Hell's Belles (14 page)

Then came the peal of a whistle and Coach Ritter barreled across the track, stopping on her toes in the center of the action.

“Enough!” she shouted.

The girls immediately ceased their faux-kicking and mock hair-pulling, and caught their breath.

Annie watched as the High Rollers exchanged glances. She was pretty sure that for the most part they knew the whole brawl had been a sham, but a few of them looked worried that the Belles had anger management issues.

Coach was looking pretty angry herself. “What in the world was
that?”
she demanded.

“Theatrics,” said Holly. “We just wanted to remind them who they're dealing with, that's all.”

“Who they're dealing with,” said Coach sternly, “is a well-trained team of athletes who should know better than to behave like a bunch of psychos on the track!”

“We just wanted to scare them,” Liz said sheepishly. “We wanted them to think that we were loose cannons, so they'd be less likely to mess with us.”

Coach sighed. “I understand,” she said. “I do. You're upset because their antics are partially to blame for Annie's injury. But in my opinion, nonsense like that is what gives roller derby a bad name. If we want this sport to be taken seriously, we have to behave like serious athletes — at all times.”

Holly lowered her eyes. “It's my fault, Coach,” she confessed in a mumble. “The whole thing was my idea.”

Annie was pretty certain Coach would have figured that out without a confession.

Coach was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed heavily. “Okay. You don't intimidate an opponent by out-bragging, out-threatening, or out-trashing them. You do it by going out there and out-skating them. Never again, team. Do I make myself clear?”

The girls nodded, and murmured, “Yes, Coach.” Even Annie, who hadn't actually taken part but felt guilty by association, muttered an apology.

She decided to take Coach's advice to heart. Next time Dee Stroyer or anyone else got under her skin, she would just have to rise above it and make it about the skating and the skills.

Not about Tyler Erickson.

Coach gave a firm nod. “Now,” she said, “get yourselves together. The scrimmage starts in five.”

A few of the girls went to the lockers to splash cool water on their sweaty faces. Sharmila stayed behind to deal with her long, gorgeous mane of velvety black hair. The craziness had caused it to come loose from the French braid she wore. When she accidentally dropped her hairband, Jesse practically dived to pick it up from the floor.

Or at least that's how it seemed to Annie.

“Nice work out there,” Jesse said, handing Sharmila the band. “You got out of Lauren's half nelson without batting an eyelash. You were like Houdini or something.”

Sharmila laughed. For a second, Annie couldn't believe that this feminine giggle was coming out of the same tough brawler she'd just seen on the track.

Annie fiddled with the stopwatch as Jesse continued to talk to Sharmila, who expertly folded her long glossy hair over and over itself until the plait was back in place.

Annie wasn't sure why Jesse paying attention to a pretty girl should bother her. Maybe she was just feeling jealous because she was certain that Tyler would never look at
her
that way now — not after she humiliated him by turning him down for the dance.

She didn't get to think about it much longer, because her teammates were returning from the locker room and the High Rollers were already on the track preparing to scrimmage.

“Thanks for the show,” Dee Stroyer said in a sarcastic voice. “Maybe next time you can do
Wicked
for us.” Then she let out a nasty, sarcastic laugh.

Annie gritted her teeth and vowed that next time, she'd put Dee Stroyer in her place.

The only problem was she'd have to get back on her skates to do it.

The next evening, Annie went to Coach Ritter's house to babysit Abbey and Brandon. Coach had a meeting with her boss at the hospital and promised she would only be gone a couple of hours.

“Brandon will tell you he doesn't have to eat his broccoli, but that's a lie,” Coach explained, slipping a lightweight scarf around her neck. “And Abbey will probably play the ‘five more minutes' game when bedtime rolls around.” She smiled at Annie, whispering as she buttoned her coat. “Here's a trick. Start getting her ready for bed fifteen minutes early, and then you can give her three five-minute grace periods. You still get her to bed on time, but she thinks she's getting away with something.”

“Brilliant,” Annie said, giggling.

“Survival instinct,” teased Coach. “You've got to stay one step ahead of them at all times.”

“Just like roller derby,” Annie observed.

“Yes, except around here, I don't have a referee.”

Coach left for her meeting and Annie locked the door behind her. She found Abbey and Brandon waiting for her in the kitchen. Abbey had nearly cleared her plate, but Brandon, as predicted, still had a pile of broccoli on his. “I don't wike bwoccli,” he said, folding his arms firmly across his chest.

It took some cajoling on Annie's part and one exceedingly animated telling of
The Three Little Pigs
to get him to gobble down the remaining vegetables.

Later, while the kids enjoyed their dessert in front of the television, Annie loaded the dinner dishes into the dishwasher and put away the milk carton. As she did, she couldn't help engaging in a cheesy fantasy about being married to Tyler and having two adorable kids.

She was startled out of her daydream when she closed the fridge door and found Abbey smiling up at her. The little girl was holding a battered scrapbook.

“What's that?” Annie asked.

“You'll see!” cried Abbey. Then she bounded off into the living room.

Annie followed her and found both kids beaming at her from the sofa. Between them, the album was open to a photo of a stunning young woman on roller skates.

