A possible cure for my teamwork deficiencies fell out of my pocket while I was throwing my dirty clothes into the washer Monday night after the tryout and Alma and Joe’s card fluttered to the floor. I needed help again, and this time, no amount of equipment or skating practice or hitting was going to do it. I needed someone to show me how to play on a roller derby team.

The next day after school, I found myself at their open garage door.

“Beautiful!” I heard from inside the garage. “Stupendous!”

When I peeked around the corner, I saw Joe kneeling in front of a hulking dude with bright purple roller skates strapped to his feet. The guy was giggling, and the two of them high-fived with passion.

“Daya, what a delight!” I turned to find Alma walking toward me from the house.

“Hi, Alma.” I’d called them in the morning to see if they were open that day and had time to chat. I hadn’t told them that what I really needed was some kind of magical way onto the Killa Honeys. Joe, of course, had replied with several exclamatory statements.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” Alma asked. She still wore a tracksuit, except this time it was a vibrant green. The same glossy pink shone across her lips and fingernails.

“I’m well, thank you. How are you?” Something about Alma made me want to speak in grammatically correct English.

“Oh, I’m plump and perfect, as always.” She chuckled. “So when are the big tryouts?”

Just the word “tryouts” sent my stomach plunging. “They’re happening. Now. The second one is tomorrow.”

“Wonderful!”

Yeah. Super.

She tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow and guided me inside the garage. “Look who it is, Joe!”

Joe looked up from his debit machine, where he was processing the gigantic dude’s purchases. “Daya! Welcome back, superstar!”

After Joe had taken care of his customer and it was just the three of us, Alma asked, “So, Daya, how can we help?”

I need to know how to impress the hell out of Kat. I need to bash the hell out of a bunch of tough-ass chicks. I need to prove I’m hard as hell and indispensable. Oh, and I also need to convince everyone that I’m not a hopeless teammate.

“Uh—I—”

I had no idea how to do this. Asking for skates and padding was one thing. Asking for a way to play well with others was something else. An admission. A confession that I had no idea how to be with other people. I had to swallow back a pang in my chest to speak.

“I’m… new to team sports.”

“Oh, you’ve never played on a team, dear?” Alma asked.

“No. And roller derby looks so different from anything I’ve played before.”

“That’s true, madam!” Joe exclaimed. “It surely is a special sport!”