the rink, leaning on the railing and evaluating the course. I felt someone walk up behind me, the prickling at the base of my spine that meant I wasn’t alone.

“I think you set a bathroom record, Darcy,” I said, turning around.

Only it wasn’t her. The hot guy stood there with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cargos and a confused look on his face. With that expression, he wasn’t intimidating at all, and I felt a little foolish about the whole running-from-the-rink thing now that I was face to face with him. This guy was clearly not the tongue-molesting type. Or the crying-fire type either. And he probably thought I was a tool after the way I’d acted.

“Sorry. I thought you were somebody else,” I said lamely.

He tilted his head. “How did you know I was here?”

“Oh. Martial arts. They teach a lot of awareness stuff. No big deal.”

“No big deal? Unless you have eyes in the back of your head, I’d say that’s pretty impressive.” He paused, considering. “Actually, I think eyes in the back of your head would be impressive too.”

I tried not to stare. His face was so perfect that it didn’t even look real, as if he were computer generated. It was gorgeous and freaky-looking at the same time, and that made not staring pretty much impossible, so I looked away entirely.

“It’s not that cool,” I said, trying for nonchalance. “You should see some of the senior black belts. To get your fifth-degree black belt in ninjutsu, you have to kneel on the floor while somebody stands behind you with a sword. They try to whack you on the head with it, and if you move out of the way in time, you pass.”

“You have to dodge it without seeing it?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and I felt like I’d accomplished something. “And if you don’t, you get bashed on the head?”

“Exactly. And the other black belts talk smack about you for the next year or so.”

“I bet they do,” he said, grinning. “So you’re not a fifth-degree black belt yet?”

“Nah. I’ve got years of training before that happens. If it ever does.”

“It will.” He looked me over appraisingly. “I’ve done some
combat training, and you’re a natural. I can tell by how you move.”

“Thanks.” I blushed.

“I’m Michael.”

“Casey,” I said, and then Darcy came back. This was probably a good thing, but I was vaguely disappointed.

“So when are we obstacle-coursing?” she said. “I’m totally ready now!” Then she noticed Michael standing there and immediately went mute.

“A few minutes, I think,” he said. “I should probably get back.” He nodded at me and then walked away without acknowledging Darcy’s existence.

“Um … who—who is that hottie?” she stammered.

“No clue. But I’d like to oil him up and make him feed me grapes and fan me with palm fronds.”

She let out a surprised laugh, and the tension went out of her shoulders along with it. Then the dreadlocked girl called all of us back onto the rink.

“All right,” she said with a smile everyone in the room returned even if they weren’t the smiling type. “I think I forgot to introduce myself before, and I see a new face in the group. I’m Barbageddon. I’m in charge of the Fresh Meat, and I’m begging you to not get yourselves injured and make me look bad in front of our new team manager.”

She jerked a thumb toward Michael, who froze under the weight of all the female stares, and then gave a tentative wave.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I want to give you a quick run-through of the course. We’ll be splitting you up into pairs
this time, so you shouldn’t need to worry about bowling each other over. The pads and helmet should protect your most important bits, but the floor still hurts, and we don’t want to break you just yet. That’ll come later.”

She grinned and walked us down the length of the course, pointing out the sharp corners and narrow stretches that were most likely to take weaker skaters out. There were a lot of them.

“Now we’ll be pairing you up randomly. Just do your best to cross the finish line on eight wheels, okay?” Everyone nodded, and she beamed at us in universal approval. “Good girls. Bear with me while we split you up.”

Barbageddon grabbed the clipboard from Michael and rattled off pairs of names. Darcy and I got called first, so we rolled into a corner to stretch out again and keep our muscles from getting too cold. I wasn’t shaking anymore, but my limbs felt heavy with fatigue. A couple of weeks’ worth of training could get you only so far after about a year of inactivity and illness. I only hoped my strength would hold out. At least we got to rest between events; if they’d been all in a row there was no way I could have finished.

“Darcy? Casey?” Barbageddon said, skating over. “Do you have any questions before we start?”

“Yeah,” Darcy replied. “Is that really … That guy … Is he …”

“She doesn’t deal well with hot guys,” I interjected. “They seem to addle her brain.”

“You think?” Barbageddon wrinkled her nose.

Darcy nodded and managed to squeak out, “Is he for real?”

“Mmmmm,” Barbageddon said noncommittally. “Any questions related to the course?”

“No. Thanks,” I said.

“All right, then. Let’s get moving.” She motioned us up to the starting line. “Let’s see what you’ve got, ladies. On your mark, get set, go!”

We launched ourselves off the line in almost perfect unison, with Darcy quickly pulling into the lead. I didn’t let it bother me, even when she edged a little farther ahead going into the first S-turn. After the last few months of perfecting my napping technique, I was physically weaker and knew it; I’d already blown my reserves in the speed drill. But I remembered something Sensei always said: “If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.”

Of course, since he was a ninja, he always followed it up with “If you get caught, you’re not trying hard enough.”

