Double Dutch Page 4

  More of the other jumpers had started to arrive and were stretching their legs, getting ready for the next couple of hours of practice and competition. Randy took attendance, collected money from the fourth- and fifth-grade girls who had sold candy as a fund-raiser, and checked the buzzing timers for their timed jumps. Charlene and Yo Yo followed him around, chattering and giggling about the ropes and school yesterday and why Bomani, their coach, was always late.

  “He’s late ’cause he knows he’s got me to get things set up. All he needs to do is yell at you and get you through this competition. I don’t care to do that. I’m the setup man. Then I got the best job in the world. I get to sit back and watch a bunch of girls jump for two hours. Sweet.”

  Delia watched it all from the corner of the gym, wishing she could be like Yo Yo and Charlene and be silly around Randy.

  Bomani arrived, late as usual. Everything about him was huge. His hands could almost encircle a basketball. His broad shoulders supported bulging muscles—from years of work at a lumber company. Delia thought he looked like something out of one of those bodybuilding magazines. He made Randy look like a baby chicken. In spite of his bulk, however, Bomani could jump as swiftly and deftly as any fourth grader. He didn’t do it often, but everyone at least once had seen him outjump a tired or lazy twelve-year-old and shame her into jumping faster and cleaner.

  Bomani strode into the center of the gym, blew his whistle, and said, “Let’s get started! Today we’ll pick the jumpers who will compete in the state tournament. Third and fourth graders, get ready for your singles compulsory jumps, speed test, and freestyle jumps. We’ll do two grades at a time. Fifth and sixth graders, get ready—you’re up next! When we’ve gone through eighth grade and the high school division, we’ll do the whole thing over for the doubles teams. Jumpers, are you ready?”

  The tension in the small gym sizzled like dangling electric lines—hot and fiery. Lots of parents sat in the stands, watching and cheering as the various groups and teams filled the floor with the confusion that only an organized sports event can produce.

  Everyone found their places, and the younger girls began the familiar jumps and twirls. Delia watched with admiration as the little ones jumped with such intensity. The third graders were cute and surprisingly capable.

  “Look at that sweet little baby jumper over there,” she said, nudging Yolanda as she pointed to a third grader with big eyes and bulging cheeks. “Look at her face—poor kid is going to explode if she doesn’t breathe!”

  Yolanda laughed. “Yeah, I remember being that nervous when I was little. And look at the new uniforms that the kids from downtown have this year—they look good!”

  Delia nodded and grinned, but said nothing, satisfied to breathe deeply of the tension and the glory of that dirty old gym and the expectant jumpers that filled it.

  When the time came for the eighth-grade singles teams to jump, Delia, Charlene, and Yolanda knew they were ready. Delia jumped the compulsory round, never missing a step. For the speed jump, Delia and Yolanda turned while Charlene powered her legs with almost blinding speed, never stopping to glance at the clock, concentrating only on the rhythm of the ropes. She whispered, “YES!” as the judges announced that her score was a dynamite 375. Delia and Yolanda hugged her with glee as she bounded off to the sidelines. “Beat THAT!” she mouthed with a smile across the gym to Jackie, who grinned back.

  Delia glanced up into the stands, looking to see if her mother had been able to take the day off to come and watch, when she noticed the shadowy figures of the Tolliver twins sitting at the top of the bleachers. Both wore dark sunglasses. Delia shuddered, as if a cold breeze had blown against her sweaty body, and she looked away. She refused to let anyone interrupt her focus today.

  The singles freestyle routine was the most challenging and the one that Delia liked the best. It was always the very last event for the singles competitions. She and Yolanda and Charlene had practiced their routine for hours to make it smooth as ice, adding leaps and twists and special dance movements. They were ready.

  Delia and Charlene held the ropes wide and low while Yolanda entered the ropes with a back flip. Sometimes she jumped in doing a leapfrog over Delia’s head. It took perfect timing and flexibility. Charlene and Delia moved the ropes low and slowly, never taking their eyes off Yolanda, who switched off in the middle and took the ropes from Delia, who then became the jumper. Delia liked to jump in with a hand flip and bounce. It was like an intricate dance with ropes and legs and jumping bodies. The three girls switched turners in the middle of a jump, did flips and somersaults, and ended it effortlessly in a clean, precise landing to the cheers of the people in the stands. Delia beamed with exultation as the three of them took their seats with the rest of their team. They knew they had done well.

