Every member of the Rockin' Rivets can tell when Val is feeling a little pent up. Her roller derby drills get less careful, her bi-lingual tongue gets twice as foul, and her anger becomes borderline explosive.
During one of their defensive drills, groups of four players skate around the track - a jammer in each cluster. The jammer's goal is to escape their pack and advance to the next. The roar of wheels on parquet flooring mixes with the playlist blasting from the gym speakers and the muddled yelling of the scrimmage. Skaters buzz around the track, a blur of helmets and knee pads, all coated in the team color - a bright neon orange.
Val's group skates in sync, surrounding the jammer. Already up to speed, another blocker Trina throws a perfect pin maneuver, shoving her ass back swiftly into Val's thighs, effectively blocking her and freeing the jammer. The drill worked perfectly. That is, for everyone except Val. Smashing straight into Trina breaks Val's balance, which she takes as direct offense. Trina pissed Val off, as most things did, but she felt the rage overtake her sportsmanship more quickly than usual.
Forced down the track by the block, she makes a few decisive strides to increase her speed, getting as close to Trina as possible. She forgets all about the goals of the drill, focused only on executing a risky crossover in retribution. Val shifts her weight onto her dominant leg, the wind of her velocity flitting her long, black ponytail against her shoulders. Neck-and-neck with Trina, she crosses her non-dominant leg over, hits the floor with her wheels, and instantly switches direction. Val is nothing more than an orange blur as she slices straight in front of Trina.
"What the fuck?!" Trina yells, popping up on her toe and spinning like a top. The force sends her skidding into the rail. "Watch it, cunt!" She spoke before thinking, breaking the zen persona she had carefully cultivated. Her voice echoes through the gym, drawing the attention of a dozen skaters, onlookers, and arcade goers.
Val's face snaps back to the noise, her skates following suit. "You say something to me, pendeja?"
"Ladies, take a breather! Now!" booms the voice of their team captain. She hadn't seen the exchange, but it didn't matter. Either they were a team that worked together, or they were no team at all.
Val rolls her eyes, but leaves the track. A "breather" requires ditching their skates and helmets, donning street shoes, and lapping the building stride for stride until the issue is resolved. Without so much as a glance in her teammate's direction, Val is through the door and out onto the sidewalk before Trina can even switch shoes.
Newer to the team, Trina's slight frame and bleached pixy cut made her seem non-threatening, but she's every bit as strong as Val, and twice as crude. No one knew that about her... yet. Eager to get back into her skates, she leaves her sneakers partially untied while jogging to catch up to Val. The heat of midday is a stark contrast from the fluorescent gym lights and air-conditioned game hall interior. Her body adjusts to the heat, and her eyes adjust to the sunlight. She searches the street for her teammate, spotting the whisper of Val's hair disappearing around the side of the building. She's already starting her laps. Of course.
"Val!" Trina calls after, breaking into a trot. The pavement slaps her feet, bright grey concrete warming her bare legs. She sidesteps into the grass and rounds the corner, stepping into a relieving shade.
Val can hear her approaching, but she's not in the mood to resolve anything. "Fuck off, Trina," she spits.
"Look, Val, it was a simple pin maneuver. You didn't see it coming and that's on you," she says, thudding to a stop. Her words are harsh, but not untrue.
Val has been muddled lately. Distant. Friends have noticed it. Family have noticed it. Her performance with her team has been suffering, but there was too much going on in her mind to keep track of everything at once. She felt like breaking down, right then and there. Her self-assured mask was slipping. "I. Said. Fuck. Off."
"Can't," Trina shakes her head. "Not until we resolve this."
Val glared over at Trina. "Who do you think you are anyways?" Trina's response is to sigh heavily and let the silence hang. In Val's mind, she's still churning. She knows that her teammate is right, but a welling anxiety makes her muscles shake. She's losing control. "You've been on the Rivets for a month, acting like you know everything, but I'm twice the blocker you are," her tone is condescending. Val sticks a tape-wrapped finger in Trina's face.
"Well... I don't know about that," she scoffs.
