Page 121 of Even Odds
“I swear I’ll stop fighting if you put me down! Please!”
The three people who claim to love me more than anything ignore me and continue down the sidewalk. Mallory’s car, Flintstone, beeps, and Adri jogs around them to open the back door for me.
“Relax, silly. You’re going to enjoy this,” she promises.
I snarl at her as they toss me into the car, but I’ve never been happier to be vertical.
Adri and Jo fall onto the seats beside me and squish me in the middle. The tiny space is almost worse than being dragged out of my house in my comfy clothes with zero idea where I’m going.
Adjusting the rearview mirror, Mallory’s eyes meet mine. “You guys look cozy back there. How are you feeling, Shay?”
“Like I’d rather be at home,” I say, crossing my arms. But I can’t lie, the sun on my skin did feel nice after the initial burn went away. Maybe I did need to go outside. “Where are we going? I deserve to know that at least.”
She pulls onto the road. “To let out some of that feminine rage.”
And now I feel bad for throwing a fit.
I make my way to where my friends are standing in the industrial warehouse, surrounded by metal walls and a buzz of distant crashes. The air smells like dust with a faint tang of cleaning spray that doesn’t quite mask the scent of sweat. Overhead, a yellow sign blinks happily, “LET IT OUT.”
We’re dressed for mass destruction in our coveralls. Mallory looks like an orange traffic cone in hers, struggling to tuck her coils into the helmet. Adri picked a deep red that matches her lipstick. Jo went with burnt orange, mainly because it was the only one left.
I zip my pink coveralls. “A rage room?”
Using the glass as a mirror, Adri wrangles her waist-length curls into a braid. “How better to release rage than breaking a bunch of stuff?”
They kidnapped me for a good reason.
Mallory taps my clear plastic face shield before I can apologize. “You’re allowed to be upset and sad and angry. Baths and comfort food are amazing, but I think you need to break some shit and scream. Nice and calm self-care activities don’t always fix everything.”
If I try to speak, I’m sure I’ll start crying.
“Thank you,” I mouth. “I love you big.”
“I love you bigger,” she mouths back.
“Woah. You four look ready to destroy some stuff.” I turn to find a tattooed woman in a denim jumpsuit sliding behind the counter. “I’m Ellen, and I’ll be monitoring your rage experience today in Heavy Hitters. Are we celebrating a divorce or breakup today?”
“Neither.” Adri grabs my hand. “We’re fighting the patriarchy.”
“I like the sound of that.” Ellen waves us toward a hallway lined with scuffed floor tape. “I’ll add a few extra goodies to your room.”
Mallory raises her hand like a perfect student. “Can I play music?”
“Sure can. Hook up your phone and close the box. If you’re all ready to go, it’s all yours.”
Ellen gives my shoulders a little push, so I take the lead and open the metal door. Heavy Hitters looks more like an abandoned workshop than a recreational space. Scarred plywood is painted with scathing graffiti about a man named Carl. The ground is littered with twisted metal and shards of glass. In one corner, a battered fridge leans sideways on a wooden pallet. Next to it, a washer and dryer sit like squat, silent opponents. A gleaming car door stands bolted upright on a steel frame, spray-painted with a black heart.
Ellen’s voice crackles over the intercom. “You’ve got ninety minutes. Choose your weapon. And remember, helmets downbeforeyou swing.”
We all turn toward the steel rack bolted to one wall and gasp.
“Holy shit.” Jo’s already mild voice is muffled behind her face shield.
Full-size sledgehammers and crowbars hang from the rack, heavy and gleaming. Metal pipes are cold and solid, stacked on the ground. A bucket of mallets and hammers sits off to the side, but my eyes are on the aluminum baseball bats floating horizontally on the wall.
But I burst out laughing when “What The Hell” blasts through the speakers and Adri starts dancing like we’re at a bar and not a rage room.
“Did you make a feminine rage playlist for today?” I ask Mallory.