  After a short break, Bomani blew his whistle and announced, “Okay, it’s time to do it once more, jumpers, but this time it’s the doubles competition. We’ll do compulsory doubles first, then the doubles time test, and finally, doubles freestyle. Third- and fourth-grade teams, get into place. Judges, get ready.” The steps for the doubles compulsory routine were the same as for the singles, but two girls jumped together in unison, and the time was increased from thirty seconds to forty.

  Misty, an eighth grader from another school, was the fourth on Delia’s doubles team. She was a powerful jumper with strong legs and thick thigh muscles-absolutely essential when they did speed jumps. She was the final jumper in the doubles speed jump, where one jumper entered the ropes and jumped for fifty-five seconds, then the second jumper jumped the remainder of the two-minute test. They could always depend on Misty to catch up on any lost time or misses. She could do three hundred jumps easy, and often did more.

  The buzzer sounded, and the doubles speed competition began for eight-year-olds. Two minutes. Two turners. Two jumpers. Double rhythms whipping together on the gym floor. Parents and other volunteers who worked with the teams stood on the gym floor near each team, clickers in hand, counting the number of times that the left foot of each jumper hit the floor in a two-minute period. The little girls tripped on the ropes occasionally, but the look on their faces was that of absolute determination and concentration.

  When it was time for the Queen Bees, Delia jumped in easily, then, head down, knees bent, arms raised to her waist, she began the steady rhythm of the jump. Raising her palm to the ceiling was a signal to Charlene and Yolanda to increase the speed of their turns. Fifty-five seconds later, Misty jumped in as Delia jumped out, Misty’s feet matching Delia’s steps exactly.

  Charlene and Yo Yo turned in perfect rhythm with Misty as she peppered the floor with her steps, her arms spinning with the ropes. The girls shouted encouragement as they jumped.

  “Go, girl! Pick your feet up! Pick your feet up!”

  “Concentrate! Concentrate!”

  “You got it! You got it!”

  “Thirty seconds! This is it!”

  “Faster!” yelled Yolanda. “Faster!” Misty’s strong brown legs darted in and out of the ropes as they turned so fast they were spinning shadows, whipping dust as she swiftly and skillfully skipped in and out of the intricate pattern, the rapid sounds of her tennis shoes on the floor of the gym beating in perfect harmony to the drumbeat of the ropes.

  The buzzer sounded—like a sheep in pain, as Yolanda had once described it—and Misty jumped nimbly out of the ropes. “How’d we do?” Misty asked the judge who had been timing them.

  “Four hundred! Excellent!” the judge said with encouragement.

  Delia glanced across the gym at Shana and Jackie. Shana waved and gave a thumbs-up sign that let Delia know that they, too, had done well. Looking into the stands again, Delia finally saw her mother, as well as the twins, who had not moved from their perch at the top.

  “Did you see who’s here?” Delia whispered to Yolanda. “The Tollivers.”

  Yolanda glanced at the two and waved. If they saw her, they did not indicate it. “Let ‘em look!” she sa
id as she put on fresh lipstick. “I hope they like what they see!”

  “You’re crazy,” Delia muttered. “I gotta keep my focus here.”

  They finished the eighth-grade doubles freestyle competition. Delia and her team did well, but they made a couple of careless mistakes—not enough to eliminate them, but enough to make them realize they were not invincible.

  After a short meeting of the judges, the teams for the state finals were announced. “I can’t believe we got picked,” Misty exclaimed.

  “I knew we would. We’re bad!” Delia said with confidence.

  “Hey! Shana and Jackie’s team is going on to State too,” Yolanda said as their team was announced.

  “You know, lots of kids get to go to the State finals,” Delia commented. “The city competition isn’t nearly as fierce as the larger meets. We’re gonna have to watch out.”

  “Well, I’m glad that everybody gets to go to Columbus—even the kids that didn’t quite make the cut this year,” Yolanda said as she packed her gym bag.

