Double Dutch (7 page)

Miss Benson tried to redirect their discussion. “Without adults,” she began, “the children in this book turn to fear and violence. Jack and his hunters take over.”

“See, Yolanda!” Randy said gleefully. “One of these days you're gonna go too far! Gonna have us all hunting each other!”

Yolanda turned her chair so her back faced Randy. She pretended she had not heard him. Jesse laughed and looked at Yolanda with eyes of admiration. Delia said nothing, but listened carefully and remembered everything.

Jesse announced with authority, “Seems to me that things got really bad for them 'cause they couldn't figure out what was true and what was just a nightmare. Bunch of little kids running around so scared, they got things really messed up. Seems dumb to me.”

Miss Benson sighed and tried once more to get the group back on track. “Here's an idea for your group project,” she suggested. “Why don't you do something on truth and fear? Use ideas from the novel, but make it apply to the world we live in today.”

Jesse raised his hand. “Miss Benson, I know what we can do. How about if we do a skit on modern-day fears and lies?”

Delia immediately liked Jesse's idea. It would be fun,
easy, and involved no reading. “And I'll draw a poster to go along with it,” she volunteered.

“And I'll do one on lies,” Yolanda said with a grin.

“Good choice,” Randy teased.

“This sounds wonderful,” Miss Benson said. “Get busy.” She moved on to the next group, who wanted to make their project a quiz show using questions about the book, and the next group, who wanted to bring squirt guns to class to demonstrate violence. That one she rejected—loudly and emphatically. Delia noticed that she never did get back to the Tollivers to ask them what type of project they would do.

T
HAT EVENING AT
D
OUBLE
D
UTCH PRACTICE
Y
OLANDA AND
Delia sat on the sidelines, waiting their turn while the Little Bees jumped. Charlene and Misty sat on a bench behind them. It was hot in the gym, but Yolanda had on a heavy warm-up with a hood.

“Why you dressed like that, girl?” Delia asked.

“I saw on TV last night that satellites out in space can see everything you do. I'm dressed in disguise just in case somebody from another country is planning to steal my moves as I jump. I'm a national treasure, you know.”

“You're a trip, Yo Yo.” Delia laughed as she tied the laces on her tennis shoes.

“That's your life story, Yo Yo,” Charlene added. “I'll never forget that time in sixth grade when you made that substitute think you were dying. Ketchup all on your clothes. Looked real for a minute.” Charlene laughed, remembering the look on the substitute's face when she saw what she thought was blood.

Yolanda cracked up and screeched in a voice imitating the unfortunate sub, “Oh, my STARS!” Yolanda laughed so hard, she had to bend over. “Then she fainted, poor dear. The principal had to call the life squad. That was TOO funny!”

“That was cold, Yo Yo,” Charlene said, still laughing. “That woman never came back after that day.”

“It wasn't my fault!” Yolanda said. “The woman couldn't handle kids. I probably saved her life!”

“Double Dutch saved my life,” Misty said quietly.

“How you mean?” Yolanda asked, her laughter stilled by Misty's voice. She pushed back the hood of her jacket and turned to face Misty.

“Nothing,” Misty replied, suddenly embarrassed. But as the girls continued to stare at her, she went on. “It's just that Double Dutch is always there for me—my daddy's dead, my mama isn't able to work since she was in that car accident, and I got four little sisters to look out for, but Double Dutch gives me something to hold on to. Something good. I used to get really bad grades, but now, since I gotta have good grades to stay on the team, I got a reason to keep going.” She bent down to tie her shoes, her cheeks flushed.

“I feel ya,” Delia said, nodding her head, sensing Misty's discomfort. “Double Dutch even got me a good grade once in a class in school.”

“Yeah,” continued Yolanda. “Last year in social studies, when we had to do a stupid project on American cultural practices, me and Delia and Charlene did a class presentation on Double Dutch.”

“Talk about an easy A!” Delia chuckled. “Ooh! That was dynamite! I wish all school projects were so much fun.”

Charlene laughed. “Yeah, I remember that backwards flip you did into the ropes, Yolanda. You coulda broke your neck, doin' that fancy jump in that small space.”

