Mimi is a story about doing your best, inspired by a young girl named Michelle, who skated for the Wolverines during the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. It was written by Jackie Arnold after watching Michelle during a practice race.

MIMI

By Jackie Smith Arnold

Mimi appeared delicate alongside the other racers toeing the narrow black line painted on the golden-yellow hardwood of the cavernous roller rink.  Pinned to the back of her lavender stretch top, a black number seven printed on a square of yellow silk matched her age exactly.  She stood a head shorter and at least ten pounds lighter than the smallest of the other five boys and two girls who awaited the POP of the starting pistol.

Mimi pranced like a skittish colt alternately stabbing the floor with the bulbous black toestops of her white ankle-high skates and bouncing flat-footed in a tightly circumscribed circle.  When she assumed the starting stance, the black stitching on her second-skin purple spandex shorts curved into a tight horizontal U.  She nervously wiped sweaty palms across her skinny chest.

The announcer’s baritone floated over the loudspeaker, intoning the rules, naming the officials, and introducing the competitors.  The skaters immediately straightened themselves into a line to rival the precision of Parisian can-can dancers.  Mimi stuffed a strand of butterscotch hair into the confines of her black and white plastic helmet and adjusted the shiny encumbrance more firmly on her skull.  Her lapis lazuli blue eyes darted right and left noting the readiness of the competitors to either side.  She flicked a quick glance to the packed grandstands where her mini-skirted mother perched on the edge of a hard plank.  Mimi wiggled her fingers in a private salute.

POP! 

         Mimi propelled forward like a midget shot from a circus cannon.  The stringy muscles of her spindly legs tightened and released energy.  Her arms pumped in a smooth steady rhythm like oiled pistons in a finely tooled machine.  Her elfin face contorted, lips forced into a grotesque grin as she strove to maintain a comfortable beginning position near the center of the pack.  One lap became two and gave way to three. 

         Mimi sped on.  Suddenly, Number Five, the largest boy, fell right in front of her!  Mimi coiled into a tight ball, pressing her calves against her thighs, heels to bony buttocks she cleared his sprawled legs with half an inch to spare.  Landing with a plop, her arms wide for balance, she adjusted her stance to make up for precious lost time.

All at once Mimi challenged the leader, a tall slender girl who had earlier taunted Mimi’s lack of stature.  Mimi’s legs alternately thrust forward, pushed back, elbows jutting ceiling-ward and fists pummeling the wind generated by her motion.  Mimi, Mimi, Mimi…the crowd’s roar sounded like a cyclone loosed upon the land.

The raucous caw of the final buzzer sounded. Mimi completed the deciding lap a millisecond too late.  A collective groan escaped three hundred throats. But, Mimi’s face glowed like a thousand-watt bulb.  Her gap-toothed grin lit up the rink. 

         She stabbed the air with her fists as if to say, “I did it.  I did my best.”