  “Yeah, I feel ya,” Delia replied. “It’s fun being at tournaments and cheering for everybody. It’s the team that counts.”

  The gym emptied quickly after the results were announced. The Tollivers were nowhere to be seen. Delia felt charged and exultant, but she was tired. She was ready to get out of there and go home. She glanced at Randy, who was collecting all the ropes, putting them in the lockers, and straightening up the gym. She watched while Charlene and Yolanda told him jokes, and decided to ignore them all as she hurried out of the gym and into her mother’s car after only brief good-byes.

  six

  DELIA, YOLANDA, AND CHARLENE SHIVERED IN THE EARLY March breeze on Monday morning, waiting for the first bell to ring.

  “I wish winter would hurry up and get out of here. I’m tired of bein’ cold,” Charlene complained in her thin white slacks and sleeveless blouse.

  “Maybe if you wore your winter coat, you wouldn’t be freezing your buns off,” Yolanda replied as she hugged herself in her heavy coat.

  “I’m tired of my winter coat, too!” Charlene laughed. “Cold weather is boring.”

  “Well, you can’t say it’s boring around here!” Delia declared. “You think today is the day the Tollivers are going to do something?”

  “Well, there’s lots of crazy stuff that’s been happening at other schools—shootings and killings and stuff. Scares me to death!”

  “Don’t say ‘death’—you’re freakin’ me out!” Yolanda exclaimed. “I’m scared enough already. You think they’ll kick them out of school?” Yolanda had made up no tales about the Tollivers today. The situation was much too tense.

  “Probably not. The twins haven’t done anything, except talk bad on a dumb TV show. They didn’t even threaten anybody,” Delia moaned. She saw Randy walk toward them, coming from the bus stop. “Hey, Randy, what’s up?”

  “Not much. Just the cold. And I’m hungry—I didn’t have time to eat breakfast. Any of you lovely ladies got any munchies?” He looked directly at Delia as he spoke.

  “So now we’re ‘lovely ladies,’ huh?” Charlene teased.

  Delia pulled a Twinkie out of her lunch bag. Randy grabbed it, and with his mouth full, said, “If you got food, you’re beautiful!” He smiled at her gratefully. The bell rang, and Charlene darted ahead of them to get into the warmth of the building before the others.

  When the Tolliver twins marched in together, everyone cleared a wide path for them in the hall. No one spoke to them or mentioned the TV show.

  “My mom told me the teachers met with the school board, the principal, their mother, and community leaders, but since the twins had really done nothing wrong, there was nothing legally that could be done,” Delia whispered to Charlene.

  “Yeah, I heard that the teachers were told that they had to let them go to class,” Charlene whispered back as the two boys passed by.

  The twins seemed to know that, and almost smiled as they dominated the halls.

  Yolanda, deliberately ignoring the Tollivers, asked Randy, “Your dad on the road again?” She dug in her book bag for a bag of potato chips to give him. “Must be cool to be a long-distance truck driver. You know, before he was an airplane pilot, my dad used to drive a—”

  “Don’t even start with that, Yolanda,” Randy said, interrupting her. “I got a headache and I don’t feel like listening to all that. But thanks for the chips.”

  Yolanda looked as if she was ready to say something, then she shrugged. “I’ll see you both in English. I gotta finish reading the next two chapters of Lord of the Flies. It’s pretty good.” She looked at Delia, as if to offer help if needed, but Delia, with just a slight movement, shook her head to say no. Yolanda disappeared into the crowded hallway.

  “You were jumping good on Saturday, Delia,” Randy said. “You’re dynamite on the speed jump.”

  “It makes me feel good when I jump—like I got power or something.”

  “Yeah, I feel ya. Like when I’m playing football and I make a tackle and the little voice from the box comes drifting over the field, ‘Tackle! Youngblood!’ And I feel like a million dollars. Which I could use right now,” he added with a sigh.

  “I remember your dad came to every single game you played this fall.”

  “Yeah, me and my dad are tight,” Randy said with a smile. “He fixed his driving schedule so he could be here to see me play. I kept telling him it was just a stupid junior high game, but he said if his boy was in it, it wasn’t stupid.”

