16. Harvey

16

HARVEY

Am I obsessed? No. Can I stop thinking about Nia-Death? Also no.

I've convinced myself it's normal to think about my enemy, my rival, this often. But as we lace up our skates, side-by-side in the locker room before our first bout as an official team, I can't help but vibrate from camaraderie.

"How are you feeling?" StarScreamer asks her.

"I'm so nervous. Scott didn't tell me who we were up against." Her face is a little colorless, like the panic is very real.

"Wait, you just found out we were matched against the Wolverine Dreams?" Star looks pissed, her nostrils flared and her jaw set, like Scott has finally crossed the line for her.

She storms out of the locker room, and though I'm curious, I don't bother asking. I don't have to, because DreadPool does it for me. "What's wrong with that team?"

Nia looks uncomfortable. She stares off to the side, avoiding eye contact as she tells the story. "That's who we played against when I got hurt so bad that I had to?—"

"Quit," DreadPool finishes for her. "Shit."

"He's such an asshole." Nancy pops the bubble on her gum as she slams her locker shut.

"No. I'm sure he didn't know," Nia defends him. "I can't expect everyone to know all my business."

She's not wrong, but skaters should have been informed of who we're bouting against long before the day of the bout. Nia should have been given the option to not skate today. There's not a single part of me that thinks she would have sat this out, though.

"Are you gonna be okay?" K asks her, their hand at her elbow, forcing her to turn to face them.

She takes a deep breath, staring into K's eyes before she nods.

K-Otic places a kiss on the top of her head, and there's a small part of me that hates myself even more than before because I can't stand how watching that makes me feel. I clear my throat loudly, clicking the plastic of my wrist guards together before I stand and skate out of the locker room.

Slam Night is a beautiful havoc. The rink is vibrating with energy. It looks great with the paint job, but it doesn't look like Skateland anymore. The grit was part of the charm, and now it looks… gentrified. Which is exactly the vibes Scott exudes with his Versace shoes and baby blue suit.

He's in the middle of the track, talking to one of the zebras, when I see Mo skating his way. The back of Morgan's shirt says "Coach" now. Not assistant, just coach. They deserve it, and if it's the one positive change that comes from all of this, then I'll celebrate it today. There's always time to mourn tomorrow.

Every skater has filed out of the locker room now, standing behind the partition wall, waiting for the announcer to call our names. The visiting team always goes first, a kindness we bestow upon them. K and Nia are at the front; as jammers, they'll be called before the pivots and then the blockers.

"Give it up for Reese Ender!" The pivot for the Wolverine Dreams is called onto the track, and I see Nia stumble back. She's shaking her head, and in a second, she's skating right through the locker room doors again.

Star and K follow after her.

I follow them.

"No. No, I-I can't. Not with Reese." She's laboring through the words.

Nia's sitting on the bench, her head between her legs as she takes in heavy drags of oxygen through her open mouth.

"Should I tell Scott?" Star asks her, her hand making soothing circles on Nia's back.

"No," I answer for her, causing all three heads to spin in my direction. "You're not afraid of her. Let's go skate."

"I am afraid of her," she corrects, her tone sharp, like she's angry at me for not accepting it. "I had to learn how to walk again because of her."

"Yeah? Well, I hit harder, and yet here you are… still walking, skating." I cross my arms over my chest and lean on the door frame.

She's staring at me blankly, like she's thinking through it.

"It's up to you," K assures her.

"You've got my back?" The question is solely meant for me.

I should feel insulted. Fuck, I am insulted. A jammer asking their pivot if they have their back shouldn't happen. It should be a given. But I've done nothing to convince her otherwise.

"Yeah, I've got your back, princess." I push the door open with one hand and gesture out to the track with my head. "Let's go."

She gives me a smile and nods, standing and skating past me just in time for the announcer to call her out.

"It's Nia-Death Experience!" The crowd cheers like they remember her. They probably don't, but the excitement is enough.

After K-Otic, I'm next, skating onto the track when he calls out for Harvey Dent-Her-Face. I take my place behind the pivot line next to Reese Ender, who doesn't spare a second glance my way. She doesn't need to. I'm the one sizing her up. I'm taller and my thighs are thicker, but we'll just have to see how hard this bitch really hits to make our jammer have that look on her face.

I look back at Nia, past the crowd of blockers between us to find her gaze locked directly on Reese's back. As if she feels the heat of my stare, she shifts to look my way. I give her a nod, a reminder of the promise I just made.

The referee blows the whistle, and we're off.

I'm skating, but Reese Ender stays back, and just when Nia is shoved into the wall of blockers, Reese hits Nia in the chest with her shoulder, sending her back. It's illegal contact, but the zebra can't see it, and every blocker on our team is too focused on clearing the opposing skaters. It's not until the pack has left her behind that she's able to get up. I'm skating backwards, lowering my speed so she can catch up, but just as I'm closing in on her, Reese hip checks Nia out of the boundaries of the track.

The Wolverine's jammer gets the first points.

We assemble behind our designated lines and wait for the next whistle. I'm skating forward, but once again, Reese is heading for Nia. I'm too used to jamming, too obsessed with going for the offense to interrupt the way this pivot skates. She's made Nia her target. It's obvious.

