What do you think?
Rate this book


336 pages, Hardcover
Published November 18, 2025
Thank you to Penguin Teen for the gifted copy of Leave It on the Track by Margot Fisher. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
Leave It on the Track is a heartfelt YA debut about grief, anxiety, and queer first love, anchored by roller derby and the messy, slow work of rebuilding a life after everything changes.
Morgan “Moose” Shaker is carrying an unbearable amount of loss, and what I appreciated most is that this book doesn’t treat grief like something you “get over.” It’s something you learn to live around. There’s a metaphor Moose’s therapist shares that really stuck with me: grief as a ball inside a box. Over time the ball gets smaller and hits the sides less often, but it never fully disappears. That image felt painfully accurate, and it captures the tone of this story perfectly.
The character work is a big strength here. Moose is a compelling lead, but the people around her matter too: Eden, Mercury, Carmen, her teammates and coaches. Some characters felt a bit shallow at times, but even then, they still contributed something meaningful to Moose’s growth. I especially liked watching how roller derby becomes both an outlet and a bridge for her, not just into community, but into a deeper relationship with her sister and into a version of herself that feels more grounded.
I know essentially nothing about roller derby, so I can’t speak to the accuracy of the mechanics, but the action scenes were written clearly enough that I could visualize what was happening without feeling lost or overwhelmed by jargon. The author’s experience in the sport comes through in the confidence of those sequences, and it made the derby scenes feel like a real, lived-in part of the story rather than a backdrop.
I also thought the anxiety and panic representation was well done. The way panic attacks manifest for Moose, especially layered with fresh grief and huge life changes, felt realistic and compassionate. The book makes room for how scary and frustrating that can be, without reducing Moose to only her worst moments.
One of my favorite parts is the way the story handles queer community and found family. Moose’s move from Utah to Portland doesn’t magically solve everything, but it does open up space for her to see queerness reflected back to her in a way she hasn’t experienced before. The representation feels thoughtful, both in terms of the queer cast and the mental health elements.
Is this a world-changing read for me personally? No. But it is a genuinely beautiful one, and I can absolutely see it landing hard for young queer readers, and for any teen navigating grief for the first time. It’s tender, funny in the right places, and ultimately hopeful without pretending healing is linear.