CHAPTER SIX | WALL

two or more skaters skate together to form an obstruction to the opposing team.

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          I hated feeling bad for Corinne.

          I hated that I could relate to her even more than I hated feeling bad for her, as I hated it whenever someone felt bad for me. As soon as anyone heard about Jordan and his descent into alcoholism and depression, they felt bad for me and for my family, because it must be so hard to deal with that. It was hard, obviously, and they weren't the ones getting bottles thrown at them, but no one ever stopped to think about him and his mental health. It was just his problem and how it affected us.

          Corinne, on the other hand, was the direct victim of her mother, apparently, living vicariously through her. That was something I couldn't relate to, being the daughter of two parents who barely even saw me and hyper focused on their other child.

          I related to her because I couldn't picture her being the type of person to accept being felt bad for. I didn't quite know what to say to her; anything I could say to try and make her feel better for the shitty night she was having or for the years of her life she'd lost trying to match up to her mother's expectations would only come off as condescending. Corinne Fontaine, so self-assured, would never let me feel sorry for her.

          "That sucks," I eventually said, after a prolonged moment of silence. She merely nodded, not looking at me any longer. "Sucks that you have to go through that. I can't imagine what it's like."

          Corinne sighed, head tilted down, her hair covering most of her face. "You get used to it eventually. It doesn't mean . . ." She let out a shaky breath, as though she was about to cry, and my throat closed. I'd never been good at handling people, especially when they were crying, and it felt so out of place for someone like Corinne to be in such a situation that it only made things worse. "It doesn't mean it doesn't suck. It's impossible for me to be everywhere and everything at once, and I know that, but I keep trying. I keep trying and, somehow, it's never enough. It's never good enough."

          I didn't know why I'd stayed there. In fact, I wasn't even sure why she'd opened up to me, out of all people, considering our mutual dislike for each other.

          Theo would know what to do in a situation like this. Hell, even Katrina would, and I was neither of them. This was a type of situation I didn't know how to handle—I'd never known how to properly handle Jordan and his outbursts—and part of me just wanted to run away and leave her in that closet.

           "I'm getting you some water," I eventually said. Corinne raised her head ever so slightly, just enough to look up at me through her eyelashes, and something twisted in my gut. It was the most human I'd ever seen her look ever since I first met her. "I'll help you leave undetected, but you have to cooperate. No stumbling around with a bottle, especially at my birthday party."

          "God forbid you're seen with me," she retorted. "We wouldn't want people to assume things."

          I kicked her in the calf. To my surprise, she let out a giggle, while I didn't even know she was capable of laughing at something besides other people's misery. "I don't even want to think about what people will say if they see me walk you to your dorm. I don't want to build up a reputation for myself this early into the school year."

          That was only half true but remained a very real fear. The thing about building up a reputation that I slept around wasn't too concerning up until the point I remembered I'd heard it all countless times before and didn't need these people to assume things about me. I'd seen it happen on movies and TV and to my friends—I knew what people would assume. They'd call me easy and promiscuous when I was just minding my business.

          I wasn't going to be overly sexualized by these people. I wasn't going to be treated as the problem, when they were the problem.

          "I don't think people will think we're hooking up, if you're worried about that," Corinne said. "I have a boyfriend," she clarified, probably noticing the look on my face, "and people kind of know about you and Marley. It's not like it's your fault, or anything. Unfortunately, people around here talk and love not minding their own business." She wrinkled her nose. "I'm running my mouth again. My point is: some people think you two are kind of, like, a thing. They love to speculate, and someone could get the wrong idea if they saw us in my dorm."

          "I have a feeling you're going to trip, fall, and break your neck if you try to leave unsupervised, so I'll take my chances." I sprung up from the floor and, against all odds, reached out a hand towards her to help her get up. She took it, albeit shakily, then stumbled forward once she was standing on two feet, nearly knocking me down. "Thanks for proving my point."

          She'd stumbled forward, but the only thing in front of her was me. She'd had to hold my arms so she wouldn't completely fall on top of me, and she could have very well let go of me as soon as she'd regained her balance. However, she hadn't.

          She was still shaking like a frail, thin tree in the middle of a storm, even though I was supporting both of our weights. For a split second, I feared she might throw up all over me, something I definitely wouldn't be able to explain to anyone in a believable way, but then she looked up.

          I didn't want to think about it, but she was still Corinne freaking Fontaine, and she knew she was pretty. The way she walked, the way she talked, the way she acted—those were all mannerisms of someone who just knew how attractive they were and wasn't afraid to show it. It was the kind of confidence I didn't really have, as I'd always been too busy worrying about other people and their well-being instead of worrying about me.

          I cleared my throat. The forced proximity was a little bit too much for me.

          "Let's go," I said, helping her steady her footing. She was calmer now, breathing regularly, and she almost looked like the old, normal Corinne. Arrogant, frustrating Corinne. "You can leave first. Wait for me outside." I opened the door, pushed her forward, but she held onto the door with surprising strength, blocking us both. "What?"

