CHAPTER NINE | LAP OF DISHONOR

the route an expelled skater takes when heading for the locker room.

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          "So, are you excited?" Marley asked me, gently bumping her shoulder against mine. I struggled with the urge to remind her that things hadn't really worked out for the better the last time she did that. At the same time, that little stunt had landed me a spot on the roller derby team, so . . . "If I were you, I'd be jumping up and down with excitement. When I first got into the team, I called my entire family."

          "Marley's family is huge," one of the girls, Amy, explained, as though I needed more clarification. The thing I liked about Marley was that she didn't try to make me look dumb or stupid just because I was new; she kept me on a need to know basis, never overwhelming me with information or being so secretive she kept me wanting more. "Like, she has so many cousins it's—"

          "I think she gets it, Amy," Marley chimed in. Her knee pressed against mine under the table for the fleetest of moments. "Wren?"

          "I get it," I stupidly replied. The girls laughed warmly and not necessarily out of malice.

          It was easy to distinguish two moments in this group. Whenever Corinne was around, the general attitude shifted towards a pettier pole and everyone's competitiveness climbed up several notches. Whenever she wasn't, though, things actually felt like a legit team to me, without anyone trying to drag the others down.

          I mentally groaned. 

          Even when she wasn't nearby, she was still the only thing in my mind. Quite frankly, it was getting frustrating and distracting; should I really be worrying so much about her and what she thought? She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, much like I was, and I needed to give us some credit.

          Was I nervous about the first team practice? Absolutely. I was excited about it too, obviously, because how could someone not be excited about potentially breaking a bone or two, not necessarily their own? Like the kids would say, so valid, bestie. However, I was not a kid and had bigger concerns to deal with.

          My parents kindly let me know they had asked Jordan's treatment team to tell him I was skating again, probably for the first time in a long time, and that I had joined the Yale roller derby team. That was fine, if you looked past all my crippling fears of him thinking I was betraying him again, as I still hadn't forgotten the look on his face that day our parents sat us down to reveal we were moving to Connecticut whether we wanted to or not.

          I knew that look all too well. I knew the feeling even better, the way it twisted your insides and suffocated you from the inside. It came bubbling back up whenever I thought about Theo, wherever she was, whatever she was doing on the other side of the country. Jordan and I had always been more alike than either of us wanted to admit.

          Even worse than that: I'd have to be confronted really, really soon.

          Coach Fontaine had scheduled the first practice of the year for the same week as the family therapy session. Regardless of the order of the two events, I'd be distracted during both of them anyway, so it wasn't like I could easily feel any better about it. Practice came first, which meant I would have to spend the entirety of those forty-five minutes at the clinic praying he didn't hate me nearly as much as I thought he did.

          It was strange keeping these two parts of my life completely separate.

          Back in California, Theo knew all about my figure skating drama and Jordan's situation, probably a lot more than she should, and I hadn't really hesitated to talk to her the day he threw that bottle at me. Though it had had disastrous consequences for everyone involved, it was still nice to have someone in my life who knew everything, someone I could be myself around.

          In Connecticut, I had no one like that. Though Kat was the person I kind of went home to every day, she was no Theo replacement. She kind of felt like the sister I'd never had, but there was no way of comparing her to Jordan, the person I'd spent my entire life looking up to and trying to impress. I'd joined roller derby for her, at the end of the day, just like I'd joined figure skating for Jordan.

          The similarities ended there. I wasn't going to dump all my baggage on her, just like I couldn't depend on Marley for that. The two of them together, with a sprinkle of [REDACTED FRENCH-AMERICAN BLONDE ROLLER SKATER] would make Theo, but that's where I drew the line. I needed to carry myself and deal with stuff like the adult I was, even if being twenty-one freaked me out.

          "Anyway, since we're not doing much, I should get going," Marley announced. "Scoot."

          "Where are you going?" Katrina asked, as I slid out of my seat so Marley could get up. She straightened her skirt, tucked in her blouse, and fixed the sleeves of her cardigan. It was the most dolled-up I'd seen her look since the first time I met her and it seemed so far off from her usual style.

          "Coach Fontaine wanted to talk to me," she explained. Some of the girls, Corinne's inner circle, shared a concerned look with each other, which took me back to a comment Corinne had made that afternoon in my dorm room. She'd mentioned something about co-captains, something Marley herself had brought up to Corinne as well, and I'd witnessed just how pissed off Corinne was about it. "It probably shouldn't take long, so . . ."

