CHAPTER TEN | IMPACT

a foul has an impact on safety or game play when a measurable physical force or effect can be observed.

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          "I mean, I'm not surprised that she took it, since Marley has always wanted to be captain and Coach Fontaine's nepotism would never let that happen, but she knows what the team means to Corinne," Katrina said, later that day, as we hung out in our dorm room. She'd been too busy working on her Music in the Great Depression paper to pay any attention to me, up until the moment I told her I had some gossip about Marley's meeting with Coach. Was it the best idea to treat what had happened as mere gossip? Probably not. "Corinne has always been the team captain. She'll do whatever it takes to win, even if she has to be demoted to co-captain, but I don't imagine she took this too well."

          I sighed, throwing my stress ball against the wall. I supposed I could have gotten a squishy one, but sometimes a girl needed to throw a thing or two against a wall.

          Never at a person. Never a bottle.

          "Is it necessarily a demotion, though?" I questioned. "She's keeping her position. She'll just be sharing it with someone else."

          "Well, it is a demotion for Corinne." Kat spun around on her chair, legs crossed. "It's complicated. It's not really up to me to explain it and reveal every private detail of Corinne's life, but . . ." Luckily for her, I already knew what I considered to be a big part of it; what I knew was somewhat enough to give me some insight on how Corinne was feeling. "It's not just a team. It's not just about being a captain. It's what she has been training for her whole life and she's been leading the team since freshman year, you know? No one ever considered the possibility of there ever being a co-captain while she's still here because . . . because it just doesn't make sense. It's Corinne's spot."

          "Coach is . . . intense."

          Kat laughed. "That's one way to put it. Coach takes roller derby as seriously as a religion." She reached out for a buttery popcorn from the neon pink bowl next to her. My stomach grumbled, echoing in the room, and she kindly slid it towards me. It melted in my mouth, warm and oozy. "It's kind of why Corinne is the way that she is, but I can't judge her for feeling hurt. That's her mom, y'know? Her mom, who knows how much she loves roller derby and the team, is indirectly telling her she doesn't think she's got what it takes anymore." She popped another popcorn in her mouth. "You don't expect that kind of betrayal from your own mom."

          I kind of understood where Corinne was coming from. I hated relating to her with a burning passion, I did, but I also found myself strangely rooting for her.

          If I was the one being demoted to co-captain instead, I would be pissed, obviously, but never to this extent—never to the extent of having people worry about me and the state of my mental health. Corinne's desire and need to succeed felt almost pathological, something so intensely connected to her identity and sense of self that I couldn't help but admit she was being wronged. Her mother knew the effect it would have on her, which is why it felt like punishment, even more than simply kicking her out of the team.

          It was a true middle finger.

          You get to stay on the team, but I'm watching your every move, and you're not getting any of the freedom you used to have. Look at how I treat someone else the way I should be treating you—I'm even giving them your spot on the team!

          "Was Marley happy about it?" Katrina asked, after a while.

          I didn't know these girls very well and I wasn't in the mood to be making enemies, which was what I feared would happen if I threw Marley under the bus. However, even if I kept my mouth shut, lied, or concealed the truth, Kat would still figure it out eventually; if I lied, the consequences would be even worse. I didn't want to risk my friendship with her, the one person who I felt like I was growing closer to.

          Getting close to people was always dangerous. You never knew if and when things would change, and nothing could ever prepare you for the fall out.

          So, I replied, "Yes. Yeah, she was really happy." Kat dramatically rolled her eyes. "Like you said, she had always wanted to be captain. I don't think she'd want to overthrow Corinne, though, so this was a good compromise. Maybe. No?"

          "Eh." She grabbed the bowl of popcorn, nestling it close to her chest, then threw herself to an empty spot on my bed. She did this like she had been doing it for years, like she expected me to come here long before I knew I was leaving California, and we were slowly falling into a comfortable routine. In a way, she almost felt like the little sister I'd never had. "Don't get me wrong, I adore Marley and think she's super chill, even with all the . . . sneaking around you two do." I scoffed, feigning being offended. "I just think she should have been mindful of Corinne's feelings. College roller derby ends at some point, but friendships are supposed to last longer than that."

          Following that reasoning, Corinne shouldn't end a three-year friendship with Marley over co-captaincy of the team, but I knew things weren't that simple. Corinne and her grudges certainly gave mine a run for our money.

          "Would you have accepted the position?" I asked, looking up at her.

          "No." She sounded sincere enough. "Right now, no. Next year, maybe, since Cor would have graduated by then." Kat pulled her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "It just wouldn't feel right."

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          The first practice had everything to be a complete disaster.

           Word had quickly spread about Marley (and Corinne)'s new role, so it came off as no surprise to the team when Coach Fontaine announced the changes that afternoon. Marley was still ecstatic about it, radiating light and warmth, whereas Corinne was in a terrible mood. Though she wasn't screaming at people or making passive-aggressive comments, she hadn't opened her mouth. In my book, that was concerning.

