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Keisha stared at her plate. Mentioning jump rope practice had made her lose her appetite. It was a big year for the Grand River Steppers jump rope team. Coach Rose called Keisha and her best friends, Aaliyah and Wen, the backbone of the team, as the oldest and most experienced jumpers. This year, they had a chance to win first place in their school district, which meant they would go to the district regionals in Detroit! And the team would stay overnight in the Renaissance Center hotel. The Steppers team went six
years ago and they stayed on the sixty-fifth floor. They could see Canada!

Keisha and her friends had never stayed in the Renaissance Center hotel before. Marcus, Jorge, Zeke and Zack had all tried out for the team just in case they won a chance to go. Marcus and Jorge made the team because they’d both been in boxing club over the summer, so they were already good speed jumpers. Zeke and Zack Sanders didn’t make the team. They were twins, and Grandma said one got both left feet and the other got both right feet. But Mama said not to repeat that.

Everyone agreed single freestyle was the hardest event, but Keisha loved it because you got to do dancing
and
gymnastics while you jumped rope. In freestyle, jumpers worked hard to make tricks look easy. Good freestylers could flow between one trick and the next, making as few mistakes as possible. Keisha loved the creative part of designing freestyle routines and picking out the dance music. It was
so
much better than boring speed jumping, which she usually placed in, too (though Aaliyah always beat her).

Last year at their school district tournament, she’d been the top placer in single freestyle. That was why Coach Rose had high hopes for Keisha in fifth grade.

But the more people talked about how good she was,
the more uncomfortable she felt. The point was Keisha didn’t
want
to be the backbone! She wanted to be the pinky finger.

She watched Razi happily tip-tapping in his chair, licking his fingers like a cat.

Oh, to be in first grade again and not care whether you messed up or not.

In their last meet, against Cesar Chavez Elementary, Keisha had messed up twice during speed jumping and twice during her freestyle routine. Even though she jumped alone, her score counted toward the team’s total points. Coach Rose had patted her on the back and told her it was okay, everybody had a bad day. But Keisha knew she’d let the team down. The problem was, she jumped fine in practice. She knew her routine in her sleep, but in front of all those people …

“Razi, do you ever get scared when you are up on stage?”

Razi stopped licking. “No! I like it. Wanna see my kabibble?” He jumped down from his chair and stood in front of Keisha, his shoulders back and his chin high. “Ms. Allen and Ms. Perry say you have to smile the whole time.” Razi put on a big smile. He started moving his feet … slowly at first, then faster and faster. His feet were all over the place, but the top of his body stayed still. Keisha watched her little brother, her chin resting
on her fist. She wondered how a kabibble would look in a freestyle routine.

“Want to see a ‘kabibble’?” Keisha asked her friends Wen and Aaliyah that afternoon at the end of practice.

“Kabibble?” Wen pushed herself up. They’d been lying on the mats like a bunch of rag dolls, breathing hard because they’d just practiced their speed jumping.

“It looks something like this.” Keisha stood and tried to imitate the step-tap combination Razi was doing that morning. “I was thinking …” She grabbed a jump rope. Instead of swinging it the way she did to jump, she kept the two ends in one hand and slapped the rope on the floor as she tried to imitate Razi’s dance step. This was how the girls invented new moves for freestyle jumping.

Aaliyah stood up, too. She held out her hand to Wen and pulled her to her feet. The girls watched Keisha for a moment, trying to memorize the step. Keisha could get in a step and a tap between every
fwap
of the jump rope.

As the girls experimented, Coach Rose walked through the gym, talking to each team member about what they needed to focus on for their upcoming meet against C. A. Frost Elementary.

“Wen, have you been using that new wrist action we talked about?” Coach Rose made twirling motions with his fists.

“Trying.” Everyone knew how hard it was to change the way you jumped. Coach Rose was working with Wen to better her speed-jumping times. “I start out doing it the way you showed me, but once I get going, I forget.”

