CHAPTER 1
Willow
The flashof a camera goes off to my right just as Oopsie Daisy and Wrecker, my blockers, clear a path for me. I twist, rolling off the back of an opposing skater. My wheels tap together—shit—tripping me up at fifteen feet.
Four points.
My knees smack the track, pain jolting up my legs, but I pop back up, cursing the timing of that blinding flash. Finn’s camera. I should be used to it by now, but somehow, it always catches me off guard.
A sharp swat lands on my ass.
“Nice trip,” Smack ‘N Cheese—Cheese for short—laughs, skating up beside me.
I shove her playfully, finding my place in the pack as we tighten up. They’re the only pack I’ll ever need. I learned that lesson really well a few months ago.
“Get it together, Jinx.” Equi’Knox barks from across the floor, the command hitting as hard as any check.
I ignore her and push forward, flying with my blockers as we weave through the chaos. Coach Crusher always says,if you’re not falling, you’re not trying.
But my fall wasn’t just trying. It was Finn. His damn camera. And, okay, maybe a little clumsy footwork.
Finn Reed is a huge roller derby fan. If fandom had levels, he’d be a skyscraper. Except, he doesn’t just love derby; he’s obsessed. With me.
The girls call him my stalker.
I’d argue, but they’re not wrong.
He's harmless, aside from his habit of flashing his camera at the worst possible moments. And he’s not bad to look at. Bonus points for not being an alpha.
I shove the distraction out of my mind, locking back into the game. A shoulder check comes fast, but Cheese keeps me upright, her body absorbing the hit.
We break past The Black Devils’ blockers. Knox skates up, signaling she’s open. Their pack is gaining ground, caging me in.
Some jammers suck at teamwork. I’m not one of them.
I yank the star from my helmet and pass it to Knox just as their jammer lunges at her, throwing a desperate elbow that misses. She flies forward, seamless, as though she was made for this.
We’re still in the lead.
Sweat rolls down my temple, sticky against my skin. The scent of peaches ghosts through the air. I ignore it. No one here cares that I’m an omega. The only thing that matters is skating.
One more jam session, and we’re going to States.
Less than five minutes.
The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the jam, and my pack swarms around me as we skate back to the bench.
I collapse onto the seat as Twinkle Toes takes the star, slipping it onto her helmet with practiced ease. A fresh lineup hits the track.
Grabbing a towel, I run it over the back of my neck, thenpress it to my face, blotting away sweat. It comes away streaked with the blue sparkles of my eye makeup. I toss it aside, elbows resting on my knees, and watch Twinkle move.
She’s as graceful as a ballerina out there, gliding across the track as if her skates barely touch the ground. The Black Devils don’t stand a chance.
She taps her hips twice, calling off the jam.
The announcer bellows into his microphone, feeding the electric energy in the crowd.
“Pretty in Pink is one round away from the state competition! Can they keep the lead? We’ll find out as Jinx is back on the floor!”