          "I expect everyone to be mature and respectful about this," Coach said, not even bothering to pretend like she wasn't glancing at Corinne from the corner of her eye. Corinne's jaw twitched. "This is still a team, after all, and, if you're not going to be a team player, let me know so I can bench you for the rest of the season. That's the kind of negativity I don't need here."

          To my utter shock and disbelief, Katrina was the one who scoffed under her breath, low enough so she wouldn't be heard by anyone but me. I hadn't ever doubted her loyalty to Corinne, but she was proudly announcing it now.

          Truth be told, I respected that. She stuck to her convictions; what was there not to like and admire about that?

          "She's the one being super immature," Katrina whispered to me, arms firmly crossed in front of her chest. "She's just doing this out of spite after what happened at tryouts. Newsflash: if Corinne hadn't riled you up, you wouldn't have tried out for the team and Coach wouldn't have anyone to fawn over. What?" She finally noticed the look of disbelief on my face. I knew Corinne had tried to provoke me, just to get a reaction out of me, but assuming she had ulterior motives and wanted me to join the team was a bit of a stretch. I saw how annoyed she got whenever someone mentioned my figure skating background and she had told me straight to my face it was an inferior sport when compared to the brutality of roller derby. "It's true. You know it is. Corinne knows you're good, even if she won't admit it out loud."

          "I never meant to be used," I pointed out. "It honestly just feels like I'm a pawn being tossed aside in the middle of their feud. Coach couldn't stop complimenting me that day and she knew Corinne was listening."

          "Yeah, well." Kat sighed, shaking her head. Her hair smelled like cherries. "I don't agree with that, either, so I can't blame you for being uncomfortable. It sucks for everyone involved."

          Against my better judgment, I found myself wondering when Corinne had last heard a sincere compliment coming from her mother. I didn't want to think about the answer, as it would probably make things a lot more depressing than they already were.

          Corinne significantly perked up when Coach stepped aside, letting her and Marley be in charge of warming up the team, and I was somewhat disappointed to hear we wouldn't be putting on our skates just yet. There were muscles we needed to prep first, running laps and stretching, but I had come here to skate.

          (Being pushed aside by girls a lot stronger than me? Probably not so much.)

          I stuck with Katrina during warm ups. Part of me was somewhat scared she'd snap at someone and get suspended from the team—or even worse—so I took it upon myself to watch over her like the fresh meat I was. It shocked me to realize just how out of shape I was, having never been much of a runner, and I eventually decided cardio just wasn't my thing. It made Kat laugh, even if at my expense, so I had done something right, at least.

          "Please don't die," she asked me, trying to stop herself from laughing out loud. Coach Fontaine had the sight and audition of an eagle and God forbid she found someone having fun during practice. It was still a competitive sport, after all, and we couldn't afford to get distracted or mess up. Distractions would lead to injuries, and injuries meant we'd be down some players. "You can't even run three laps."

          "Can you?"

          She placed her hands on her hips, defiantly. "Obviously."

          "How do you know I wasn't slowing down just to let you keep up with me?"

          "Please! You're light years away from me." She grabbed a water bottle then tossed it towards me. "Drink up. It's only about to get worse." She looked over my shoulder, probably to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "If you want some warm advice, try to make a habit out of going for a run every morning. Fifteen, twenty minutes, or so. It will help you with your stamina. It's not great at the moment. I'm not complaining and it's honestly fun to mess with you"—I scowled—"but if either Coach or Corinne ever suspect you're not fully pulling your own weight . . ."

          She went for runs every morning, while I was still peacefully asleep. I admired her determination, but I valued having a decent quality of sleep a little bit too much to follow in her footsteps. Though, if my future in this team depended on it, I supposed I could give it a go.

          After all the running and the stretching, I almost breathed a sigh of relief when we were allowed to gear up. I had yet to buy my own equipment, having been too busy stressing out over Jordan and his treatment, so I had to wear worn padding and skates. I missed the feeling of wearing brand new skates, still so squeaky clean, so I made a mental note to drag Kat along whenever I felt like going shopping. She'd love it, and it would be some quality time we'd get to spend together.

          My helmet still had no permanent stickers, as it was just the beginning of the season and we weren't sure which position was the best for me.

          I struggled with being a blocker, lacking the height and general strength to properly hold jammers back. Most blockers on the team were twice my size and even those considered short could arm wrestle me to the ground. Therefore, I was leaning towards the jammer role, but that was mostly Marley's. It felt weird to waltz into an established team, on the one year I'd be spending in Connecticut, and demand a role to be handed to me on a silver platter.

          "I know some of you have gotten used to your positions, but this is a new season," Coach began, speaking with the use of a megaphone so she wouldn't have to skate back into the circuit track. "This means you might not get the same position you got last year. I'll also be looking forward to switching up the roster quite frequently to dodge expectations. Don't get used to having a permanent position."

          "I'll stay as a pivot, regardless," Corinne added. "I'll rotate between pivot and blocker, as always, but you won't see me jam."

          "Right. If you're new to the team, you won't have to worry. We'll work on finding the position that best suits you, but that doesn't mean you don't need to learn how to play other positions. Rotation. Blockers, be prepared to be moved up front whenever."

