Beca sent you a message.
Beca: So how’s the internship going?
Fat Amy: Total bust, yours?
Beca: Loving it. LA is awesome. What do you mean total bust?
Fat Amy: Boss = stupid, customers = worse, it’s hot as balls ALL THE FUCKIN TIME. Worse than January at home.
Beca: I mean you are in Texas. Only two more months of summer, though, you can make it.
Fat Amy: nah, quit yesterday.
Beca: What are you doing, then??
Beca: Are you going to go back to Barden for the rest of the summer? You could probs stay with my dad if you need somewhere to live
Fat Amy: Just hanging around Austin, checking out all the fun shit to do.
Fat Amy: I met some people I’m staying with. No worries!
Beca: What kind of people?
Fat Amy: Roller derby girls. You’d like them. They don’t take any shit. Keep trying to get me to join the team for the summer season, though.
Beca: I don’t even know what to say to that.
Fat Amy: How about “that sounds like a blast Fat Amy, have fun”?
Beca: More like “that sounds terrifying, Fat Amy, please don’t get killed”
Fat Amy: Pussy.
At first, she’s adamantly opposed to even putting on a pair of skates. “Yeah, no, movement’s not really for me. Stationary is more my style. What if I went off rolling out of control? I’d probably end up in traffic.”
“We’re on a closed rink,” Ruthless says, looking at Fat Amy like she’s crazy. “How are you going to get to the street?”
“Anything could happen,” Fat Amy says, waving a hand.
“Come on, just try it,” Smashley wheedles. She holds her extra pair of skates out towards Fat Amy, who recoils. “You’d be awesome, I know it.”
“Leave her alone,” Rosa says as she zooms by. “If she’s not into it, she’s not into it.”
“Thank you,” Fat Amy says.
The coach, Reefer or Raisin or whatever his name is, glances up from his playbook for the first time all afternoon. “Probably a good choice,” he tells Fat Amy. “You look like you’d end up flat on your ass in the first ten seconds.”
Fat Amy looks at him coolly, then snatches the skates out of Smashley’s hands.
“Keep it moving!” Maggie shouts back over her shoulder. “Pick up the pace! Amy!”
“This is as fast as I go,” Fat Amy calls back. She drifts around the rink slowly, zen-like, moving her feet every few meters to keep up her momentum. The rest of the team is already halfway around the track. Smashley, wearing the jammer’s star on her helmet, is set to pass Fat Amy within seconds.
“You’re making it real easy for her to score!” Maggie yells.
Smashley’s skates clack against the floor just behind Fat Amy. Left, right, left, right, left again, and Smashley drops into a crouch to zip around Fat Amy at twice Fat Amy’s speed.
Fat Amy turns and clotheslines her.
Smashley goes down hard, sprawling across the track, as Fat Amy drifts through the rest of her 360 degree turn and glides calmly down the track.
“You’ve got a weird definition of ‘easy,’” she calls to Maggie.
Smashley groans and rolls over, giving the rest of her teammates a thumbs up. “Toldja she’d be awesome.”
“That trick is only going to work once in a game,” Razor says from his safe little spot in the stands.
“I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve,” Fat Amy says.
“Do any of them involve skating faster than a geriatric turtle?”
“What do you think?”
Razor glares at her. Fat Amy flashes him a toothy, exaggerated grin, and rolls on.
Beca sent you a message.
Beca: I saw the photos, they are BADASS!
Beca: You look awesome
Fat Amy: Thanks
Beca: I don’t get your name, though. Cock ‘Em Amy?
Fat Amy: Cock short for cold-cock
Fat Amy: Which I’m not technically allowed to do
Fat Amy: But shit happens, you know?
Fat Amy: I can’t help it if these twig bitches have brittle jawbones
Beca: Whoa, what?
Fat Amy: I’m off, we’ve got a match tonight.
Beca: Have fun? (Do you say “break a leg” at roller derby?)
Fat Amy: Nah, might be too literal
Fat Amy: Bye
Beca: Um, bye?
“Amy, no, don’t leave!” Smashley says, drawing out the E sound in leave. She flings her arms around Fat Amy’s neck, nearly knocking Fat Amy off her bar stool.
“Sorry, ladies, summer season only,” Fat Amy says, peeling Smashley off of her. “Gotta get back to higher learning and all that.”
“Higher, right,” Holly says. She mimes smoking a joint. “College kids.”
Rosa leans over with the pitcher of beer and refills Fat Amy’s glass, then tops off everyone else’s. “Well, we’ll miss your hitting.”
“And your moseying gradually around the track,” Maggie says.
“And the way you make Razor’s eyes bug out,” Ruthless says. “Guys, did you see his face when she just fell over right in front of Eva?”
“Bitch is quick,” Fat Amy says defensively. “Only way to take her down is with a human wall. Wham!” She slaps her stomach with both hands.
“We’ll miss you, Amy,” Smashley says over Ruthless’s giggling. She raises her glass, and the others follow suit. “To Cock ‘Em Amy, summer season Hurl Scout MVP.”
“Her methods are unconventional, but damn does she get results,” Maggie adds.
“I’ll drink to that,” Fat Amy says, and reaches up to cheers her teammates.
Fat Amy: You back on campus yet?
Beca: Almost, my dad made me stop at his house before I went. You there?
Fat Amy: Yeah, got in an hour ago
Fat Amy: Already started setting up our dorm room
Fat Amy: Hope you don’t mind having a life-size cardboard cutout of me for decoration
Beca: Uh, why?
Fat Amy: It was a gift from my roller derby teammates
Beca: That’s cute, I think?
Fat Amy: Actually it’s a little bit terrifying, I look like I’m going to steal your soul in the picture they blew up
Fat Amy: I think I’ll leave it by the foot of your bed.
Beca: I’m coming to campus now.
Fat Amy: See you in a few!