Double Dutch (16 page)

Delia looked up and down the busy street. She loved being downtown. It was so busy and full of life-it didn't even seem like the same city she lived in, she thought. She wandered out to the curb, gazing at the announcements for rock concerts, comedy clubs, and political candidates that had been tacked to the telephone pole there, wishing once again that the words would make sense to her. The pole was pocked and gouged with staples and nails and holes from old announcements that had been replaced by new ones. Near the bottom was a typed sheet of white paper with a picture on it that caught her attention. It almost looked like . . . but it couldn't be. Yes, it looked like Randy's father! Delia gasped. What was Randy's father doing on a poster?

She ripped the paper off the pole and gazed at the fuzzy photo in front of her. It was definitely Randy's father, unsmiling and looking a little confused, and a lot thinner than Delia remembered.
He looks like a criminal,
Delia thought, and was instantly ashamed for thinking it.

What did it say? Tears of angry frustration filled her eyes. She really
needed
to be able to read this. She could read some of the smaller words, but not enough to patch together a sentence to figure out what the flyer said.

So this is why Randy had acted so funny when she'd asked him about his father. And why he'd asked to borrow the money! His dad was in trouble. She wondered if he was running from the law, if he'd committed some terrible crime and was hiding from the police!
No wonder Randy has been stressed!

Delia checked a couple of the other telephone poles, but she saw no other papers like the one she held in her trembling hand. For a moment, she considered throwing it away, but she didn't know what to do. Show Randy? But she felt he already knew his dad was in trouble—that's why he'd been acting so weird. If she told Bomani or her mother, they'd have to call the police. Taking deep breaths to calm her beating heart, she decided the best thing to do was to help Randy keep it a secret. Randy would be glad she was such a good friend, Delia thought shakily.

Satisfied with her decision, Delia folded the flyer several times and stuffed it into the pocket of her shorts. She headed back to the elevator, remembered the candy, bought several bars, and returned to the room.

“What took you so long?” Yolanda asked. “I'm up here about to die from lack of chocolate in my bloodstream. The doctors told me that chocolate is good for my concussion.”

“Uh, long line,” Delia said as she touched the folded paper in her pocket. “Oh, and the Canadian team is here. They're looking good.”

“Not as good as us!” Yolanda said as she licked her candy bar.

“Why do you do that?” Delia asked, making a face of disgust.

“‘Cause it freaks you out!” Yo Yo grinned. “Hey, Bomani called. He wants a team meeting in fifteen minutes. He said we get pizza afterward.”

“Great! You're not gonna lick the pizza, too, are you?” Delia laughed.

“Now THAT's disgusting!” Yolanda replied.

At the team meeting Bomani discussed rules and gave them dozens of reminders. “Remember to keep your T-shirts tucked in at all times, ladies—fifteen-point deduction if you forget. And don't forget, if you enter the ropes from the right, you must exit on the left. In the compulsories, thirty seconds for singles, forty for doubles, and make sure those knees come up waist-high! Watch out for penalty points, and aim for bonus points.” Finally, he said with fierce, passionate power in his voice, “Double Dutch is a TEAM sport, not an individual one. Each team is only as strong as the rope turners and the jumper or jumpers. Unless all parts of the team are working together like a machine, you will not be successful!”

Delia had heard it all many times, but she listened with interest and tried to remember every suggestion that Bomani made. She had learned from past tournaments that sometimes it was the attention to little details that made the difference between first and second place. She tried not to think of the
WANTED
poster hidden in her pocket as she watched Randy in a corner of the room, ironing their team shirts for tomorrow. She knew it was the part of his job he liked the least, but every shirt would be crisp and perfect by morning.

As Bomani passed out the pizza, he took the time to tell each girl how special he thought she was, how proud he
was to have her on his team, and how proud he would be of her tomorrow, no matter how she scored. Delia and Yolanda smiled as broadly as the kids on the third-grade team because Bomani really meant what he said—Double Dutch made them all special.

