Fee and Cai had brought the damn pom-poms again. Like some kind of nightmare, Priam and Vicki had also brought pom-poms, except they had augmented their pom-poms with actual cheerleading costumes from some musical they’d been in at one point. Fee had brought Dotty, who was wearing an oversize Killa Honeys T-shirt. Across the arena in their usual spot, Bee and Yolanda were shouting obscenities at the Hair Force Babes, who were our competition tonight. Even Joe and Alma were here as special guest commentators.

Shanti was watching from the bench, next to Lena, who was still on crutches but as lively as ever, coaching the shit out of everyone. Kat was storming around the track, game face ready, as usual.

And I was about to start my second-ever roller derby bout against a team who’d probably seen my last bout and was going to make sure to pay special attention to me.

And also, there seemed to be a billion people in the stands. And my shirt still said DAYA DOO WOP on it. I didn’t have the heart to switch it after Priam saw it.

Was I nervous?

You could say that.

“There’s that Daya Doo Wop again, meddling with the Hair Force Babes’ jammer! How does a brick wall like that move so fast?”

“What’s Mz. Biz doing over there on the Honeys bench, Joe? It looks like she’s poking the referee in the bum with her crutches. I’m not sure that constitutes a penalty, but the crowd seems to be enjoying it!”

“The Honeys’ wild-eyed jammer Killa Skillz finds a hole, thanks to her blockers Daya Doo Wop and Charlotte the Harlot! She’s zooming around the track like lightning. The Honeys are in the lead!”

“Potty Mouth takes out a whole group of her own teammates! They’re sure fulla surprises, aren’t they, Alma?”

“Ooh! Daya Doo Wop is pushed out of bounds into a group of very happy fans. That was a hard hit by the Babes’ blocker Split Endz. Could be trouble, Alma… but… Daya just brushes herself off and—ha!—blows a kiss to her fans!”

“Well, shit, rook—you may have redeemed yourself!” Lena shouted at me over the girl she was wrestling for some inexplicable reason by our bench.

I wasn’t sure I’d completely redeemed myself—some of the Skintastics were still giving me the stink-eye as they took to the track after our bout was done. I’d have to swallow my pride and apologize to them at some point—especially the girl I’d slammed to the ground. I promised myself to do that by the end of the night.