Free Demon Derby by Carrie Harris

the line with Darcy at my elbow.
    “Good luck!” she said, reaching over and squeezing my hand. I barely felt it; I was too focused on the expanse of lanes in front of us, the smooth grain of the floor, the flash of the lights overhead.
    “On your mark, get set, go!” the dreadlocked girl said.
    I surged forward, legs pistoning out in long, sure strokes, carrying me out into the empty air in front of the group. The first curve came, and I leaned into it, inertia tugging at my feet. The tips of my fingers grazed the floor. I felt like a million lava-teared freaks couldn’t catch me if they tried.
    When I whizzed past, the hot guy caught my eye for a fraction of a second, but this time I didn’t feel afraid. I felt fearless and free and as fast as the wind.
    At the beginning of lap four, I started to falter. By this time, I was way ahead; I’d even lapped a spindly girl skating with her elbows stuck way out to the sides for either balance or protection. Darcy was in second place, almost a quarter of a lap behind. But my speed started to decrease rapidly; my legs quivered as the burst of energy and adrenaline faded. I’d trained so hard, but apparently it hadn’t been hard enough.
    My skates felt like bricks, but I couldn’t give up. I picked up one skate and then the other, over and over again until finally the end was in sight. The dreadlocked girl stood next to the finish line, a long red stripe that I focused on to the exclusion of everything else. I forced one final burst of speed. A flash of pink to the right drew my attention; I glanced over to see Darcy’s sleeve … her shirt … her gritted teeth as she surged past me and over the finish line, in the lead by a second or two.
    I coasted across the line behind her, rolled to the railing, and held on to it just in case my legs gave out. Second place wasn’t bad, or so I tried to tell myself. But some of the girls in the first heat had been really fast, and there was still one group left to skate. If I didn’t win the next event, I might not score high enough to make callbacks.
    That wasn’t an option.
    “You okay?” Darcy skated over and put a hand on the small of my back.
    I nodded, still too breathless to speak.
    “I’m thinking it’s totally time for some water. If I don’t get a drink, I’ll pass out!”
    “God, yes,” I croaked.
    After we got our water, we sat down to catch our breath while the derby girls created an obstacle course out of dingy orange cones. We’d have to maneuver through a narrow, winding path around the rink. The other applicants pointed out the sharpest turns and whispered worriedly in their little cliques.
    “Oh, dang!” Darcy said suddenly. “I’ve got to go potty.”
    “Go ahead, then.” I pushed her gently in the direction of the ladies’ room. “Watch out for the water on the floor. If they start, I’ll hold you a spot.”
    “Thanks!”
    After she left, I turned my attention back to the rink, leaning on the railing and evaluating the course. I felt someone walk up behind me, the prickling at the base of my spine that meant I wasn’t alone.
    “I think you set a bathroom record, Darcy,” I said, turning around.
    Only it wasn’t her. The hot guy stood there with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cargos and a confused look on his face. With that expression, he wasn’t intimidating at all, and I felt a little foolish about the whole running-from-the-rink thing now that I was face to face with him. This guy was clearly not the tongue-molesting type. Or the crying-fire type either. And he probably thought I was a tool after the way I’d acted.
    “Sorry. I thought you were somebody else,” I said lamely.
    He tilted his head. “How did you know I was here?”
    “Oh. Martial arts. They teach a lot of awareness stuff. No big deal.”
    “No big deal? Unless you have eyes in the back of your head, I’d say that’s pretty impressive.” He paused, considering. “Actually, I think eyes in the back of