“You sure you're okay to jump tomorrow, Yolanda?” Bomani asked for the fifteenth time as Yolanda and Delia were heading back to their room.

“Honest, Bomani, I'm okay. My mom took me to the doctor again yesterday and he said I was fine. You know my mother wouldn't even let me out of the house if she thought I was in any danger. I'm ready—just relax.”

“Okay. Good. You two get some sleep now—breakfast is at seven. We have to be at the gym by eight-thirty for warm-ups,” Bomani told them. Delia waved to Randy as they left the room.

She wondered again if she should tell him she knew about his dad. But she couldn't. She couldn't embarrass him like that. Could she tell Yolanda? No, that would be selling out a friend—telling his business to the world. She decided to wait until the tournament was over. Then maybe she could just let him know that if he needed anything, he could count on her. What she probably should do is throw the thing away—he'd never know. She walked slowly behind Yolanda, who never even noticed Delia's frown of confusion.

B
Y
F
RIDAY MORNING AT NINE THE GYM WAS FULL OF
noisy, excited, jumping young people. T-shirts identified them from dozens of other states, as well as several foreign countries. Every shirt was tucked in; every tennis shoe was clean and tied tightly to prevent accidental slips or trips. Ropes flew in the halls, on the steps in front of the building, and in every possible clear space in the huge gym at the University of Cincinnati. The tapping of the young feet and the rapping of the twisted ropes on the floor built up a syncopated rhythm of excitement.

Friday's events would take almost all day, Delia knew. Every singles team—from third grade through the open divisions—had to be evaluated in compulsory, speed, and freestyle events. The whole procedure would be repeated for the doubles teams. With more than three hundred teams represented, it seemed it would take forever, but that evening, the top five teams in every grade and every division would be posted. Those would be the teams to compete in the finals on Saturday.

The judges, dressed in all white, stood near each team with counters and clipboards, making sure that every step was counted, every turn was registered, and every miss was deducted from the score. When the Queen Bees were called
for singles, Delia and Yolanda and Charlene gave each other a high five, and marched to the center of the gym floor. Randy gave them a wink from where he watched with Bomani in the stands.

The buzzer sounded. Delia jumped the compulsory round to perfection. But Bomani always told them that by eighth grade the compulsories
ought
to be perfect. Charlene jumped the speed round while Yolanda and Delia turned. She missed once, but she didn't let it frazzle her concentration. She jumped right back in, head down, knees low, tapping incredibly fast to the whistling of the ropes. She jumped a dynamite 350 jumps in the thirty-second time period. The three of them were pleased.

For their freestyle routine they managed to include several complicated tricks—including a backward push-up and a one-hand flip—without missing or getting tangled in the ropes. Bomani and Randy gave them a thumbs-up sign as they walked off the floor feeling triumphant.

“You think we made the finals?” Yolanda asked Delia as they went to the lobby to get hot dogs.

“I think we did pretty good. Unless South Carolina or Georgia beats us out with their fancy freestyle stuff, I think we've got a good shot. We didn't make any major mistakes. Is your head okay? You feeling all right? You know we still gotta do doubles in a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, I never felt better. Really.”

“Good. Then let's go back in—I want to see what the Japanese team does in their freestyle routine. They're awesome. It's like they're dancing with the ropes. Are your parents coming tomorrow?” Delia asked.

“Yeah, they had to work today. My father told me we'd
better make the final five so he'd have something to see tomorrow. You know how he is.”

“Don't sweat it. I think we'll be there. I have faith.” Then Delia asked Yolanda slyly, “So, are both your boyfriends coming tomorrow? And what about Jesse?”

Yolanda laughed. “Jesse is in Cleveland with his dad-something about male bonding because of the almost-tragedy at school. And I don't know if the twins will show or not. One thing you can say about them: They sure aren't predictable!”

“What are you wearing to the DD party tonight?” Delia asked.

“A prom dress,” Yolanda tossed back at her. “What about you?”

“Something cool—all that jumping in such a small area makes me sweaty.”