Nia's ready for her this time. I skate backwards through the line of blockers again, and with StarScreamer's help, I'm through, but not in time to prevent Reese from throwing her elbow into Nia's chest. It sends her skidding on her ass over the track.

I pull my mouthguard out to yell. "REF!" I shout through the noise, but the zebra raises their hands up like they didn't see anything.

Bullshit.

"That's fucking illegal contact and you know it!" I'm skating toward the ref, who's just now blowing the whistle on the jam.

"I didn't see it." The ref shakes her head.

"Then you're the only one. Go get your eyes checked before you miss some more calls," I spit out, turning back to my line.

The zebra blows a warning whistle at me, like she has no problem dealing me a penalty for back talk even though she's the one ignoring perfectly clear calls.

Reese is already there, waiting for the next jam. She's practically in Nia's space, hovering in front of the jammer line with that smug fucking look on her face.

I want to be the one to wipe it off.

It doesn't take much to knock Nia off the track, but with every jam that passes, it becomes more evident that it's not Reese's goal to interrupt, detain, or get in Nia's way. Her goal is to injure her. Every block, every check, every shove, is delivered illegally and in a way that slowly leaves Nia less and less able to defend.

It's bully behavior, and it's getting under my skin.

By halftime, the entire team is aware, and Morgan is pissed. With enough complaints, we sub out the zebra and get one of the side-line refs to switch out with her. It doesn't help. Reese Ender plays dirty, and the only way to deal with players like that is to give them a taste of their own medicine.

We're barely ahead, but we're winning, which lets me know each jam is making the opposing pivot more and more desperate. All I need is for the ref to see it. The whistle blows again, and I time a hip check that sends Reese right off the track and buys me enough seconds to get to Nia before her.

She's there, in a low squat, doing her best to stand-off against the Wolverine's jammer as they smash their shoulders against each other. That's when I really see it: the strength she has. It's not weakness in her body. She's a little damaged—sure, but she's certainly not frail. I get behind her and place my hands on her hips, sending her forward with all of my protection to keep her standing, regardless of who hits her.

With the push of my hands, she's through the wall of blockers, grabbing StarScreamer's hand as I hone in on Reese once more. I don't have to guess; she's headed for Nia, but she's so focused, she doesn't see me coming, and my shoulder block sends her flying. I use the opportunity to get to the front of the blockers, expecting to see Nia through, but she hasn't made it yet. It's okay, though, because the Wolverine's jammer is still too far back to matter.

Nia is stuck, trying to wiggle through a solid wall of opposing blockers while our teammates try to get her past them. It's an impossible ask, and Reese Ender is heading for her again. Nia's gaze follows mine, and we both watch as Reese inches closer, pushing DreadPool out of the way like she doesn't even care about the rules anymore.

"Fuck," Nia shouts through her mouthguard, the frustration obvious, and we all feel it. "Harvey!" She demands my attention, and just as I turn back to face her, she's pulling the star panty off her helmet. The Jammer helmet cover. She extends her arm, and without thinking twice, I take it, sliding it over my stripe before the opposing team realizes we're passing the star.

She's passing the star.

In a second, I'm moving again, leaving the Wolverine blockers behind while I steal the win.

She passed the fucking star.

It's not unheard of, a classic derby move, one that requires trust amongst all teammates. One that requires the jammer to give up all semblance of an ego in order to hand all the glory of the win to their teammate.

She cares more about us winning together than being the one responsible for it.

Once I make a full lap, I'm able to call the jam off and take points for us. Just as my hands move to my hip to signal the end of the jam, Reese shoves Nia off the track, full contact use of her hands on an opposing player's body.

Nia's too stunned by the action to react properly. She tries to stand but doesn't have the time to correct. Instead, she falls backwards, landing on her ass. She screams, and I catch a glimpse of Reese's skate on her wrist.

It's intentional. I know it is.

The ref sees it, blowing the whistle and calling the penalty, shoving Reese Ender in the box for the first time tonight. Dread and Yaga help Nia off the track. She's holding her wrist to her chest, and she screams when Mo releases the Velcro straps of her wristguard. K-Otic steps on the track, grabbing the appropriate helmet covers and making the switch with Nia. Her pained sobs are loud, but Mo continues to examine the injury when the zebra blows the whistle for the next jam.

The transition with K is seamless. We move in sync with each other and clear the track, while I whip them through the wall of blockers. Without the Wolverine's precious pivot, we take the next jam without a hitch.

The penalty timer ends, and Reese Ender moves from the box to the bench, where her coach lays into her. I've disregarded the entire next jam now, skating on autopilot and hoping that K-Otic can carry the win with me doing the bare minimum. Maybe we've scored enough to have it in the bag regardless.

My focus is on the Wolverine's pivot and her only.

Reese throws her helmet on the ground and storms off, skating into the guest locker room without a care. I let the jam finish out before I pull the stripe off my head and toss it at Bae's feet, indicating a substitute is needed.

I'm no longer in control of my own brain or feet, I simply skate toward the visiting team locker room.