          "Lucky you," Katrina replied, stirring her tea. She never did that; she thought sugared tea should be considered a crime against humanity. As someone who exclusively preferred black coffee, I could relate to that mindset. "Most of us just get a bunch of screamed blabbering, and she wants to talk to you."

          "Oh, shush. She's not that bad."

          I begged to differ. Respectfully, of course, as I wasn't trying to choose a side, pledge allegiance to Corinne, or get myself in trouble with our coach.

          Though I respected the woman and her passion for roller derby—it was clear she loved the sport—there were things I couldn't possibly overlook. Her treatment of Corinne, as complex and multi-faceted as it was, was only one of those things.

          Sometimes, being too passionate about something didn't work out as well as one had initially though, which Jordan was a prime example of. If I thought Corinne's love for roller derby was, frankly, amusing and theatrical, Coach Fontaine's was the kind of tough love that ruined the entire thing for everyone else. She loved the sport so much she was willing to sacrifice her own daughter's happiness and well-being for the sake of the family name and some trophies.

          I supposed I was siding with Katrina, then. Unofficially. I wasn't stupid enough to admit it out loud, not without starting a massive argument in the campus café, so I tried to fade into the background and pretend to be invisible.

          I brought my cup of coffee to my lips, deciding I had already let it cool for long enough to be acceptable, and was just about to finally start drinking when Marley turned to me.

          "Wanna tag along to keep me some company?" she asked. Half of the table shot daggers at me through their eyes, which I thought was quite an impressive feat, even though it was directed at me. "I could use some moral support and Coach likes you."

          It was then that I thanked every saint I could think of, every divine entity, for Corinne not being present. Her posse was probably plotting my death by now, a clear sign I should simply bolt out of this stupid table and this stupid team, but they already suspected I was a big enough coward as is.

          I didn't think Coach Fontaine liked me. Not exactly.

          I thought she appreciated my talent, which was an universally acknowledged objective truth. I was good, I knew I was good, and the entire team knew I was good. If there was anything in this world I could do, it was skating. She liked what I brought to the team—a new perspective, maybe, as none of the girls had any figure skating experience—and she probably took great pleasure in knowing Corinne wasn't my biggest fan. Maybe she thought I was a considerable rival to Corinne, which would make her skate harder, faster, better than she had ever skated before.

          Though part of me was amused by how easy it was to make Corinne lose her temper, I didn't want to be used as a pawn in the middle of their feud. I valued myself a lot more.

          "I think you can handle Coach," I eventually told Marley, when it felt like the silence had dragged on for too long. Her smile faltered the tiniest bit, just enough to tip me off. "What does she want?"

          "I'm not sure, actually," she replied, "so I thought it would be nice to have some company while I'm there."

          Oh. So now I was company.

          That kind of beat the uncertainty that came with being with Theo, but I was still not particularly ecstatic about it.

          "Yeah, Wren, you can go with Marley," Katrina said, leaning back. I knew I'd have to hear some not so nice words when we met up later, but that was better than arguing with her right then and there, so I reluctantly got up from my seat. Marley seemed pleased with this outcome, which was better than nothing, but something about it all still felt iffy. "See you back at the dorm? I'm sure we'll have a lot to talk about."

          "Don't be catty," I retorted, once again not knowing quite when to keep my mouth shut. Kat just flashed me a bright grin. "Why don't you go instead? We'd still have a lot to talk about later if you go and you've known Coach Fontaine for way longer than I have."

          Marley curled her fingers around my wrist, shook her head to silently ask me to oh, God, please shut up, and dragged me outside before things got worse. She was taller and stronger than me, which made it a lot harder to fight back, and I didn't dare protest. I'd felt a clear change in the atmosphere inside the café, the two groups becoming more evident than ever, and it only made me more adamant to stay neutral.

          She dropped my arm at some point, probably to not give people the wrong idea. After all, God forbid people thought we were dating; they'd call favoritism, they'd shame us. It wasn't something either of us wanted to deal with, or so I assumed. I had to constantly remind myself Marley wasn't Theo and that I knew next to nothing about her, but things were quick and easy to blur in my head.

