Alma’s eyes brightened. “My dear! That is exciting. There still aren’t enough chocolate girls like us gracing the track.”

Bee cut in, making her way over to the wall. “That’s right! Alma was one of the first and finest cups o’ hot chocolate you eva saw! Look, there she is, right there—look at all that chalky skin around ’er.” She pointed to a photo on the wall of a team dressed in disco-inspired uniforms—miniskirts, glitter tops, bell-bottoms. Every single person in the photo was white, save Alma, who was as curvy as now, with tight braids beneath her helmet and a gleaming smile.

“Those are the Disco Cheat-as,” Alma explained, letting loose my hand and gazing into the photo. “Joe and I started that team together in 1978, not too long after we met.”

“Shortly after we met and fell head over wheels in love, that is!” Joe gushed. I noticed he used the same joke Bee had used and wondered if it’d been the running joke of yesteryear. All four of them certainly found it funny enough to giggle over. Well, Yolanda’s lips just kind of twitched. So I didn’t offend any of them, I let out a small laugh.

Alma threaded her arm through Joe’s and leaned in so he could give her a quick peck on the cheek. “That’s right. Joe and I met at a roller disco, you see—”

“Alma was a champ, Daya! A real champ! You’ve never seen anything like it—Alma gliding across the roller rink, smooth as butter, quick like lightning, feet skipping, whirling, jiving, jumping! Nothing like it! I fell in love with the way she moved before anything else! And then I discovered every other miraculous thing about her and fell in love with those, too!”

Patting him on the arm—I wasn’t sure if it was a thankful pat or a Now, now, dear. That’s enough pat—Alma continued, “I have really loved my roller life, that’s for sure.” Her eyes focused on me. “Disco and roller derby—both have made me feel so… full. Like I’m part of the crowd, my teammates, the music and lights. It’s pure joy. You understand?”

The way she looked directly into my eyes when she spoke felt too intimate—like she was sharing something she’d only share with friends. Her comments reminded me of what Fee had said about the energy they felt while playing hockey, too. It all seemed so different from what I felt when I was skateboarding. Maybe you just had to be a certain kind of person to experience it. But something about what Alma was saying felt appealing, even as it felt impossible.

I ignored her question (because I didn’t at all understand) and broke our eye contact to search the photos. “Are there any other photos of you from those days?” I asked.

Joe, Alma, Bee, and Yolanda all leaned into the bulletin board at the same time, then pointed at the same photo.