“Yeah, but she didn't,” Delia reminded Charlene. “I
gotta give her credit—the girl is good. You looked like sliced ice that day-really slick, Yo Yo.”

“I always look good when I flip,” said Yolanda, who had removed her heavy jacket. “I still have the written report. I think I'll save it so I can use it again. I did a report on snakes in fifth grade. I've used it, with a few improvements, every year since then in science class. The teachers never know.”

“Isn't that cheating?” asked Delia.

“Look who's talkin',” Yolanda replied with a sharp glance at Delia.

“I don't need no written report-I got it memorized,” Delia said, glancing at Yolanda.

“You do not!” Misty challenged. “Dollar bet says you can't recite all that stuff.”

“I have a photographic memory, dahling,” Delia said with a voice like a movie star. “Make your bet a pizza and you're on!” She grinned at Charlene and Yo Yo.

“You got it! I don't believe you can do it!”

“You better hope Bomani gets here soon, Misty. Delia can memorize anything,” Yolanda warned. Misty ignored her and waited for Delia to begin.

Delia grinned and took a deep breath. She spoke like a newscaster reading the news. “‘Double Dutch is a jump rope sport that involves two rope turners turning two ropes in an eggbeater motion around one or two jumpers. Double Dutch requires an intricate display of skill, agility, and strength. It encourages creativity, teamwork, and sportsmanship, and develops physical fitness and mental discipline.'”

Charlene and Yolanda were rolling on the floor. Misty
stood with her mouth agape as Delia continued in her news reporter voice, this time holding her nose to make her voice sound artificial.

“‘The sport,'” she continued, now prancing down the sidelines, “‘believed to have originated with ancient Egyptian, Phoenician, and Chinese rope makers, has grown in popularity as a competitive sport. The American Double Dutch League was officially organized in nineteen seventy-three by two New York City police detectives.' Cops! Can you believe it?” she added in amazement.

Returning to her fake newscaster's voice, she continued. “‘On Valentine's Day in nineteen seventy-four, the first Double Dutch tournament was held in New York City. Almost nine hundred children competed. Today in the U.S. more than one hundred thousand athletes nationwide and in foreign countries participate in Double Dutch programs for the chance to compete in the World Invitational Championships for honor and for scholarships.'” Delia paused, took her hand off her nose, and took a deep breath. “Want more?” she asked, laughing.

Yolanda said, “I told you so!”

Misty laughed and said, “You win! How do you remember all that stuff?”

Delia's smile faded. “Just smart, I guess. I don't know. Stuff just sticks.” She sighed. Why was she so smart in some ways and so dumb in others?

Bomani arrived, as large and cheerful as ever, and announced, “Jumpers, are you ready? Let's begin this practice! Break into three groups. Group One-in the front of the gym. You know the routine. Everybody hop to it! Let me hear you shout it out!”

The gym echoed with the chants of three dozen jumpers as they began the first compulsory jumps.

“One-TWO
One-TWO/Three-FOUR!/Five-SIX/Seven-EIGHT
One-TWO.”

Bomani then cried, “Okay! Let's try a couple of speed tests, jumpers! Two minutes on the clock, Randy. Little ones, take your time. Accuracy is as important as speed. Remember, you get ten points taken off your jump score every time you miss, so take your time and concentrate. Ready, Little Bees? Ready, Junior Bees? Ready, my Queen Bees?” They all signaled that they were ready. “Randy, hit it!” The gym resounded with the sounds of dozens of synchronized tapping feet.

Bomani gave them all a short break, then regrouped everyone into practice teams so they could work on individual skills for the various events. He walked over to Delia and the Queen Bees. “Let's work on the doubles freestyle first tonight, ladies. That's going to be key at the state meet. Misty, Charlene? Are you ready?”

As Delia and Yolanda turned the ropes while Misty and Charlene did the doubles routine, Delia watched Misty closely and admired her even more.
Nothing is really as it seems,
she thought as the ropes twisted in her hands.