“Well, in that case I'll wear a swim suit!” Yolanda laughed.

That evening at the party Delia took a moment to get a Coke, smiling to herself as she watched teams from all over the country jump together. Jackie and Shana were challenging some kids from Taiwan to speed jumps. Charlene and Misty were teaching some younger jumpers from California how to do some fancy rope tricks. Even Randy was jumping with some of the kids from Canada. Competition was forgotten for the moment; everyone was friends for the evening, sharing the one thing they all loved—the magic of the ropes.

The list of the final five in each grade and division was posted shortly after the party broke up. Fourteen of Cincinnati's eighteen teams were represented, including the
third-grade singles team and doubles team, the fourth-grade doubles and freestyle teams, and at least one or two teams from each grade level. Delia's eighth-grade team was selected in all three divisions—singles, doubles, and freestyle. Delia cheered and hugged Yolanda and Charlene and Misty. This was too good to be true.

The girls were elated, although the teams that did not place were initially disappointed. Bomani made sure no one felt sorry for herself and that every single girl encouraged the teams that would represent them all on Saturday.

The next morning, dressed in crisp white shorts and freshly ironed T-shirts, once again thanks to Randy, the Queen Bees marched proudly into the gym with the rest of the Ohio teams in the grand parade of states as the music of the Olympics piped through the speakers. Every single competitor, whether she or he had been selected for the finals or not, marched with pride and dignity. Parents took pictures and videotapes; reporters from local TV stations, as well as CNN, hovered close by; and the tension was thick enough to slice. Delia's mom sat with Yolanda's parents on one side of the gym. Delia's dad and Jillian sat on the other. Misty's mother and her four little sisters waved proudly from a seat near the door.

“Look, Delia! It's Miss Benson!” Yolanda said with excitement. Both girls waved furiously to their teacher as she walked into the gym. She waved back, finding a seat near several of her students.

Yolanda waved to her parents as well, then asked Randy, “Is your dad coming? I know he never misses a big tournament if he's in town.”

Randy replied, “No, he's still in California, but he told
me to tell you to jump pretty and kick butt!” Delia glanced at Randy, but said nothing.

The president of the American Double Dutch League, who always showed up dressed in a classy hat, welcomed each team. After singing the national anthem in several languages, representing each country there, she led the jumpers in the recitation of the Double Dutch Pledge.

Delia repeated loud and strong with the voices of six hundred other jumpers:

“I promise to do my best to:

• report for practice on time;

• work cooperatively with my coach, teammates, and Double Dutch officials;

• strive to encourage good citizenship, always setting a good example;

• practice good health habits-promising to be drug free;

• demonstrate my best with daily school attendance, assignments, and home responsibilities.”

It was time. The trophies sat ready on a table at the far end of the gym—gleaming and ready for the winners. The buzzers sounded, and the competition began.

“T
HE FEELING IS DIFFERENT TODAY
,” D
ELIA TOLD
R
ANDY
,
who was handing out water bottles to the girls. “It's like electricity—it will give you a buzz if you touch it. That's how the air feels.”

“You're just nervous,” Randy replied. “Relax. Concentrate. You can do this.”

“I know. We're ready,” Delia said, then she joined Yolanda, Charlene, and Misty, who were stretching on the sidelines while the first set of jumpers began. All five of the qualifying third-grade singles teams were on the floor at one time, with several judges, dressed all in white, stationed at each position.

“This is gonna move so fast today,” Misty commented. “With five going at a time, they'll be ready for us before we have a chance to go to the bathroom.”

“I'm never going to the bathroom away from home again!” Yolanda joked.

The director of the tournament, with the excitement and power of an announcer for the Olympics, roared into the microphone, “Turners, check your ropes! Jumpers, check your laces. Judges, check your timers!” He paused for effect. The gym, filled with hundreds of people, was absolutely silent. “Jumpers, are you ready?” Five very small
hands were raised to indicate they were ready to begin. “Judges, are you ready?” Five more hands were raised. “TIME!”