Kat took my hand in an extremely firm grip, her eyes meeting mine. She had her wrist guards on, and I felt like I was shaking hands with a cyborg. “Oh yeah? Hey, Daya. Kat Chen. But out here I’m Killa Skillz.” Up close like this, I could see how flawless her makeup was, even under the shine of sweat. She had the same near-black hair as Shanti, judging by the roots showing beneath her green hair dye, but her skin was a bit lighter. Her tattoos were, in fact, dragons and fire and seemed to pulse among the many bruises scattered across her arms. The sight sent a shiver across the back of my neck.

It was like meeting an action-movie star, and I kind of wished I had something for Kat to sign, even though I never usually went in for that sort of thing. But something about her made me starstruck.

The beginnings of a smirk on her face suggested she could sense this. “So you skate?” she asked, after our hands parted and she’d placed them on her hips.

“Uh, yeah—well, I can skate. And I skateboard,” I offered. “But this”—I gestured to the track—“looks unreal.”

“Oh, it’s very real. Trust me. This real.” Kat swung her hips around and pointed to a spot just below her right butt cheek, where a gigantic bruise splashed across her skin, almost engulfing her entire hamstring.

My brain swirled. Whoa. “That’s a beauty,” I said, my heart beating a little faster.

“Gotta be prepared for a little bruisin’ if you’re gonna skate, kid,” Yolanda inserted, appearing suddenly at my side like some kind of sketchy butler.

“Oh, I have no issues with that. Don’t worry.” I said this directly to Kat to make sure she knew I meant it.

Just as I was going to ask about trying out, Dickface from before stumbled into me, plastered. He must’ve been drowning his pathetic sorrows in the beer garden after getting shunned from the stands.

“Heyyyyyy—you’re that chick from before…,” he started.

My neck and shoulders instantly tensed. “And you’re the asshole who was harassing my friend.” My eyes iced over.

He got all up in my face, blowing his yeasty beer breath at me. “What’d you call me, bitch?”

I didn’t move an inch, even though I could see every pore on his face. “You heard me. Why don’t you—”

“Pal—I’m gonna sign your forehead and then you’re gonna take off, all right?” Kat had stepped up beside us, Sharpie wielded like she was going to stab something.