After two hours of drills, timed practices, and jumping techniques, Bomani blew his whistle and told them all to take
a break, get some water, and come back for a short team meeting. He gave Randy two stacks of typed sheets to pass out—one with information about the state and national tournaments that were coming up soon, as well as information about practices and local competitions for the next month. The other sheet concerned the new eligibility rules for eighth-grade Double Dutch competitors. Delia glanced at them, carelessly stuffed them into her gym bag, and began to stretch her legs while Bomani went over the highlights of the information on the sheets. The younger girls asked a million silly questions, but Bomani was patient and answered every one.

“Will they have bathrooms at the other gym?”

“Yes, DeLisa. They have very nice bathrooms at that gym.”

“Do we take our ropes, or do we have to use their tricky ropes, like the ones that made me fall last time?”

“I'm sure it was that rope's fault that you fell, Shantelle. We'll take our own ropes just to make sure you come in first place.” Bomani chuckled, then looked directly at Delia, Yolanda, Misty, and Charlene. His smile faded. “If you have read the green sheet Randy just handed you,” he began, “you can see that the school board and the state Double Dutch association have agreed that all eighth-grade jumpers must pass the proficiency tests in order to continue their eligibility for ninth grade. I'm sure that will be no problem, because I know all of you are good students. I just wanted to let you know it's official.”

Delia felt her breath catch in her chest.

Yolanda touched her gently. “It will be okay, Delia. We'll figure something out.” The rest of the girls were packing up and getting ready to go home.

“I'm dumb as a rock,” Delia said to the floor.

“Quit talking like that!” Yolanda fired back. “You always get good grades on projects and stuff.”

“That's 'cause I always volunteer to do oral reports or art displays or science experiments while everybody else looks up stuff in the encyclopedia,” Delia explained glumly.

“You do pretty well on tests, too,” Yolanda continued. “Even math.”

“That's 'cause I'm the best guesser in the world! Math is no problem as long as it's only numbers. But the word problems? Forget it! I just skip them and hope I've got enough right on the other parts to get by.”

Yolanda thought out loud, “I wonder why doing numbers and figuring math out is easy for you, but reading words is so hard.”

“My brain is fried. That's why,” Delia replied morosely.

“It is not! Don't talk about yourself like that,” Yolanda said sharply. “But what are you going to do about the stupid state test? Part of it is reading, and part of it is essay. Only a small part is multiple choice.”

“I don't know. Mostly I write teeny-tiny, with a ball-point pen that's almost out of ink. It's just about impossible to read, and most teachers give up after a while and pass me 'cause I'm nice in class. I'm sure they don't try to read it. But I can't pull that kind of stuff on the graders for the state test. I sure can't fool them with an oral report on the movie version of a book.”

“Not likely.”

“And if I fail the state test-”

“You fail eighth grade,” Yolanda continued for her, her voice sounding pained. “And if you fail eighth grade—”

“Everybody will think I'm stupid. And everybody will find out I can't read.”

“Even worse—”

“I won't be allowed to be in Double Dutch anymore!”

“And if you can't jump-”

“I'll just die!” Delia sighed as she stuffed her towel and water bottle into her gym bag. “My mom's here. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Yo Yo.”

Yolanda, for once, had nothing to say. “Peace,” she called quietly as Delia headed toward the door.

R
ANDY DRAGGED INTO HIS HOUSE, TIRED AND HUNGRY
. H
E
looked around hopefully, but nothing had changed. No duffel bag on the floor and no smell of his dad's spaghetti bubbling on the stove. Randy was so disappointed, he felt ill. He was sick of thinking about the Tollivers, sick of homework assignments, and sick of coming home to an empty house.

“Where are you, Dad?” Randy said to the walls. “And why haven't you called?” He threw himself on the sofa but did not turn on the television this time. “No telling who I'll see on there,” he muttered.

The cat jumped on the sofa, looking for bologna or whatever leftovers Randy might offer, but seeing nothing, she curled up on Randy's chest and looked at him with bright, unblinking eyes.

As the cat purred on his chest, Randy stroked her back and sighed as he thought about his situation. His money was getting tight. His dad had given him fifty dollars when he left, and reminded Randy about the four hundred dollars they kept hidden in the shoe box in the bottom of the closet for emergencies. Randy couldn't believe that the rent and the phone bill had eaten up most of the money already, and he knew he didn't have enough left to pay the electric bill. At least the days were getting longer.