Demon Derby by Carrie Harris

not like my face fell off.” But inside, I kept thinking this was the end; I was bleeding more than a healthy person should; the leukemia was back, and this time there would be no miraculous recovery. More than anything, I hated constantly second-guessing my body. Sometimes it felt like every cough was a death sentence. I knew that was stupid, but I couldn’t help it.
    “Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Darcy said for the sixteenth time, patting my arm in an apparent effort to reassure herself it was still operational. I just wanted everyone to stop fussing and let me get up off the floor.
    “Really, I’m fine.” I pushed her hands away and checked the towel clasped to my face. “See? I think it’s slowing.”
    “Let her up already,” Ruthanasia demanded in a tone that made it clear to everyone she was losing patience with the whole situation. “We still have a lot more to do tonight.”
    Her attitude ticked me off on the one hand, but on the other hand, I was thankful not to be coddled. The irony of this didn’t escape me.
    “I didn’t realize you fell.” Darcy pulled me to my feet. “Really, I didn’t.”
    “I know. It’s okay, honest. It was just an accident.”
    Darcy took one arm and Barbageddon the other. It was embarrassing enough to have face-planted into the wall, but once Darcy shouted to the whole freaking room that I was a cancer patient in remission, they started treating me like I might fall apart at any moment. Literally. Like a leper.
    I tried to skate away, and they tried to lead me toward the benches. None of us was successful.
    “Let go,” I said, my voice muffled from my already-swollen nasal area. “I’m really fine.”
    Barbageddon wouldn’t let go. “You should sit—”
    “I’m finishing the course.” I set down the towel and probed tentatively at my face. No blood. About freaking time.
    She still wasn’t giving up, and I knew she just wanted to help, but it was hard not to growl. Couldn’t she understand that I had to do this to prove to everyone that I could? Especially myself.
    “But you need to—”
    “Leave her alone,” Michael ordered from his seat by the exit. It was the first time he’d spoken in front of the group,and some of the girls visibly swooned as his baritone washed over them. It tugged at the back of my neck, sending prickles up my spine. I wanted to look at him and maybe drool a little. But now that I knew to expect it, the urge was easier to resist. Not easy, but easier.
    “Are you sure?” Barbageddon asked, her grip loosening but not releasing entirely.
    “She’s fine,” he replied firmly. “Let Casey finish the course at her own pace.”
    I flashed him a grateful smile and tried to pretend everyone wasn’t staring at me as I cautiously slalomed through the cone-filled track and across the finish line at a slow coast, but of course they were. Ruthanasia watched with distaste, Barbageddon with concern, and Darcy with hangdog guilt. Michael watched me too, but his eyes gave no hint of his feelings.
    At least they weren’t flaming.

    The rest of the applicants made it through the obstacle course without beating each other into pulp. My nose and upper lip had started to swell, so I got to apply an ice pack on a bench right near the rink. I had a stellar view of the back of Ruthanasia’s head as well as Michael’s butt. Now that I’d gotten a handle on the whole panic-for-no-reason thing, I felt free to admire it as it should have been admired. The butt, not the head.
    My rear-related reverie was cut short when Darcy said,“Would you like some nachos? I’ll get you some; just wait right here.”
    “No, thank you,” I said, but she was already gone. Normal people don’t gorge on carbs in the middle of a tryout, but she’d always been a nervous eater. The day we’d tested for senior green belt, she’d polished off half a box of Twinkies in about five minutes flat. I didn’t share the habit, but I couldn’t think of a graceful way to tell