Relieved that the weird moment had passed, I let my face convey my skepticism. Fee noticed and continued, “For instance, your balance is excellent, you’ve got great endurance, and I have no doubt your teammates will be able to trust you to give it your all.”

I rolled my eyes. “ ’Kay, yeah, whatever, but my real strength is strength, and I can’t wait to show Kat and the Honeys that. So now help me work on skating with contact.”

“You mean you want me to smash you around for a bit while you skate?”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” They paused. “But only if you wear your gear.”

“What gear?”

“You got elbow pads and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re at home.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause I never skate with padding. I’ll wear it when I need to.”

“You need to now, Daya. Roller derby’s a whole new bag of bruises… and more. There’s being tough and then there’s being foolish. You’re not foolish.” That steady, somber look was back. “Go get your stuff.” They crossed their arms.

I crossed my arms too and held Fee’s eyes, ready to win a staring match. But what I saw in their eyes was concern and a plea, and the look put me off-balance. I wasn’t used to Fee getting serious with me.

“Daya, roller derby could be really awesome for you, but maybe not just because of the hits, you know? Now go.”

Jesus. So pushy. Fee was lucky I needed their help on this so badly. “Okay, fine,” I said. “Gimme twenty minutes.”

By the end of the weekend, I was starting to feel a bit better about my skating skills, but I still wasn’t sure how I’d measure up against the other people trying out. Fee had shown me lots of basics and helped me practice staying strong against contact, but I needed to be extra good if I couldn’t depend entirely on my hitting skills.

All weekend, I spent hours watching skating videos on YouTube instead of doing my homework, paying close attention to how the skaters moved side to side and almost step-shuffled across the track instead of just skating, or how they transitioned from one direction to another.

I also went to the skate park in the morning when no one was there, so I could practice everything I’d seen. On Sunday I went for a superlong skate—up some hills for endurance, along the Seawall to dodge Rollerbladers and dog walkers, and backward around and around the cement track at my high school.

By the time I got home around dinnertime, my legs were jelly. I’d taken more than a few nosedives and tumbles, and after my shower, I took stock of the day’s war wounds.