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I can’t talk in this thing, so I wave at Ignacio as I close the door. Hauling ass, I walk to the side door and bang hard on it. I have to move quickly out of the way when it flies open, and a maintenance man makes a face as he sees me. I show him the plastic pass that was at my locker today as well, and he nods as he allows me to pass.

I glance over my shoulder to see that Ignacio is still waiting and it warms my heart that he didn’t rush off right away. In most circumstances, I’d be perfectly safe at a school event, but this isn’t a normal situation.

Turning back toward the man, I walk inside, following him as he leads me further into the arena. This is the first game that I’ll be attending as Asmodeus, the team mascot. I think they could call him other names that aren’t associated with lust and wrath, but that’s just me.

“Coach says he wants to speak to you before everything begins. Fans are up in the stands, the players are ready to roll, they’re just waiting for you,” he grunts.

I’m not late. I was told to come at this time to limit how much I was both in costume and my time at the arena. He can kick rocks. I stay in character and ignore him as he pushes open the freaking men’s locker room door for me to go inside.

Wait, what the fuck?

Thankfully, an older man with a quarter zip long sleeved shirt and khakis steps into the doorway, with the word COACH stitched on his chest.

“Good, you’re here. Come on in,” he grumbles, stepping back so that I can walk inside.

Don’t freak out. My heartbeat does the cha cha as I step into the room, while I remind myself that he’s not going to hurt me. He’s a fucking teacher.

Though at the end of the day, I’ve been hurt by others who weren’t supposed to touch me, and I’m fully armed in case this goes south.

“We don’t have a separate area for mascots, which means this is your locker,” he says, opening a door that’s at the far end of the room.

There is a stall or two where I can duck into to change once everyone is gone which is nice. Stowing away my things after I grab my skates, I shut the door before I face the coach.

“You’re going to be anonymous to everyone else, but I need to know who is going to be around my team. It’s a matter of safety. You know?” he asks.

I don’t say anything even though I do have to agree with him.

“The Devils play hard, and give their all to this game,” he continues, as if expecting me not to comply. “We don’t get the cheerleaders since they’re off at the baseball or football games, which means you’re in charge of morale out in the stands. Is that understood?”

I nod in agreement, and he moves his thumb up and down to get me moving.

“Let’s see who I’m talking to,” he says.

I pull off the costume’s head with a raised eyebrow, and he blinks slowly at me. My hair is pinned back in braids, my face is bare of makeup, which means that my bruises are on display.

I didn’t want to bother with it tonight.

“You’re the new girl,” he says softly. “I heard about what happened to you. Will you be alright to be out there today? I don’t think I’d let my kid ever go back to school after that shit.”

“Ah, yeah,” I say self consciously. “I might need to gauge how tonight goes since I have POTS and my blood pressure can get wonky.”

“Then I’ll tell you what I tell every new mascot. I want you to take a break after every period. During the longer break, come out at the end to skate,” he says. “Can you skate?”

“I can,” I reassure him. “These are mine.”

He takes the bag and checks them, nodding as he finishes inspecting them.

“Okay, I’ll keep them where they can’t be tampered with,” he says. “Make sure to hydrate after each period, there’s water and protein bars over here.”

Coach Helm shows me where I can find things to drink in their small fridge, and the stash of protein bars as well.

“We have some kids with allergies, so if you have any intolerances, this is where you’ll find those snacks,” Coach Helm says sternly. “If you feel faint and think something sour or sweet will help, please grab something. Basically, take care of yourself.”

“Thank you,” I say with a small smile. It’s nice to not be told to just suck it up for once.

“It’s called human decency,” he grunts. “We burn a lot of calories on the ice, which is why players consume a lot of carbs during the season. In the same way, you’re going to burn through a lot of spoons out in those stands.”

I blink at his words in surprise, but he just shrugs.