Demon Derby by Carrie Harris Read Free Book Online Page A

it,” I replied noncommittally, earning myself a disapproving look from everyone else at the table. They didn’t get it. And while Little Casey probably missed me as much as I missed her, I bet she understood the urge to leave and never look back. “So about that permission slip …”
    “As long as Dr. Rutherford is okay with it,” Mom said. “I don’t want you to push too hard too fast. Especially after yesterday.”
    “Anybody can get mugged, Mom. That has nothing to do with my overall health. Dr. Rutherford said it would be good for me to be more active. Get my strength up.” I kept my face straight. My parents had overactive BS detectors. It came with the theater-prof territory; they could spot a poor performancefrom a mile away. Either I was better at acting than I thought or they wanted to believe as much as I did that my health problems were over, because neither of them gave me a second look.
    “Roller derby? Awesome! You’ll be the star of the team. There will be blood on the pavement!” Dad gestured with his fork like it was a sword. Not like swords and roller derby had anything to do with each other; he just took any excuse to pretend to sword fight. “But it shall not be yours! Not this day, or any other!”
    “You need medication,” Rachel said.
    Dad put the fork down. “I’ve been told that before.”
    “I think the tryouts are a great idea, honey.” Mom sipped her wine. “You aren’t happy just sitting around the house. Just promise me you’ll be careful, yes?”
    “Of course I will,” I said dutifully.
    “You’ll need a fully defined character, though, won’t you? Those derby girls always have great characters. I’ll help if you like.”
    “Thanks, Mom.”
    I said it with a straight face, but no way was I going to take her up on it. I wasn’t letting them turn my derby audition into one of their theater productions. They’d make me into Ophelia on skates. And I was not down with being O-wheelie-a. Not one bit.
    “You’ll need to explore her motivations,” she continued dreamily. “Her aspirations. Her fears …”
    I finished the cake, but she snapped out of her reveriebefore I could move, swiping up the dishes and dashing back into the kitchen. Stereotypical Mom behavior, veering wildly between frenetic energy and complete crazeballs.
    Moments later, she was back with parfait glasses full of some unidentifiable brown stuff.
    “Oh God,” Rachel said. “What is that?”
    “Mousse!” Mom exclaimed. “Casey loves sweets, and it’s her special celebration, so we have five courses of dessert tonight. Isn’t that just the coolest idea?”
    My parents looked at me with identical expressions of excitement and glee, and I smiled despite my roiling stomach. It still wasn’t the same after all those months of chemo and hospital food. At the words “five courses of dessert,” it felt like my stomach tried to jump out of my body and run for safety.
    But I did love dessert. I shoveled a big bite of mousse into my mouth.
    “This is really amazing,” I said. “Did you make it?”
    “Well, yes.” Mom blushed. “I’m not much of a cook, but I know how much you love chocolate, so I got the recipe from Cherise. You remember her, don’t you? She does the costumes for the theater. This is actually my third attempt; the first two were inedible.”
    “Completely inedible,” Dad interjected, smiling fondly at her.
    I couldn’t keep from smiling too. “Thanks, Mom.”
    After the mousse course was over, she produced a big bowl brimming with apple crisp. It was heavenly. Or it would havebeen if I hadn’t had a pound of dessert in me already. But I was still determined to eat it.
    “I’m sorry.” Rachel stood up. “I can’t take this anymore.”
    “What?” Mom asked.
    “You’re going to make her sick. The dessert thing is a fun idea, but you don’t stop to think things through. She’s been eating like a bird ever since she got out of the hospital. How do you think her