“Homewooooorrrrk!” Potts whined, and collapsed onto their back. “Whyyyyyyy!” The team collectively tittered and threw sweaty towels and clothing at them.

“Don’t fret, snickerdoodles!” Lena piped up. “The Honeys aren’t just all business, as our fresh meat knows all too well”—she paused so the team could give the four of us a round of applause, presumably for our disco performance the other night—“and there’s plenty more party in the plan!”

“That’s right,” Kat continued. “We’re mixing business and pleasure again this weekend for the first of our regular season fundraisers. If you’re not free Saturday night, get free fast—you won’t wanna miss this. Bring some friends, too.”

I hadn’t really seen Kat the rest of the night at the roller disco. She’d basically disappeared after our rookie debut. Someone said she’d left with some dude. Today at practice, though, she’d been all business, and a complete hard-ass. She, Dom, and Lena acted as dual skaters and coaches, but she was definitely the one in charge.

I could’ve just been making it up, but it felt like she was being especially hard on me. Even though I was already working my ass off, her only words to me the entire practice were some version of “You can do better than that, Daya!”

Shanti, on the other hand, had surprised the hell out of me by giving me a hug when we saw each other in the parking lot before practice. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she seemed pretty casual about the whole thing, so I tried to just take it in stride, despite the fact that Kat was giving us the stink-eye the entire time.

As I was putting away my gear, Shanti came up to give me a stack of flyers. “Here—spread these around so we make lots of money this weekend. You’re coming, right?”

I looked at the papers she’d handed me, a part of me exasperated by the prospect of yet another off-track social gathering. HONEYBEE HIVE. SWEETEN UP YOUR NIGHT AND SUPPORT THE KILLA HONEYS ROLLER DERBY TEAM. In the middle of the page was the fierce bee in roller skates that was on the pin Shanti had sold me. Below that was the address and time.

“Did you make these?” I remembered her saying it was one of her jobs as manager.

“Yeah. Like ’em?”

“Yeah—this bee is so aggressive. My kind of insect.” I glanced up at her to see if I’d made her smile. I had. Don’t get carried away, weirdo. “Where’s this address?”

“It’s actually our place. It’s too expensive to rent a venue, so we just hold our fundraisers there. It’s a big-ass house and four of the Honeys live there, including me. So it makes sense.”