Read Troll Or Derby, A Fairy Wicked Tale for Free Online

incredible—hand me the other one.”
    I had the skates on in about thirty seconds flat, and was barreling around the rink in a low crouch in less than a minute.
    “Keep your knees bent—like you’re sitting in a chair!” barked the Coach. “Lean into the turns, don’t square up—this isn’t speed skating!”
    “It’s not roller derby, either, Coach!” I called.
    “Never hurts to start training early,” he sighed, his meaty man-hands clutching the metal bar guarding the edge of the rink. “As soon as you’ve got a car, I expect you to join those girls in Bloomington—be part of a real team.”
    I rolled up to him, seamlessly gliding over the edge of the rink, and performed a quick 180, raising up on my toe stops to slow down completely—the tricky Mohawk turn I’d seen so many rollergirls do. He didn’t even jump as I approached.
    “They feel good, Coach. Really stable, too—not too loose, trucks aren’t too tight. Are these somebody’s special order?”
    “Yeah,” he said. “Mine. For you.”
    I didn’t know what to say. I stared at him, completely thrown. I mean, the Coach was nice and all, and I’ll admit it—I trusted him more than any other adult in town—but this was a really expensive gift, and we weren’t really in the habit of buying each other stuff.
    “But,” I started. Thoughts of Gennifer and Mom sputtered into my head, and I knew something was wrong. I just couldn’t recall what it was. My head was swimmy, and yet I felt more alive than I ever had. Skating always made me feel good, but nowhere near as good as these skates had done. It was like they’d taken me to another level. How could I possibly pay the Coach back for these?
    “But, nothing,” he said. “You’ve been my most loyal skater at this rink, and I know you’re going to do great things in roller derby, when you get the chance. The truth is, you’re going to need a decent pair of skates to do it. Those raggedy-ass old things you wear out in the street are about shot—I wouldn’t be surprised if the bearings locked and you rolled right out in front of a car one of these days. I’ve tried to get you to work here, thinking maybe you’d be able to save up for a decent set of skates, but …”
    “Aw, Coach,” I said. I wiped the tears away as quickly as I could, but I’m pretty sure he saw me crying. “I don’t know what to say.”
    “Big girls don’t cry, kid. Thank me later.” He put his huge, solid hand on my head and tousled my hair. “About time somebody believed in you, Deb. It ain’t right what your Mom gets up to, the way she treats you one way and your sister the other. She knows better.”
    My sister. Gennifer. Oh, shit.
    “Yeah, Coach—that’s why I came here, actually. I need some help.”
    “Shoot.”
    “It’s going to sound weird, okay? Just try and listen to the whole thing before you call me crazy, alright?”
    The Coach smiled and raised his right hand in a mock-vow. “I solemnly swear to listen to all your bullshit before I laugh at whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time,” he said.
    “Yeah, thanks,” I said. A cold wave of fear washed over me, radiating from my belly.
    The Coach kept his word and listened to the entire tale of the fire, Gennifer’s disappearance, even my mom’s weird confession about my origins and that supposed prophecy. Not once did he look surprised.
    “Do you think she was just drunk?” I asked. “Do people make up stuff like that when their brain cells are eaten up, or what?” I was only half-joking. My mother was an alkie, no question. I’d stayed awake long enough in health class to know that if sniffing glue could make you retarded, then the case of Pabst Blue Ribbon she put away every day wasn’t helping her mental state.
    The Coach wasn’t laughing. “What I think isn’t important, Deb,” he said. “What do you think about all of this?”
    “Are you asking me how I feel about my mother?” I asked. “Should I lie