          "I need you to do something for me."

          "Bold of you to assume I'm not doing more than I wanted to do in the first place." I tried pushing her again, but she didn't move an inch. "Move."

          "Can you, at the very least, text my boyfriend and ask him to meet me in my room?" She briefly looked back over her shoulder, throwing me the trademark Fontaine glare. "I'm pretty sure your hands won't fall off and it seems like a simple enough task for your brain. My phone is in my back pocket. No touching, no staring," she warned, the exact second my eyes darted down. "Take the phone, text him, put it back."

          I exhaled strongly through my mouth, blowing her hair aside, then reached down for her phone, being extremely careful to not let my fingers brush against any places they shouldn't. She unlocked it for me when I handed it to her, pressing her thumb against the button, and opened her text inbox.

          It wasn't hard to find her boyfriend, even if I didn't know his name. Though there were no heart emojis next to his name, he was her most recent contact, complete with plenty of drunk texts sent from her end. I sighed, then began to type.

Hey. This is Wren. You don't know me, but Corinne here is pretty wasted, so I'm walking her back to her dorm room. She wanted me to ask you to meet her there.

          For a moment, I worried he—Drew—would think I was a guy and that I had second intentions when I walked Corinne to her room. I briefly considered adding something to that message to ensure I definitely, definitely wasn't into her and all I wanted was to distance myself from yet another drunken person, but he could very well not believe me, and I'd waste my time.

          Once I returned her phone, she hummed and almost skipped towards a couch, a clear contrast from her previous attitude. Knowing Jordan and the progression of his emotional state whenever he drank, she'd probably numbed herself down just enough to forget about the crying session she'd just had in the closet.

          Sighing softly, I counted to sixty, then followed her.

          Corinne pretended she was happy to see me, and I pretended I didn't hate her guts, so there was a small chance this was going to work. I just had to remember this interaction meant nothing and changed nothing about our relationship—or lack of it—and overthinking it would do me no good.

          Plus, she had a boyfriend.

          Her phone wallpaper was a photo of the two of them together, both blond, both grinning widely at the camera, and he wore a varsity t-shirt with her name on it. They looked absolutely perfect, like mostly everything in Corinne's life, and I wasn't going to come in and ruin it all for her.

          She stumbled out of the house with an arm around my shoulders, while I kept one surrounding her waist. She wasn't heavy by any means, but my arm strength definitely wasn't at its peak, not to mention I had to support both our weights and she could barely lift her feet off the ground. In any other universe, we could have been friends, but the fact that she seemed to be a fan of getting wasted on a regular basis completely made that impossible.

          Luckily for the both of us, we shared a dorm. Even luckier than that—we shared a floor, which helped me not get lost. Her room wasn't that far from mine, meaning my own warm, cozy bed was in close distance, and all that stood between it and me was a drunk, five-foot-two, French American blonde girl.

          "Easy," I said, as she tried to break free from my grip and nearly fell flat on her face. "Easy. Corinne, take it slow."

          "Bed," she muttered. "I want my bed. Where's Drew?"

          "He's probably on his way." I helped her sit down on her bed and she rolled to the side to lie down, hair sprawled over her pillow as she reached for her phone. "Hasn't he answered yet?"

          "He said 'oh, dear', you know, like this happens often. It doesn't," she added, when I hesitated. "I don't drink that often."

          I almost said she could have fooled me, but I didn't. Instead, I retreated to fill a cup with water, with the help of a pitcher, taking in the decoration of the room in the process.

          Like Katrina's side of the room, it was pretty organized, complete with piles of colorful post-it notes, but the predominant color was pink—in different shades. Neon, baby, rose, hot. It was the typical girly-girl room, except that wasn't all there was to Corinne, and she'd complemented the pink stuff with items one would call 'edgier'—band posters, a black wall (a black wall!), a dark, galaxy-themed tapestry behind her bed. It was also what she'd done with her personal style, pairing skater skirts with combat boots, flowery dresses with leather jackets.

          Boy, oh boy, was I ready to bolt. I needed to leave before the humanization of Corinne Fontaine made me emotional.

          "Here's some water," I announced, carefully setting the cup on her bedside table. She tossed her phone across the room, and it landed with a soft thud on a fluffy rug. "Will you be okay on your own?"

          "Drew," she sighed, hands set on her stomach.

          "No, this is Wren."

          She groaned, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Oh, piss off."

          "Ooookay. Time for me to go, then."

          "Wren?"

          "Yeah?"

          She exhaled, pained. "Thanks for hearing me out and not leaving me alone. I don't think I can thank you enough."

          "I'm sure you'll find a way of repaying me."

          Corinne smiled. "Maybe."

