Hell's Belles (2 page)

Dad quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of dollar bills.

“Jeesh,” she huffed, sweeping up the bills from the tabletop and tucking them into the neckline of her shirt. “Two whole bucks. Ain't that generous? I'll try not to spend it all in one place!”

With a clatter, she gathered the plates and cutlery from the table, balanced them on her palm, and held them high above her head as she sashayed off toward the kitchen. She could hear Dad's laughter following her all the way to the sink.

Annie was glad that she'd made Dad laugh. He needed some distraction from all the pressure. As she ran hot water over the smudges on the plate and brushed the crumbs of tart crust into the drain, she thought about the two dollars Dad had “tipped” her. It gave her an idea.

Why couldn't she
really
bring in a little extra money? She was fourteen years old, after all. She should be contributing. And not just by working for free at Rosie Lee's — by actually earning some extra cash.

So what could she do? Between school, homework, and her roller derby practice schedule, she'd need extremely flexible hours. And she knew that here, anyone under sixteen wasn't allowed to work at night during the school year. This was going to take some serious thought.

She dried her hands on a paper towel and returned to the cozy little dining area, where Dad had gone back to his invoices and bank statements. He was attacking his paperwork with new resolve and she didn't want to bother him. So she went back to the table where she'd left her algebra homework and sat down.

But she couldn't concentrate on her assignment.

She had to find a way to earn some extra money until the shop got off the ground.

She thought about applying for a job in one of the cool clothing stores at the mall, but there were two problems with that: one, Dad would be too busy to drive her, and two, she'd probably spend ninety percent of her pay buying clothes with the employee discount.

Frustrated, she tapped her pencil on her notebook and stared out the window.

A woman was approaching along the pavement. Annie noted absently that the woman was pushing a buggy — no, wait, this was America, so it was a stroller — and appeared to be completely exhausted. One glance in the stroller and Annie understood why: triplets!

Annie watched the woman pause outside the door to Rosie Lee's. Annie guessed that she was debating with herself about coming in, telling herself she should really get home and get dinner started. But if ever there was a person who needed a good cup of tea, it was her!

Annie sprang up from her chair and flew to the door, opening it with a big smile.

“Hello, there,” she said, turning on the charm of her British accent. “Can I give you a hand?” She held the door open as far as it would go to accommodate the giant stroller and beamed at the three babies. “Oh, look at them! They're gorgeous!”

And they were. The chill in the afternoon air had given their plump little cheeks a rosy glow. There was very little hair on their heads, but based on the colors of their outfits, Annie was able to surmise that there were two boys and one girl. She pointed to the pale pink wool of the baby girl's sweater and beamed. “We have cupcakes iced in that exact color!”

If the triplets' mother had been considering going on her way, it was clear that she was now seriously entertaining the idea of stopping in.

Annie guessed it was partly due to her friendly flattery, and partly because of the irresistible aromas of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon emanating from inside.

After one more moment of hesitation, the lady maneuvered the stroller through the door. Dad looked up from his books and smiled at Annie. She winked back at him.

While Dad poured their customer a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea, Annie took the woman's coat and hung it on one of the pegs beside the bulletin board. Then she played peek-a-boo with the babies, who giggled while their mother enjoyed her drink and a cream-topped scone.

Twenty minutes later, the woman was revitalized and ready to go. Annie helped the woman guide her industrial-sized baby vehicle back out the door.

“This was so nice,” the young mother said, sighing. “That scone was to die for, and you have no idea how great it was to relax for a while.”

“I'm so glad you enjoyed it,” Annie said sincerely. “Please come back. And tell your friends. My dad's thinking about introducing a whole menu just for little ones, actually.”

Dad shot Annie a look that said,
I am?

And Annie replied with a little nod that said,
You are now!

“That's a wonderful idea,” the mother said, reaching down to adjust the hood of the little girl's pink sweater. “Baby-friendly places are few and far between. I can't wait to tell my Mommy and Me group all about this place.”

When the door closed behind their customer, Annie smiled at her dad.

“Since when do we serve baby food?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. But he was grinning broadly, and Annie could tell he was impressed by her salesmanship.

“Don't worry, Dad,” she said, hurrying back to her table and tearing a sheet of paper from her notebook. “I predict those Mommy and Me ladies are going to become regulars before you know it. You saw how exhausted that woman was. She needs Rosie Lee's!”

Dad looked skeptical. “That's great, Annie, but I'm not sure a café filled with crying toddlers is going to appeal much to other customers.”

“Not a problem! She won't be bringing the kids with her. She'll want to escape sometimes with her friends.”

“All right,” Dad said slowly. “One question, though. While all those mothers are here enjoying tea and cakes, who's going to be watching their little monsters?”

In lieu of an answer, Annie marched across the shop and pinned the sheet of notebook paper to the bulletin board with a flourish. It fluttered there for a second, stuck between an ad for a dog walker and a flyer for the community theatre's upcoming production of
Phantom of the Opera.

“Me!” she declared.

Dad crossed the shop to read her notice.

MOVE OVER, MARY POPPINS —
THERE'S A NEW BABYSITTER IN TOWN!
VERY RESPONSIBLE, LOVES KIDS.
REASONABLE PRICES.
REFERENCES UPON REQUEST.
CALL ANNIE TURNER: 555-2702

Dad laughed out loud. “That's genius!” he cried, putting his arm around Annie and giving her a squeeze.

