Ugh. I hated being left to make our own pairings, even if being placed in pairs sometimes resulted in being matched with a jerk like Gwen.

A few girls seemed to know one another, so they instantly drifted together. The rest of us became ten years old again—the new kids at school walking into the cafeteria and searching for a place to sit.

After a few hesitant head nods and shrugs, more pairs formed. I was having a hard time making eye contact with anyone, worrying no one would want to pair up with me after last time, but in a matter of moments, I realized I was the only one without a partner. One second I was horrified. The next, Kat skated over and hip-checked me, and then I was doubly horrified. “Guess we’re partners, bitch.”

As we all found a space to practice knocking each other over, I quickly assessed the situation. I wasn’t sure how Kat saw me after the last tryout—whether she was still disappointed in me. This was either an excellent opportunity to prove myself to her if I could fall like a champ and recover quickly, or it could be the beginning of the end if I wasn’t able to handle her “light shoves”—which would, without a doubt, be harder than an average light shove.

Dominique piped up, “Keep low at all times. The minute you stand up is the minute you put yourself in some serious shit. If you know you’re going down, try to go down on something padded—elbows, knees… a soft teammate.” A few more titters. “The best fall is a small fall. Tuck your limbs in, roll with it, and get your legs up as soon as you can.”

“All right, chicken nuggets, let’s do this! Go easy on each other. We don’t have insurance!” Lena bellowed.

“Lucky you,” Kat said. “You get double practice today, since I obviously don’t need it.” She winked at me. A relatively friendly wink, I thought.

“Lucky me,” I said, and tried a corresponding smirk to cover up my nervousness.

“All right, bend your knees. I’m coming at you from the side, so when you go down, try and go down into a roll and come back up again all in one motion.”

Encouraged by what seemed to be actual coaching, I crouched low and braced myself. Kat crouched as well and came at me low and slow. When her hip made contact with mine, I could tell she was only hurling maybe 50 percent of her full force at me. Even half-assed, though, her hit was enough to throw me off-balance, and I had to cross my left foot over my right and take a couple of strides on my skates to stay standing.