  “It must be rough when he’s on the road. How long does he stay gone?” Delia asked as they walked to their lockers.

  “Oh, usually not more than two or three days. Sometimes, if he gets a special haul, like California, he might be gone for a week, but he tries not to do that. But he always leaves me food and money, and he calls me every night. We got it worked out.”

  “I admire you,” Delia said shyly. “I’d be scared to be at home alone.”

  “What’s to be scared of? Besides, I got my attack cat to protect me,” Randy said, laughing. “Home is safe. It’s school I’m scared of. Those Tollivers are some scary dudes!”

  “You got that right.” Delia shivered in spite of the warmth of the overheated halls.

  “I meant what I said the other night, Delia.” Randy was looking directly at her. “I’ll protect you.”

  Delia had to look away. She was trembling once more, but not from the cold, and not from fear. Randy’s voice made her shiver. She smiled at him. “Thanks, Randy. I’ll see you in English.” He grinned and disappeared up the steps to his next class. Delia glanced at herself in her locker mirror just before she closed the door. She was still smiling.

  During her first-bell math class, Delia listened to the buzz of whispers about the Tollivers and their television appearance. The twins arrived late to her math class, with a tardy slip from the office. They said nothing as they tossed the green slip of paper on Mr. Bernaldi’s desk. He glanced at them and continued his discussion of polynomials. Another teacher knocked on the door a few minutes later, and the two of them spoke in voices too low for the students to hear, but Delia could see Mr. Bernaldi glancing back at the Tolliver boys. The rest of the students took this brief respite from class to make their own whispered comments.

  “I heard they tried to suspend them, but they couldn’t.”

  “I heard the twins are really mad and are gonna get somebody.”

  Delia said nothing, but she peeked back at Tabu and Titan. They were looking out of the window, seeming to ignore the turmoil, but Delia had a feeling they were enjoying it.

  Mr. Bernaldi closed the door and returned to the front of the class. “Let’s get back to work, now. Delia, can you tell me the answer to number three?”

  Delia glanced at the problem. She thought for the hundredth time how easy math was for her, and wondered why reading was so impossible. “Seventeen,” she said with assurance.

  “Good job, Delia,” Mr. Bernaldi said, smilin
g. He turned to the twins, a look of challenge and determination on his face. “Tabu, can you tell me the answer to number four?” Mr. Bernaldi is not about to be intimidated, Delia thought, turning around in her seat to see what would happen.

  “Two forty-nine point five,” Tabu replied defiantly, as if answering the challenge. He had barely glanced at his book.

  Mr. Bernaldi looked down at his notes to double-check the answer. “You’re correct, Tabu,” he said quietly. “Good job.”

  Even though the twins rarely participated in class activities, Delia noticed they made good grades. They were smarter than they let on to be. When teachers passed back papers in grade order from highest to lowest, a practice Delia hated, she noticed that the Tolliver twins usually had papers in the top of the stack and she usually had papers in the bottom. Maybe if I had a twin, Delia thought, I’d get better grades. Two brains have got to be better than one.

  Before Delia’s social studies class, the next bell, the students huddled together in small groups, whispering and spreading the little information they knew. Titan and Tabu were not in this class. Then the bell rang, and Mrs. Parks, a tall, powerful African-American woman who wore a colorful African garment to class each day, tossed aside her textbook and said, “Okay, you need to talk, so let’s talk. This is what social studies is all about—people and problems. I know you all saw the TV show last week—it always amazes me what you watch when you get home—and I know you are concerned. Without making accusations or false statements, let’s discuss what’s going on. Melissa? You look worried.”

  Melissa, a skinny, quiet girl with braces and stringy blond hair, said softly, “I’m afraid of them—the twins.”

  “Have they ever done anything to make you feel that way?” asked Mrs. Parks.

  “No,” Melissa admitted, “but one day they passed me in the hall, and they, and they—”

  “Go on,” Mrs. Parks said gently. “What happened?”

  “They growled at me,” Melissa said quickly, as if she was embarrassed.

  The rest of the class started to laugh, but one look from Mrs. Parks silenced them. “That frightened you?” Mrs. Parks asked quietly. Melissa nodded, head down.