scowling. I couldn’t believe she’d write me off like that. Especially after I’d just gone to her rescue without even a thank-you. “I’m not joking. I can pass any skills test you throw at me. My sister was a Hotsie. I used to train with them all the time.”
“How nice for your sister.” Her eyes flicked up to my head. “But the answer’s still no.”
“So you’re turning me down because I’m
bald
?” I demanded. This wasn’t happening; she had to let me in. “That’s not fair—”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if she just tried out, right, Ruthanasia?”Darcy bleated nervously. “If she’s no good, she won’t get in. She’ll sign the release form. Won’t you, Casey?”
“Sure.”
“Look, it has nothing to do with your head,” Ruthanasia said haughtily. “Although I like the swirls. But you missed training camp. No camp, no spot on the team.”
I took a deep breath. Obviously, I’d pissed her off; maybe she hadn’t liked my seeing her so vulnerable in the parking lot, so she was trying to reestablish dominance. Antagonizing her further was only going to make matters worse, so I swallowed the angry retort I wanted to say and went for logic instead. But even though I did my best, it might have come out a little snippier than I’d intended. “The point of training is to teach me the skills. I respect that. But I’ve gone through skills camp before. With the Hotsies.”
“Whatever,” she said. “When we break you, don’t come crying to me.”
All my self-control went out the window. I could handle the witchy attitude, but calling me a baby? Writing me off as a wimp? Maybe I should have let her get pummeled after all. “Thanks. But you can drop the attitude. We can tell you’re a badass from the way you’re dressed.”
“Really?” Ruthanasia glared at me. “Then maybe you shouldn’t piss me off.”
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” I leaned against the registration table in a blatant display of casual disregard. “I’m a badass too. I just don’t feel the need to shove it down people’s throats two seconds after they walk through the door.”
“We’ll just go fill out that paperwork now,” Darcy interjected, looking fearfully between the two of us. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Whatever.” Ruthanasia shot me an intense frown. I felt this urge to push things a little further just to see what would happen, but I shut my mouth instead. I needed to make this team, and taking the bait wasn’t going to make it happen; I shouldn’t have let her get to me in the first place. I knew I couldn’t put all the blame for that argument on her, but recognizing that there was a chip on my shoulder didn’t make it go away.
The rink was brightly lit, with a small snack bar off in one corner, newish tile, and about ten disco balls hung at what seemed like random spots around the ceiling. I found an empty bench near the locker room and tried to distract myself with all the paperwork. About ten minutes’ and five pages’ worth of monotony later, Darcy and I were lacing up our skates and strapping on pads. I tried to get all the water out of my socks, but it still felt like my feet were encased in moldy sponges. I’d just have to ignore it.
Darcy led the way across the worn carpet to the rink entrance. A few other girls were already out there, whizzing around in circles with long, graceful strides. There were only a couple of wall huggers; it looked like the competition would be pretty fierce. Good.
The smooth hardwood glided under my feet, and I instinctively sank slightly to maintain my balance and build upspeed. My legs wobbled a bit and then locked in underneath me, and I rocketed past a gaggle of girls, who stared at my marker-scribbled head and whispered among themselves. I strapped on my helmet and pretended not to have noticed.
It felt good to spin around the track under the glare of the fluorescent overheads. The movement warmed up my frozen limbs and made the
“How nice for your sister.” Her eyes flicked up to my head. “But the answer’s still no.”
“So you’re turning me down because I’m
bald
?” I demanded. This wasn’t happening; she had to let me in. “That’s not fair—”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if she just tried out, right, Ruthanasia?”Darcy bleated nervously. “If she’s no good, she won’t get in. She’ll sign the release form. Won’t you, Casey?”
“Sure.”
“Look, it has nothing to do with your head,” Ruthanasia said haughtily. “Although I like the swirls. But you missed training camp. No camp, no spot on the team.”
I took a deep breath. Obviously, I’d pissed her off; maybe she hadn’t liked my seeing her so vulnerable in the parking lot, so she was trying to reestablish dominance. Antagonizing her further was only going to make matters worse, so I swallowed the angry retort I wanted to say and went for logic instead. But even though I did my best, it might have come out a little snippier than I’d intended. “The point of training is to teach me the skills. I respect that. But I’ve gone through skills camp before. With the Hotsies.”
“Whatever,” she said. “When we break you, don’t come crying to me.”
All my self-control went out the window. I could handle the witchy attitude, but calling me a baby? Writing me off as a wimp? Maybe I should have let her get pummeled after all. “Thanks. But you can drop the attitude. We can tell you’re a badass from the way you’re dressed.”
“Really?” Ruthanasia glared at me. “Then maybe you shouldn’t piss me off.”
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” I leaned against the registration table in a blatant display of casual disregard. “I’m a badass too. I just don’t feel the need to shove it down people’s throats two seconds after they walk through the door.”
“We’ll just go fill out that paperwork now,” Darcy interjected, looking fearfully between the two of us. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Whatever.” Ruthanasia shot me an intense frown. I felt this urge to push things a little further just to see what would happen, but I shut my mouth instead. I needed to make this team, and taking the bait wasn’t going to make it happen; I shouldn’t have let her get to me in the first place. I knew I couldn’t put all the blame for that argument on her, but recognizing that there was a chip on my shoulder didn’t make it go away.
The rink was brightly lit, with a small snack bar off in one corner, newish tile, and about ten disco balls hung at what seemed like random spots around the ceiling. I found an empty bench near the locker room and tried to distract myself with all the paperwork. About ten minutes’ and five pages’ worth of monotony later, Darcy and I were lacing up our skates and strapping on pads. I tried to get all the water out of my socks, but it still felt like my feet were encased in moldy sponges. I’d just have to ignore it.
Darcy led the way across the worn carpet to the rink entrance. A few other girls were already out there, whizzing around in circles with long, graceful strides. There were only a couple of wall huggers; it looked like the competition would be pretty fierce. Good.
The smooth hardwood glided under my feet, and I instinctively sank slightly to maintain my balance and build upspeed. My legs wobbled a bit and then locked in underneath me, and I rocketed past a gaggle of girls, who stared at my marker-scribbled head and whispered among themselves. I strapped on my helmet and pretended not to have noticed.
It felt good to spin around the track under the glare of the fluorescent overheads. The movement warmed up my frozen limbs and made the
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