          The walk towards the building where Coach's office was located was agonizingly quiet. I was fine with silence and despised pathetic attempts at small-talk, but I didn't want Marley to think I thought of her as a villain, or anything remotely similar. I still thought she was cool, probably one of the coolest people I'd met in Connecticut so far—it might have had something to do with her being a California native, but I wasn't that biased—but I simply didn't have the emotional availability to partake in yet another feud.

          The receptionist told us to wait, along with the others. I didn't expect Coach Fontaine to be popular enough to have regular visitors and was proven right when we turned the hallway and entered the waiting room.

          Drew was sitting on one of the beige armchairs, flipping through last month's edition of Vanity Fair. He was so stupidly tall, with legs so stupidly long he struggled to fit in such a small chair, and I almost laughed at the sight, but then remembered two important things. First: Marley was still pissed. Second: if Drew was here, then that surely meant Corinne was around.

          "Oh, hey, Marl," he greeted, once he noticed our presence, throwing her a lopsided smile. It was only then that I remembered the great majority of our contact with each other had been through text messages on Drunk Corinne's phone and that we had never been properly introduced, even though he hung out with the team regularly. "Wren, right?" He reached out a hand towards a quite surprised me and I accepted the handshake. "It's nice to meet you. I'm—"

          "—Drew. Yeah. I know. We've talked."

          He gave me a polite nod, then looked up at Marley. "Cor's inside. Coach Fontaine told me to tell you to go in as soon as you got here, but that was, like . . ."—he checked the watch on his wrist—"ten minutes ago, so maybe you should hurry. You know how she gets whenever someone is late to something."

          Marley grimaced, then rushed towards one of the rooms at the end of the hallway, closing the door behind her. With a tiny sigh, one I hoped was inconspicuous enough to not alert Drew, I sat down. I hadn't brought anything along with me, not even a book, and it would be humiliating to reach out for one of the crappy magazines Drew was reading.

          To my relief, he eventually tossed Vanity Fair aside. I'd already read that edition, as Kat kept a stash of magazines in our room, so I made no move towards it, but then he pulled out a book from his backpack. It was worn out on the spine and annotated with small neon sticky notes, a decision Kat would have made, and I was overcome with a sudden wave of affection towards him.

          "So, what are you reading?" I questioned.

          Drew looked up, with those baby-blue eyes that seemed to see right through people, and held up the book. "Emma. It's for the book club."

          "You're in a book club?"

          He wrinkled his nose. "I know how it looks. The jock weaseled his way into the book club just to spend more time with his girlfriend. It's actually kind of fun. I'm an English major," he clarified, "so it's been extra helpful. Corinne let me borrow her copy. She even annotated it for me."

          I didn't know what shocked me the most about what he had just said—Drew Sterling joining a book club and reading Jane Austen, or Corinne Fontaine herself being part of the same club. Her life seemed to revolve exclusively around roller derby; it felt so odd to imagine her having time for anything else.

          The impulsive part of me wanted to ask him if he remembered our conversation from the night of my birthday. Even if he didn't, he still knew my name, probably from all the drama that had gone down during tryouts, or maybe through Corinne, but I didn't want to know the answer. I didn't want to know what she had told him about me, and I didn't want to think about what they did in private.

          My face grew hot. Was it just me or had someone turned up the heating system?

          ". . . expect you to work well together," Coach Fontaine warned, as the door swung open. Marley was radiant, smug with self-directed pride, while Corinne looked downright murderous. For a split second, I was secretly glad all that fury wasn't directed at me for once. "You're a grown adult, Corinne, get over it. It's a team sport." She finally noticed I was there, in spite of my best efforts to not be noticed by Medusa herself. "Ah, Wren. Hello. Since you're here"—she placed a hand on Marley's shoulder and the other on Corinne's, but only the former didn't shrug it away—"let me formally introduce you to the team's official co-captains."

          Corinne stepped away from her. "Please let me know when you finally decide to stop ruining my life. I don't need a co-captain. The team doesn't need a co-captain. It just sounds like you want to piss me off—"

          Drew stood up. "Cor, let's go."

          She huffed, yanking her jacket and bag from his hands. Marley stared down at her feet, shoulders drooping, and I stayed glued to my chair. Anything I said or did would only make things worse for everyone in the room.

          Corinne didn't glance twice at me. Drew shot me an apologetic look on their way out, but neither of them looked back.