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          "Can't say I expected you to join me," Katrina told me, as we made our way towards the skating rink. I couldn't believe I was doing it, either, although I tried to convince myself I just wanted to watch and not actually skate. It tasted bittersweet, even thinking about skating without Jordan, but a tiny voice in the back of my head argued he wouldn't want to see me simply quit something I supposedly loved doing. "What made you change your mind?"

          "I'm just here to watch," I clarified. She playfully nudged me with her shoulder, the one that wasn't supporting her sports bag, and briefly knocked me off balance. "Hey!"

          "I know you helped Corinne the other night. I told you she would be cool if you gave her a chance."

          I huffed, running my fingers through my hair to keep it away from my face, and wondered when everyone would stop bringing Corinne up around me over one good, nice gesture. "I didn't know about her mother, okay? She was drunk and upset; everyone knows that's a recipe for disaster. It wasn't like I was just going to leave her there by herself—stop," I insisted, unable to ignore the smug look she was sporting. "It meant nothing. I still think she's arrogant and full of herself. I'm here to support you."

          She beamed at me. "That's adorable. I'm genuinely touched. Still, no one's stopping you from trying it out."

          "I am."

          Katrina stuck her tongue out as she held the door open for me and I held my breath when I took the first steps inside. It felt like an entire eternity had passed since the last time I'd been in a skating rink, and I definitely wasn't used to regular rinks, especially to a roller derby rink, which was, obviously, shaped differently.

          I was used to ice skating rinks, rectangular with curved edges, but the one in front of me was a full-blown oval. There was no ice and Katrina called it a track instead of a rink where, I was assuming, the skaters would be skating around. I got dizzy just by thinking about skating in circles; with figure skating, at least, I got to jump and do some pretty tricks. Roller derby was all about physical contact and moving forward.

          "I'm gonna go change," Katrina told me. "I'll be right back."

          I nodded, then occupied an empty chair on the bleachers. I wasn't the only person there; the other girls from the team had already arrived and there were plenty of people around to, presumably, try out for the team, along with those who had come to watch. Corinne was already on the track, fully equipped and wearing rose-colored skates, with a matching vertical stripe on her helmet.

          She saw me, because of course she did. I doubted there was anything here she'd miss, but nothing in her posture said she acknowledged my presence. She merely looked my way, then returned to her current conversation before anyone asked any questions.

          I considered trying out. There was nothing to lose by doing so, really, besides my pride and knowing I'd have to go through the sheer agony of spending time with Corinne barking orders at me.

          Katrina returned shortly after, sliding towards the rest of the team with impressive ease, wearing blue skates. She looked frankly adorable as she shot me a military salute in response to the two thumbs up I flashed her.

          "Alright, everyone," Corinne began, her voice booming and echoing against the walls of the building. Everyone stopped to listen to her, which I supposed was the normal procedure. "We're about to start try-outs. For those who aren't familiar with roller derby, let me give you a quick explanation of the rules.

         "We play two periods, thirty-minutes each, and we're a team of 15. There will only be groups of five players on the track for each jam, with one of them being a jammer, the one that scores points. You can identify each team's jammer by the star on their helmet." Marley raised a hand and waved like a pageant queen. "The remaining four are blockers, and one of them, the one with the striped helmet, is a pivot. The pivot can become a jammer. For that to happen, something called a star pass has to happen, which we'll discuss later, but we haven't had to do it very often. I become the jammer, take all the points the previous jammer has collected, and the jammer becomes a non-pivot blocker.

          "We skate counterclockwise around the track." Corinne gestured around her. "The jammer has to break through the opposing team's blockers—the pack—, become the lead jammer, and skate one lap; after that, they'll score one point when they pass a blocker. It sounds easy enough but remember: the other team will be trying to do the exact same thing while trying to block our jammer from lapping. The pivot will start a few feet ahead of the blockers, like this." She glided towards a marked line. "The two jammers stand behind the two teams' blockers, who can skate around the engagement zone."

         "Is this safe?" a girl, small and young-looking, asked.

          Corinne laughed. "Well. Just try to fall forward. I can't promise you won't get hurt, though, but, overall, it's a safe sport. Just because it's heavy on physical contact, it doesn't necessarily mean you're going to die playing."

          "Real classy," I replied. "Great job scaring a freshman, Corinne."

          Corinne let out a sigh so loud it made everyone shudder, then turned to face me as she skated towards the sidelines. "Why don't you give it a go, then, since you're so eager to question my ways?"

          My cheeks instantly scorched, the usual effect of someone trying to humiliate me in public in front of so many others—again. "Try me."

          "Grab a pair of skates then." She leaned back against the rails, elbows set on it, then crossed her legs. "Show us what you've got."

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here's a daily reminder that biphobia will absolutely not be tolerated. i'm not here to read things like 'this book isn't actually lgbtq+ because corinne is dating a guy' because oh boy have i been pissed off enough lately

is corinne dating a guy? yes. is she straight? absolutely not, god forbid