          That was the story of how I rotated between jammer and blocker, just like I had done during tryouts.

          I wasn't going in blind this time, which made things easier. I knew what to expect from the blockers when I played jammer, as most of them had been the ones who tried to block me during tryouts, and their movements were easy to predict. I knew what to dodge and when, and how to slide past them, racing the other jammer around the track.

          Life as a blocker was slightly trickier, a position I didn't feel as comfortable in, but Coach was being pretty adamant on us getting acquainted with each one. Katrina raced against me quite often, even blocking me once or twice, and I didn't know why I ever expected her to give me an easy time. If anything, it felt like she tried extra hard to not let me win; if I thought the old blockers were predictable, she thought the exact same thing about me.

          "At least make an effort, Wren," Corinne told me, after one of those incidents. Her hair was falling from her ponytail, thanks to the considerable effort she had put into attempting to block the opposing team's jammer, but I hadn't done her any favors. I was out of breath now, watching the track spin around me, and I was off my game. I was distracted, something that didn't go by unnoticed. "I know we're just practicing and this is your first time playing derby, but you need to push harder. Don't be afraid to hurt the blockers. Knock them aside if you have to. They're wearing pads."

          "Wouldn't that be against the rules during an actual match?" I questioned.

          "This isn't an actual match." She fixed her elbow pads. "Please focus."

          She skated away. I took a deep breath, reminding myself she was under a lot more pressure than I was, and decided to ignore her during the remainder of practice.

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          I had five missed calls from my mother by the time practice ended.

          I had just gotten out of the shower, stomach grumbling, and was daydreaming about what I'd have for dinner when I checked my phone. It certainly wasn't a good sign. My heart was racing as I rushed to call her back, unable to not think about the worst possible scenario: something had happened to her, to Dad, to Jordan, to Theo.

          "Mom?"

          "Wren, where are you?" she asked. She was slightly angry—not sad, not desperate. I thought it was safe to assume no one had died, but was I really willing to take any chances? Were we out of the woods? "I've been trying to reach you for over an hour now."

          "I had roller derby practice," I explained. The sun was setting now, coating the campus in warm tones, and it almost looked inviting if it weren't for the cold breeze. After a shower, it wasn't a good idea to be standing outside in the cold. "I couldn't leave just to answer my phone. What's wrong? Did something happen to Jordan?"

          "Today's family therapy day. I told you. Did you forget?"

          I hadn't. I'd spent the entire week torturing myself over it; how could she accuse me of such a thing?

          "No, but—"

          "And you decided to go to practice instead of coming to the clinic to see your brother. We told you this was important, Wren, and we need to be there, all of us, if we want to see this treatment work. Your brother's life is on the line here." I exhaled through my mouth. Guilt was a sick bastard, creeping up on you when you least expected it. "The session starts in forty minutes exactly. Make sure to get here ahead of time."

          "Mom, I don't have a car. I don't know the public transportation routes around here." Because no one let me know we were moving here in time for me to educate myself on that, I mentally added. Saying it out loud would only piss her off even more.

          "Call an Uber or a Lyft or whatever you kids do these days. But be here. I mean it."

          "I—"

          She hung up on me before I could complete my sentence.

          I fell to a bench, defeated, and pressed the heels of my hands against my forehead, exhaling through my mouth. It was pathetic to give her that much power over me and I was wasting precious time sitting here, feeling sorry for myself, but I didn't know how to get to the clinic. I didn't even know where it was.

          "You okay?"

          My head jerked up at the sound of Corinne's voice. She stood in front of me, carrying her gym bag, and I didn't even find the energy to be mean to her. I huffed, wiping a stubborn tear from the corner of my eye, and nodded.

          She sighed.

          "So, what's going on? I heard you on the phone."

          "It's none of your business," I retorted, harsher than I meant. I didn't want to explain Jordan's situation to these people, knowing they'd instantly feel bad for me when they should be worrying about him. It was his mind, his liver, his body that were being destroyed. Not mine. "I just need to be somewhere in forty minutes, urgently, and I have no way of getting there. I don't know the bus routes or even the address."

          "I can give you a ride, if you'd like."

          "And why would you do that?"

          "I'm not heartless, Wren. I can tell you're upset." Her lips twitched ever so slightly. "I think you know I know what it's like to not want to disappoint your mother."

          I was suddenly overcome with a strong desire to hug her. I wasn't stupid, though, and kept those thoughts to myself instead of acting on them. God knows what people would think; God knows what she would think.

          Reluctantly, I got up. "I need to drop off my bag and change clothes. I don't think my parents will appreciate me showing up like this."

          "That's fine. I'll probably do the same thing and get my helmets." She checked the time on her watch. "Google the address in the meantime and meet me in the parking lot, okay? It'll be fine. As long as we don't get stuck in traffic and your . . . thing isn't by the borders, I'll get you there on time." When I didn't answer, too overwhelmed by her uncharacteristic kindness, she looked up at me with those stupid brown eyes of hers and something shot straight through my heart. "You don't have to explain anything to me and I won't ask questions."

          "This means nothing."

          "And why in the world would it mean anything?" She winked. "Hurry up."