Then Dad and Annie went about the business of closing up for the day, wiping down the display case, rinsing out the coffee pots, sweeping the floor and closing the blinds. Annie wasn't even aware that she was whistling “A Spoonful of Sugar” the whole time.

“Need a lift to practice?” Dad asked, double-checking to be sure the coffee machine was turned off.

“Thanks, but I think I'll just skate over.” Annie plopped into a chair, tugged her bulky duffle bag out from beneath the table, and took out her Rollerblades. “Skating outside builds endurance, and I could do with all the help I can get.”

“All right then. Lock the door behind you when you go.”

Annie made quick work of lacing up her Rollerblades and putting on her pads and helmet. She also slipped into a jacket with reflective strips that glowed in the dark. With one last satisfied glance at her babysitting flyer, she turned the lock and rolled out the door.

The feeling of the cool air on her face was exhilarating as she glided down Main Street in the direction of the roller rink. As always, she was surprised to see how many people were out and about on this quaint little street. It was hard to imagine now that when she'd first arrived in Liberty Heights, she'd been worried it would be boring compared to London. But she'd met so many interesting people.

There was a lot to learn, living in a new country, and despite her slightly rocky start, Annie believed she was finally getting the hang of it. She'd learned so many new things already, and she liked to think that some of her English ways were rubbing off on the people around her.

Just yesterday, in fact, Lexie had gotten a B+ on a science quiz and exclaimed to Annie that the high score had her “utterly gobsmacked.” Annie laughed now, remembering how funny the word had sounded in Lexie's Midwestern accent.

Strange how things turn out,
she thought.

As she rounded the corner that put her on the road leading to the rink, Annie felt a thrill of anticipation. She was minutes away from getting bumped, shoved, and potentially flung into a wall.

And she couldn't be happier about it!

“'Sup, Anne R. Key?”

Annie smiled when she heard the friendly greeting from across the lobby. Anne R. Key was her roller derby name, chosen in homage to the Sex Pistols song “Anarchy in the UK.” She glanced over and saw a familiar mop of shaggy black hair behind the rental counter. Jesse was manning the booth, as always.

“Not much,” she replied, waving. She rolled skillfully across the worn carpet and leaned her elbows on the counter. “What's up with you?”

Jesse plonked a pair of battered quad skates on the counter for Annie. She couldn't wear her Rollerblades to play roller derby.

“Just getting some music together for the next bout,” he said, showing her his iPod. True to form, he'd downloaded some great old Runaways tunes, a couple of Elvis Costello classics, and an entire B-52s album.

“Mainstream punk,” he observed, then chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. “That's kind of a contradiction in terms, isn't it?”

“Yes, but I know exactly what you mean.” These were the names everyone thought of when they heard the term “punk rock.” But Jesse, like Annie, had a far broader frame of musical reference. They were both fans of lesser-known bands like Black Flag and Meat Puppets. It was one of the things she really liked about him.

Coach Ritter blew her whistle, signaling that it was time to warm up.

“Hey,” said Jesse, as Annie pushed off on her skates. “You really were awesome in last week's bout against the Derby Dolls.”

Annie laughed. “More like the Derby
Dulls!
But thanks. It was a great start, but we've still got a long way to go if we want to be league champs.” She motioned to where the rest of the Liberty Belles were falling into line. “Which is why I'd better get moving.”

As she skated away to join her teammates, she felt Jesse's eyes following her the whole way.
He's a good friend,
she thought.
Always looking out for me.
She joined the others and took her place beside Lauren.

Lauren DeMarco was a freshman, like Annie, and also new to the world of roller derby.

Lauren was Annie's “derby wife.” Annie had found that term a little peculiar when she'd first heard it. But she'd soon learned that it was just a funny way to describe a teammate who always had your back.

Another team, the High Rollers, was practicing on the track. The noise of their collective wheels going around and around echoed through the rink, sounding like the growling of some enormous beast.

“Everybody down on the floor to stretch out,” Liz, the team captain, directed.

Obediently, Annie, Lauren, and the others lowered themselves to the carpet. It was old and filthy and smelled horrid.

“I try not to think about what this carpet might be contaminated with,” Lauren whispered, wrinkling her nose.

“I know what you mean,” Annie replied. “It's hard to know what's scarier — the High Rollers or whatever germs might be festering in this nasty old carpet.”

Lauren gave an exaggerated sniff toward the grimy carpet pile. “Smells like some kind of fungus to me.”

“Oh no!” Annie squealed in mock horror. “There's a fungus among us!”

“Oh, please!” Holly rolled her eyes and laughed. “A real roller girl wouldn't be put off by something as harmless as a little mold, Princess.” Holly liked to tease Annie with the nickname Princess because of her slight resemblance to Kate Middleton.

“Mold or no mold,” said Liz, “never underestimate the importance of a good stretching warm-up.” She reached forward over her long, muscular legs to touch the toes of her skates. “Loosen up those quadriceps, and stretch out those hip flexors. The more limber you are, the less likely you'll be to pull a muscle.”

Annie knew that was true of every sport. Ten years of gymnastics had hammered that into her. Without so much as a grunt of discomfort, she arranged her legs into a wide straddle and pressed her torso outward until her chest and ribcage were flat against the floor.

A few of the other girls attempted to copy her stretch. Their efforts yielded moans of pain.

“I could try forever,” Lauren said with a sigh. “I'll never be that flexible.”

“Well, it took me years to get this bendy,” Annie said modestly. “And my bony bum isn't great for blocking. But that's what I like about derby. Roller girls come in all shapes and sizes.”