“Right, so imagine a sprint, in a circle,” she says, holding out one hand. She holds out the other hand. “And the brutality of American football and then . . .” She smushes her two hands together.

She looks expectantly from me to Lipstick Girl, waiting for us to exclaim with joy that this is the activities mash-up we’d been waiting for our whole lives.

“Is your ankle broken?” Lipstick Girl peers uncertainly over the table and I see it then too, Roller Derby Girl’s foot in one of those space boots.

“Please,” she scoffs, “that’s nothing. A few pins. I fell funny on the track, but I still finished two more jams on that foot. I’ll be back on eight wheels in no time.”

“Oh my God! Betty,” Lipstick Girl says suddenly, gripping my arm, “we’re late for class,” and she pulls me away from the booth. I wave a conciliatory goodbye to Roller Derby Girl, who narrows her eyes, and I think I see her mouth form the word wuss to herself before she pounces on her next victim.

Around the corner at the Pirate Society, free from the disgust of Roller Derby Girl, we pause to pick up a free Jolly Roger temporary tattoo. It makes me think of Ruby, and I pocket one to send her in the post.

“Should we stay in touch? Instagram or something?” I asked over continental breakfast and secret smiles in our hotel room the morning after the wedding.

Ruby picked at a pastry, flaky bits collecting on her plate though she wasn’t really eating any of it. She toyed with her lip ring and flipped her hair over, making my heart hurt a little.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t want to scour your pictures and comments for clues or wonder every time you add some girl if she’s your new girlfriend. If I can do that, how am I supposed to move on?”

“We could still text?” I said hopefully, but even as it came out of my mouth I knew that was a bad idea too. It would start off with a daily flow of messages back and forth. Then fewer and fewer until one day they stopped coming. It would be like trying to peel off a Band-Aid millimeter by millimeter so it hurt less. It doesn’t really work that way. So I understood when she shook her head.

“We could write letters like ye olden days,” I joked, though my laugh was forced.

Ruby didn’t say anything for a second. Then she nodded, eyes bright.

“Really?” I said, surprised.