surprised by them. They’re not terrible. When I wake up on Sunday morning, I feel like I have a music hangover. I reach over to the coffee table to pick up my phone, and I see a text from Jade. “Derby?”it says. I have no
144 clue what she’s talking about, but when I text her back I fi nd out that she’s proposing we go see some girls on roller skates kicking ass, which sounds okay to me. Jade tells me she just wanted a girls’day out, and I’m all for that after this weird, music-fi lled weekend. She picks me up around eleven A.M. and we drive to a small stadium with a rink sur- rounded by banners that say TEXAS ROLLER- GIRLS. The teams have names like Texecutioners and Hotrod Honeys, and the women who are gearing up in pads and helmets are also dressed in amazing clothes—gingham shirts and denim skirts, or full-color jumpers. Some have braids in their hair, others wear striped knee socks. “This is hot,”I say to Jade as we take our seats near the edge of the rink. “Wait till someone collides with you,”says Jade. “You may go home with a black-eye souvenir.”I look at her and wonder if she’s kidding, but she seems serious. Jade explains to me that roller derby started in the 1930s, but kind of became a glitter-and- spandex fest in the eighties before it died out.
145 Then, a few years ago, a group of rocker girls in Austin decided to bring back the sport, com- plete with bands at the games. “It’s like a cross between a mosh pit and a burlesque show,”she says. “You know a lot about it,”I say, impressed. “I’m gonna join the league soon,”says Jade. “I hope.”I watch the players race around the track, trying to pass one another and avoid fl ying elbows and shoulders that their competitors throw to block them. “I can see why they need pads,”I say. “Go, Box-Out Betty!”shouts Jade at the top of her lungs, standing up and raising a fi st in the air. She sits back down and stares at the track. “Aren’t those girls just beautifully badass?”she says wistfully. “They really are,”I say, wondering if I could ever take the knocking and bruising with such ease. I’m kind of a wimp. When I see one of the women get a bloody nose all over her rhinestone halter, I have to look away. “Wanna get a snack?”I ask.
146 “Sure,”Jade says, walking with me to the concession stand, but not taking her eyes off the rink. “So how do you feel about seeing Rick on Monday?”I ask when we get out of the loud section of the stadium. “Okay,”she says. “I mean, better than I did Friday night when I had that crying jag.”I give her a sympathetic look. “Ugh, sorry about that,”she continues. “I acted like such a tool.”“Nah,”I say. “It’s totally understandable. Rick’s the one who should be embarrassed, taking advantage of you like that.”“Hey!”says Jade, swatting my arm. “I did the seducing, you know.”“True,”I say. “You’re such a vamp.”She laughs and orders a ginger ale. I’m glad she’s feeling better, but I’m sure there’s more drama to come on Monday. You can’t hook up with your boss and have things at the offi ce be normal. When we get back to our rinkside seats, Jade tells me to be quiet. “Huh?”I ask.
147 “You’re getting that song stuck in my head,”she says. “If that happens, I won’t be able to stop singing it for hours.”“What song?”I ask. “The one you’ve been humming, like, all day,”she says. What is she talking about? “What are you talk- ing about?”I ask. “Quinn, there is hard rock pumping through these speakers, and you’re obsessing over some old country song,”she says. “I think it’s by Loretta Lynn, right? My dad used to love her.”I tune into my subconscious and hear a B-side track on Russ’s mix running through my head. “It’s from the mix,”I say, almost to myself. “What mix?”asks Jade absentmindedly. She’s watching someone from the Texecutioners get taken down hard. The derby girl
144 clue what she’s talking about, but when I text her back I fi nd out that she’s proposing we go see some girls on roller skates kicking ass, which sounds okay to me. Jade tells me she just wanted a girls’day out, and I’m all for that after this weird, music-fi lled weekend. She picks me up around eleven A.M. and we drive to a small stadium with a rink sur- rounded by banners that say TEXAS ROLLER- GIRLS. The teams have names like Texecutioners and Hotrod Honeys, and the women who are gearing up in pads and helmets are also dressed in amazing clothes—gingham shirts and denim skirts, or full-color jumpers. Some have braids in their hair, others wear striped knee socks. “This is hot,”I say to Jade as we take our seats near the edge of the rink. “Wait till someone collides with you,”says Jade. “You may go home with a black-eye souvenir.”I look at her and wonder if she’s kidding, but she seems serious. Jade explains to me that roller derby started in the 1930s, but kind of became a glitter-and- spandex fest in the eighties before it died out.
145 Then, a few years ago, a group of rocker girls in Austin decided to bring back the sport, com- plete with bands at the games. “It’s like a cross between a mosh pit and a burlesque show,”she says. “You know a lot about it,”I say, impressed. “I’m gonna join the league soon,”says Jade. “I hope.”I watch the players race around the track, trying to pass one another and avoid fl ying elbows and shoulders that their competitors throw to block them. “I can see why they need pads,”I say. “Go, Box-Out Betty!”shouts Jade at the top of her lungs, standing up and raising a fi st in the air. She sits back down and stares at the track. “Aren’t those girls just beautifully badass?”she says wistfully. “They really are,”I say, wondering if I could ever take the knocking and bruising with such ease. I’m kind of a wimp. When I see one of the women get a bloody nose all over her rhinestone halter, I have to look away. “Wanna get a snack?”I ask.
146 “Sure,”Jade says, walking with me to the concession stand, but not taking her eyes off the rink. “So how do you feel about seeing Rick on Monday?”I ask when we get out of the loud section of the stadium. “Okay,”she says. “I mean, better than I did Friday night when I had that crying jag.”I give her a sympathetic look. “Ugh, sorry about that,”she continues. “I acted like such a tool.”“Nah,”I say. “It’s totally understandable. Rick’s the one who should be embarrassed, taking advantage of you like that.”“Hey!”says Jade, swatting my arm. “I did the seducing, you know.”“True,”I say. “You’re such a vamp.”She laughs and orders a ginger ale. I’m glad she’s feeling better, but I’m sure there’s more drama to come on Monday. You can’t hook up with your boss and have things at the offi ce be normal. When we get back to our rinkside seats, Jade tells me to be quiet. “Huh?”I ask.
147 “You’re getting that song stuck in my head,”she says. “If that happens, I won’t be able to stop singing it for hours.”“What song?”I ask. “The one you’ve been humming, like, all day,”she says. What is she talking about? “What are you talk- ing about?”I ask. “Quinn, there is hard rock pumping through these speakers, and you’re obsessing over some old country song,”she says. “I think it’s by Loretta Lynn, right? My dad used to love her.”I tune into my subconscious and hear a B-side track on Russ’s mix running through my head. “It’s from the mix,”I say, almost to myself. “What mix?”asks Jade absentmindedly. She’s watching someone from the Texecutioners get taken down hard. The derby girl
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