“Oh my God!” cried Annie, taking in the permed hairstyle and high-waisted acid-washed jeans. “Is that your mummy?”

Abbey nodded, pointing to the photo. “She was a roller derby girl in college.”

Annie laughed, sitting down and taking the scrapbook into her lap. “This is great,” she said, flipping the pages. There were several more pictures, even a few action shots that showed how aggressive Coach Ritter had been on the track. There were also several newspaper clippings that attested to the fact that “Miss Demeanor” had been a star.

They giggled over the photos for a little while, then Annie had to break the terrible news that it was time for bed.

“I can get ready myself,” Abbey informed Annie with a big smile. “But can I have five more minutes?”

Annie laughed. “Sure.”

Brandon protested, but only mildly. He was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open. Annie got him into his pajamas while Abigail headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“Sleep tight,” Annie whispered, tucking Brandon under the puffy blue quilt.

“Wait. Where's Quackers?”

“Crackers?” Annie was confused. “You just had cookies.”

“No.” Brandon shook his head. “Quackers is my duck.” He let out a huge yawn.

Annie searched around the room for a plush toy duck, but Quackers wasn't under the bed, in the toy box, or in any of the dresser drawers.

“Try the hamper,” Abbey suggested, appearing in the doorway wearing a pink ruffled nightgown. Annie opened the dirty clothes hamper. In addition to a pair of blue jeans with grass stains on the knees and a little sweatshirt streaked with finger paint, she also found Quackers!

“Thank you,” said Annie, grinning at the little girl. “You just earned yourself five more minutes!”

Abbey clapped her hands.

“Here you go,” she said, tucking the well-loved, worn-out yellow duck in beside Brandon.

“Ask him if he used the potty,” Abbey instructed.

“Did you use the potty?” Annie asked.

“I don't hafta go,” said Brandon, closing his eyes.

Annie turned off the light and tiptoed out of the room. Then she and Abbey spent the next fifteen minutes curled up on her pretty quilt. All Abbey could talk about was how one day she would be a roller girl.

“Just like your mum!” said Annie.

“And just like you!” said Abbey.

When Abbey finally nodded off, Annie went downstairs to begin her homework. She got her math out of the way first, then read a few chapters of
Wuthering Heights.
Three minutes into an essay on the First Continental Congress, her phone chirped. “Hey, Lex,” she said, accepting the call.

“How's the child wrangling going?” Lexie joked.

“They're cute,” Annie said. “But exhausting.”

They talked about school for a bit, and Annie floated the idea that maybe she should approach Tyler and ask him out. “I'm just afraid I've blown any chance I ever had with him,” she grumbled.

“It's his loss,” Lexie said. “He's a moron if he can't understand why you didn't want to let down your team. Try to put him out of your mind.”

“He's too cute not to think about!”

Lexie giggled. “True. You know who else is?”

“Who?”

“Duh. Jesse! He's also cooler and nicer than Tyler.”

“He's also in love with Sharmila.”

“
What?!
Since when?”

“I don't know,” said Annie with a deep sigh. “Maybe since forever. You should have seen the way he looked at her the other day at the rink.”

“Sounds like you're jumping to conclusions,” said Lexie. “If you ask me, if he likes anyone, it's—”

Lexie's observation was cut off by the sound of a scream from the upstairs hallway. “Gotta go!” cried Annie, hitting the phone's off button. She leaped out of her chair and ran.

At the top of the stairs she heard Brandon's voice crying, “Quackers! Quackers, you got flushed!”

Uncontrollable sobbing was coming from the bathroom. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing coming from the bathroom. Annie looked down to see that a steady flow of water was already seeping into the hall carpet.

She dashed into the bathroom, where Brandon was wailing. The feet of his pajamas were soaked through, and a steady cascade of water continued to bubble up and out of the toilet. Annie began grabbing anything she could to mop up the flood — tissues, bath sheets, even a plush chenille bathrobe she found hanging on a hook behind the door.

But the waterfall did not stop.

Annie gave up. She splashed across the tile floor, picked Brandon up and sat him on the edge of the sink. As the toes of his pajama feet dripped into the deluge, she took out her phone and called home.

“Dad . . . ?
Help
!”

Eventually, they were able to piece together the events that had led to the fact that Annie's father was now standing above the Ritters' toilet with a plunger.

Brandon had gotten up to use the bathroom, but in his groggy state, he'd accidentally dropped poor little Quackers into the toilet, then flushed before he realized his toy had decided to go for a swim.

The good news was that Quackers had been rescued and was soaking in some strong detergent in the bathroom sink. The bad news was that the toilet was currently out of order until Coach Ritter could bring in a plumber.

Annie was helping Brandon into a dry pair of pajamas when the front door opened.

“Hello?” came Coach's anxious voice up the stairs. “Annie? I saw your father's car in the driveway and . . .”

“We're up here,” called Annie.

She could hear Coach taking the stairs two at a time. When she flew into Brandon's room, her eyes were filled with panic. “Is everything all right? Is anyone hurt?”

“Just Quackers,” said Abbey, who was perched on the foot of her brother's bed.

“He awmost dwowned!” Brandon reported, then, to clarify, he added, “in the toywet.”