“Practice it in your head. You’ll make the transition. Your feet are faster than your hands, and it should be the other way around. Oh, and, Keisha …”

Keisha twisted the ends of her jump rope, waiting. “Have you tried that synchronized breathing technique I taught you?”

Keisha nodded her head “yes,” but she didn’t look at Coach Rose.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He tilted Keisha’s chin up so that they were looking at each other. “Everyone messes up, Keisha. Synchronizing your breath to your steps will help you focus on the job at hand … not on being nervous.”

Keisha swallowed hard.
If only people didn’t talk about it so much!

“Don’t worry, Key.” Wen patted Keisha’s back after Coach Rose left them. “You never had trouble before this year. You’ll get your groove back.”

Even Grandma had to bring it up. After practice, she and Keisha took the number 17 bus over to the Mt. Mercy campus. Mt. Mercy was the biggest piece of “not city” in the city—even bigger than Riverside Park—so the Carters often got calls about wild animals from people who lived next to the campus. The grounds were filled with beautiful old trees of all kinds—black walnuts, elms, sugar maples. The Carter family had picnics there at least once every spring and fall, when the leaves looked their prettiest.

“So did you get those problems with your routine all fixed up?”

“Grandma, there’s no problem with my routine. The only problem was that I messed up.”

“I don’t know if I would go so far as tha—”

Keisha stared out the window. “I got tangled twice during speed jumping and twice during my freestyle routine. I could do that routine in my sleep in fourth grade!”

“Keisha. Sweetie … take a cleansing breath.” Grandma inhaled deeply, pressing her back into the bus seat and exhaling noisily through her nose. A lady with
a shopping bag full of groceries on her lap turned to stare.

“Grandma, people are looking.”

“Well then, let them learn something about the importance of the breath. Deep cleansing breath in …” Grandma blew out again … just as noisily. “Five … six … seven … releasing the tension … letting go of all the nervous energy …”

Keisha gave a big smile to the lady with the groceries before taking her own cleansing breath. Fortunately, they had reached the bus stop at the entrance to the college. Keisha pulled the wire to let the driver
know they wanted to get off. “We’re here, Grandma. Mama said to go to the administration building.”

After they got off, Keisha tucked her chin into her jacket and studied the campus map mounted at the entrance.

Grandma scooped up handfuls of snow and tossed them over her head. “Look, Keisha! We’re in a blizzard!”

Even though Keisha got chilled easily, the fluffy flakes were hard to resist. She plowed through a big drift of snow with Grandma right behind her.

“Would you like a snow cupcake?” Grandma asked, holding out a handful of snow.

“No, I think I would like a snow cone, please.”

Grandma dropped the snow and grabbed another handful. “We’re fresh out of snow cones, but today’s special is a something-rather-new stew simmered slowly in my snow-cooker.”

“That would be fine.”

They
shush
ed along through the drifts until they came to the sign for the administration offices. Keisha and Grandma looked up at the tall brick building.

“It’s like a gingerbread house with snow frosting,” Grandma said.

Grandma and Keisha brushed each other off and
stomped the snow off their boots. Just as they were getting clean enough to go in, a big pile of snow fell out of the sky onto their heads.

“Vera Wang dang-doodle,” Grandma said, peering up at the roof. “You’re crushing my updo!”

“Uh, sorry about that. I usually shout ‘Man overboard!’ so folks know to get out of the way.”

Keisha looked up to see a man in a knit hat with a pair of bushy eyebrows peering over the edge of the roof.

“Roof needs to stay clear so we don’t get an ice jam up here,” he called down to them. “But I have strict orders not to douse the pedestrians. Do you need assistance? I can come down … take you to the cafeteria and buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Just look before you sweep next time!” Grandma called back. “You might douse an old lady!”

“Like I said, sorry about that.”

Grandma and Keisha swatted the snow off each other for the second time before entering the old building. No one was sitting at the reception desk.

