Free Demon Derby by Carrie Harris Page B

“They seem to addle her brain.”
    “You think?” Barbageddon wrinkled her nose.
    Darcy nodded and managed to squeak out, “Is he for real?”
    “Mmmmm,” Barbageddon said noncommittally. “Any questions related to the course?”
    “No. Thanks,” I said.
    “All right, then. Let’s get moving.” She motioned us up to the starting line. “Let’s see what you’ve got, ladies. On your mark, get set, go!”
    We launched ourselves off the line in almost perfect unison, with Darcy quickly pulling into the lead. I didn’t let it bother me, even when she edged a little farther ahead going into the first S-turn. After the last few months of perfecting my napping technique, I was physically weaker and knew it; I’d already blown my reserves in the speed drill. But I remembered something Sensei always said: “If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.”
    Of course, since he was a ninja, he always followed it up with “If you get caught, you’re not trying hard enough.”
    So instead of slowing down to maneuver through the twisty obstacle like Darcy did, I increased my speed with long, sure strokes, rocketing toward the cones on a collision course. Moments before impact, I cranked my torso down, elbows curled to my sides, and launched my legs into the air in a perfect aerial spin, like a cartwheel with no hands and on roller skates. Once I was completely airborne, I had to wonder if this was a big mistake, because being a good skater and a good freerunner didn’t necessarily mean you could do both at the same time without splatting, and I hadn’t been back on skates for long. But by the time I was in the air, it was too late.
    I sailed over the first curve and landed on my toe stops, and then sprang back up into the air again, passing over the obstacle entirely instead of skating through it. That maneuver would shave seconds off my time. Darcy’s startled face appeared in my field of vision as I flew through the air just inches away. Then I touched down again, bringing my body into a crouch to preserve forward momentum.
    Well, that had been surprisingly easy. I’d tried a few aerials over the past couple of days, but not two in a row. The best thing about them is that they relied more on momentum than on strength, so my technique could make up for the fact that my muscles were taxed to the limit.
    Behind me, I could hear the scrape and hiss of Darcy’s skates moving at an even more frantic pace to try to catch up, but I blocked out the sound as much as possible. I focused on the next few obstacles instead, jumping over a hairpin turn, tucking my knees to my chest, and landing in a neat crouch on the other side. I kept going, my chest heaving with exertion. I skipped over or otherwise avoided as many of the obstacles as I could. I heard a smattering of applause as I passed the other applicants, but I didn’t dare risk a look. Darcy was close on my heels as we skated toward the final obstacle: the narrowest of the corridors, banked all the way up against the wall.
    It was dotted with random cones to make it even more difficult to get through, which made jumping a poor proposition. If I came down on one, I could twist an ankle, or do something even worse. I pushed forward desperately, feeling Darcy at my heels, knowing that all I needed to do was getinto that corridor first and there would be no way she could pass me unless I fell.
    Just as I reached the obstacle, she shot past me wrapped in a tight crouch, low on her skates. Her elbow whacked the back of my legs, shoving me toward a cone. My skate caught on the edge of the orange plastic and whirled me around. I windmilled my arms in a vain effort to maintain my balance.
    Darcy didn’t even look back; she just kept on skating as I went spinning out of control. I had a moment to feel grateful that I was wearing a helmet, and then I hit the wall with my face.

My nose wouldn’t stop gushing. On the outside I was all, “It’s just a bloody nose. Chill. It’s