So instead of slowing down to maneuver through the twisty obstacle like Darcy did, I increased my speed with long, sure strokes, rocketing toward the cones on a collision course. Moments before impact, I cranked my torso down, elbows curled to my sides, and launched my legs into the air in a perfect aerial spin, like a cartwheel with no hands and on roller skates. Once I was completely airborne, I had to wonder if this was a big mistake, because being a good skater and a good freerunner didn’t necessarily mean you could do both at the same time without splatting, and I hadn’t been back on skates for long. But by the time I was in the air, it was too late.

I sailed over the first curve and landed on my toe stops, and then sprang back up into the air again, passing over the obstacle entirely instead of skating through it. That maneuver would shave seconds off my time. Darcy’s startled face appeared in my field of vision as I flew through the air just inches away. Then I touched down again, bringing my body into a crouch to preserve forward momentum.

Well, that had been surprisingly easy. I’d tried a few aerials over the past couple of days, but not two in a row. The best thing about them is that they relied more on momentum than on strength, so my technique could make up for the fact that my muscles were taxed to the limit.

Behind me, I could hear the scrape and hiss of Darcy’s skates moving at an even more frantic pace to try to catch up, but I blocked out the sound as much as possible. I focused on the next few obstacles instead, jumping over a hairpin turn, tucking my knees to my chest, and landing in a neat crouch on the other side. I kept going, my chest heaving with exertion. I skipped over or otherwise avoided as many of the obstacles as I could. I heard a smattering of applause as I passed the other applicants, but I didn’t dare risk a look. Darcy was close on my heels as we skated toward the final obstacle: the narrowest of the corridors, banked all the way up against the wall.

It was dotted with random cones to make it even more difficult to get through, which made jumping a poor proposition. If I came down on one, I could twist an ankle, or do something even worse. I pushed forward desperately, feeling Darcy at my heels, knowing that all I needed to do was get
into that corridor first and there would be no way she could pass me unless I fell.

Just as I reached the obstacle, she shot past me wrapped in a tight crouch, low on her skates. Her elbow whacked the back of my legs, shoving me toward a cone. My skate caught on the edge of the orange plastic and whirled me around. I windmilled my arms in a vain effort to maintain my balance.

Darcy didn’t even look back; she just kept on skating as I went spinning out of control. I had a moment to feel grateful that I was wearing a helmet, and then I hit the wall with my face.

My nose wouldn’t stop gushing. On the outside I was all, “It’s just a bloody nose. Chill. It’s not like my face fell off.” But inside, I kept thinking this was the end; I was bleeding more than a healthy person should; the leukemia was back, and this time there would be no miraculous recovery. More than anything, I hated constantly second-guessing my body. Sometimes it felt like every cough was a death sentence. I knew that was stupid, but I couldn’t help it.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Darcy said for the sixteenth time, patting my arm in an apparent effort to reassure herself it was still operational. I just wanted everyone to stop fussing and let me get up off the floor.

“Really, I’m fine.” I pushed her hands away and checked the towel clasped to my face. “See? I think it’s slowing.”

“Let her up already,” Ruthanasia demanded in a tone that made it clear to everyone she was losing patience with the whole situation. “We still have a lot more to do tonight.”

Her attitude ticked me off on the one hand, but on the other hand, I was thankful not to be coddled. The irony of this didn’t escape me.

“I didn’t realize you fell.” Darcy pulled me to my feet. “Really, I didn’t.”

“I know. It’s okay, honest. It was just an accident.”

Darcy took one arm and Barbageddon the other. It was embarrassing enough to have face-planted into the wall, but once Darcy shouted to the whole freaking room that I was a cancer patient in remission, they started treating me like I might fall apart at any moment. Literally. Like a leper.

I tried to skate away, and they tried to lead me toward the benches. None of us was successful.

“Let go,” I said, my voice muffled from my already-swollen nasal area. “I’m really fine.”

Barbageddon wouldn’t let go. “You should sit—”

“I’m finishing the course.” I set down the towel and probed tentatively at my face. No blood. About freaking time.

She still wasn’t giving up, and I knew she just wanted to help, but it was hard not to growl. Couldn’t she understand that I had to do this to prove to everyone that I could? Especially myself.

“But you need to—”

“Leave her alone,” Michael ordered from his seat by the exit. It was the first time he’d spoken in front of the group,
and some of the girls visibly swooned as his baritone washed over them. It tugged at the back of my neck, sending prickles up my spine. I wanted to look at him and maybe drool a little. But now that I knew to expect it, the urge was easier to resist. Not easy, but easier.

“Are you sure?” Barbageddon asked, her grip loosening but not releasing entirely.

“She’s fine,” he replied firmly. “Let Casey finish the course at her own pace.”

I flashed him a grateful smile and tried to pretend everyone wasn’t staring at me as I cautiously slalomed through the cone-filled track and across the finish line at a slow coast, but of course they were. Ruthanasia watched with distaste, Barbageddon with concern, and Darcy with hangdog guilt. Michael watched me too, but his eyes gave no hint of his feelings.

At least they weren’t flaming.