Grandma knocked on the molding. “I wonder if anybody’s home,” she said. “It’s only four-thirty. I can’t imagine they’ve closed up yet.”

As if in answer to her question, an older woman in a business suit appeared in one of the doorways, a large
purse dangling from her arm. She looked in their direction but did not seem to see them. Then she began digging in her purse.

“Excuse me. We’re here to see Mr. Fox,” Grandma said. “Could you point the way?”

“Oh dear. I can do better than that. I’ll show you. I’m going just that way. It seems I’ve misplaced my wallet again, and I may have left it in the copy room. I’m Sister Mary-Lee. How do you do?”

Keisha shook Sister Mary-Lee’s hand. If Sister was a nun, why wasn’t she wearing a …?

“The nuns here are Dominicans, dear. We don’t wear the habit at Mt. Mercy.” Sister Mary-Lee had a nice smile. “If that answers your question.”

Keisha wondered if Sister Mary-Lee could read her mind.

“Are you interested in employment opportunities with us?” she asked Grandma as they proceeded down the hall.

“Not exactly,” Grandma said as Sister Mary-Lee pushed the button for the elevator. “We’re here to fire some squirrels.”

“Those poor squirrels. I don’t know how they’re going to make it through the winter with the new rules in place.”

“What new rules?” Keisha asked.

“Why, the memo came from the president himself. Students, faculty and staff were ordered to stop feeding the squirrels.” She leaned down and whispered in Keisha’s ear. “We were
asked
to stop feeding them last summer when Campus Safety began getting complaints that squirrels were harassing the students for food.” Sister Mary-Lee straightened up. “The president will not tolerate emboldened squirrels.”

The elevator stopped and Sister Mary-Lee stepped out first. “This way, ladies. Mr. Fox’s office is next to the copy room.”

As they walked down the narrow hall, a man rushed out of an open office door. “Melissa, I need those rejection letters! My phone won’t stop ringing. This is what happens when you get four hundred applicants for a part-time posi— Oh …”

The man saw Grandma, Keisha and Sister Mary-Lee. He tugged on the waistband of his pants and tucked in the tail of his shirt. He was tall, with a shiny bald head covered in freckles. “Hello … sorry about that. Busy day.”

“They’re here to help with the squirrels,” Sister Mary-Lee said. “You haven’t happened to see my—”

“It’s in my top desk drawer,” said a young lady in a flowy skirt and ballet slippers who appeared in another doorway. She handed a stack of papers to Mr. Fox. “I
found it by the coffeemaker,” she said, smiling at Keisha and Grandma. “I’m Melissa.”

“The coffeemaker?” Sister Mary-Lee looked once again into her purse, as if it held the answer to the mystery of her missing wallet. “I thought I left it by the copier. Hmmm …”

“It was open. My guess is you were contributing to the coffee fund. But all’s well that ends well,” Melissa said. She turned to Mr. Fox. “Good luck with the squirrels.” Melissa touched her fingers to her mouth to cover her smile. “I’m sure your five o’clock appointment will be here shortly.”

“Very funny,” Mr. Fox replied to Melissa’s back as she disappeared into her office. “Ladies, please come in.”

Keisha had to press by Grandma to sit in one of the two chairs across from Mr. Fox’s desk. He had a corner office. It was small, but it felt big because it had two windows that looked out over the trees and a courtyard garden. In the late-afternoon sun, Keisha could see the shapes of the statues covered in sparkly snow.

“Thank you for coming, ladies. Here’s the 411.” Mr. Fox sat down at his desk and adjusted the seat height. First he sank low, then he popped up so that his legs were stuck under the desk. “Darn thing,” he said, more to himself than to Grandma and Keisha. “So …” He folded his hands and looked at them both, frowning.
“We have a lot of trees around here. And trees make nuts. And nuts bring squirrels. And to top it off, well-meaning people like our friend Sister Mary-Lee feed the birds and the squirrels and the chipmunks, too. So, what has happened over the years—”