Double Dutch

by Sharon M. Draper

  “You won’t tell?” Delia asked after a moment.

  “Who am I gonna tell? And who would believe me anyway? Everybody knows how much I lie.”

  “You got that right.”

  “I don’t know how you managed to get this far without being able to read and without anybody figuring it out.”

  “I fooled you, didn’t I?”

  “For a while. I sat right next to you through most of elementary school. I thought you were reading, at first.”

  “Mostly I was copying off your paper.”

  “Get outta here!” Yolanda pretended she was shocked. “Seriously, I guess I knew, even before I really figured it all out, but how’d you fool all the teachers?”

  Delia sighed. “It was easy in elementary school. That school was a mess. Teacher parade. Remember? Miss Pringle in fourth grade got pregnant and left. Then Mr. Balboa took her place, and all he did was read the newspaper while we played cards and checkers.”

  Yolanda nodded. “In fifth grade we had that long-term sub until Thanksgiving—the one who kept falling asleep in class—Mr. Biski.”

  “Yeah, old Biscuit Head Biski!” Delia laughed. “Then the lady they finally hired quit by January—I don’t even remember her name—said her nerves couldn’t take thirty-five fifth graders. And the new lady was so confused, she never learned our names. If we did purple ditto sheets and shut up, we passed.”

  Yolanda grinned. “Yeah, that was the life!”

  Delia sighed again. “In sixth grade Mrs. Davenport decided to retire early, so we got Mr. Franklin, who got fired for smacking Willie Williams in the face.”

  “I don’t blame him. Willie Williams was a pig,” Yolanda asserted. “But then we had another long-term sub …”

  “... Who never figured out I had a problem,” Delia said, finishing Yo Yo’s thought. “I guess I was just lucky in elementary school.”

  “Or maybe really unlucky. Somebody could have helped you back then.”

  “I didn’t need any help. I figured out how to beat the system.”

  “Yeah, but now the system is about to beat your butt!” Yolanda repacked her book bag and brushed her hair. She clearly enjoyed showing off the fact that she had hair that was long enough to bounce and swing. “You know, it’s amazing nobody noticed you always made D’s and F’s in stuff that required reading.”

  “I was happy when I got a C on a test,” Delia admitted. “But I always did my homework.”

  “Mostly you did MY homework!” Yolanda laughed and tossed the brush back into her bag.

  “Well, what are friends for?” Delia smiled sadly. “And I faked it a lot.”

  “Yeah, I know. ‘Cause you seem smart, and you can memorize better than anyone I know.”

  “Yolanda, I AM smart. I am NOT dumb!” Delia’s anger and frustration returned. “I just can’t figure out what the words say sometimes!”

  “So that’s why you always had to go to the bathroom when we had to read out loud.”

  “Or I’d get sick.”

  “With a coughing spell.”

  “Or I’d fake the hiccups.”

  “Or you’d cry.”

  “Or I’d speak so softly that the teacher couldn’t hear me.”

  “Or you’d say you forgot your glasses.”

  “I never needed glasses.”

  “You didn’t?” This time, Yolanda sounded genuinely shocked.

  “My parents were worried when the second-grade teacher told them I was having trouble seeing the board. That was the last really good teacher we had. I could SEE just fine. I just couldn’t read it. So when they gave me the eye test, I pretended I couldn’t see very well, and I got glasses. Actually, they make everything worse!” Delia laughed as she sniffled.

  “Delia,” Yolanda said gently as she placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder, “I could, uh, maybe help you after school or something. We could, like, you know, get some, like, uh-”

  “Books with bunnies and butterflies? Thanks, but no way. It’s too late.” Delia put her head in her hands.

  “How’d you fool your parents?” Yolanda asked finally.

  Delia’s shoulders slumped. She said nothing to Yolanda for several minutes, thinking back to third grade, when her parents had fought every night. Her father, always coming home late from work, and her mother, fretful and distracted, waiting by the door. Nights were filled with arguments and accusations—yelling, crying, cursing. It was awful. They had tried to keep it in their bedroom, but Delia could hear everything. Delia found out later that her father had been seeing another woman and wanted a divorce.

  She could tell her mother was too unhappy to really notice her daughter. Sure, she made sure that Delia had clean clothes and a good dinner and lunch money and that sort of stuff, but she just didn’t have the energy to check homework or become involved in school activities. And when Delia was in fourth grade, her father had moved out and her mother was dealing with lawyers and trying to find a second job. Delia remembered that her mother had cried a lot. And she remembered trying to be brave and not wanting to bother her. She figured her mother had enough problems anyway.

  “Delia? You okay?” Yolanda asked gently.

  “Yeah.” Delia sighed. “I guess I’m just dead meat.”

  “Speaking of dead meat, here comes Randy,” Yolanda said, smiling at him. Randy grinned as he headed toward the two girls. He was carrying three cookies wrapped in plastic.

  “Now why you want to dis me like that? And I come bringin’ you fresh-baked cafeteria cookies!”

  “The only thing fresh-baked from that cafeteria is the dirt!” Yolanda quipped. “And I’m the one who ought to be bringing you gifts. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in class yesterday.”

  ‘Just to show you I forgive you, I’m gonna eat all these cookies myself!” Randy squeezed his large body between the two girls, unwrapped the cookies, and stuffed all three into his mouth at the same time. They laughed as he licked his fingers and the plastic wrap, too.

  “You’re gross, Randy,” Delia said, giggling, glad for the distraction.

  “I saw this world record TV show where a man ate a hundred cookies at one time,” Yolanda began. “He choked and died right there on live TV.”

  “You’re hopeless, Yolanda,” Randy said, laughing. “Everything you say is a lie!”

  “At least I’m predictable!” Yolanda retorted. “Let’s go to class.” The bell rang, and the three of them headed back to the building. “You going to Double Dutch practice tonight, Delia?”

  “No way I’m gonna miss it. I want to practice those new moves for the freestyle routine. It’s our last chance to get ready for the qualifying championships. City finals are Saturday, you know.”

  “Bet we’ve got a good chance to go all the way this year.”

  “I’ll be there too,” Randy added. “Gotta watch you ladies do your thing!”

  “You’re just lucky we let you hang around such fine young things!” Yolanda teased as she tossed her ponytail in his face. Randy laughed and bounded down the hall to his class.

  Delia was quiet as she watched him disappear down the hall. She had trouble acting silly around Randy. He made her feel sweaty and self-conscious. But it wasn’t Randy who was making her armpits feel clammy today. It was the test. It was rumbling down the road like a runaway truck, and she was standing, helpless, directly in its path.

  four

  DELIA WAS GLAD SHE HAD DOUBLE DUTCH ON SATURDAY. It took her mind off the threats of tests and twins, and worries about reading and homework. When they were younger, all of the girls had jumped rope for fun on the city sidewalks during summer vacations—doubles, singles, twirls, fancy jumps, and trick moves—each showing off to impress one another, as well as the boys who had always gathered to watch from a distance when they took a break from playing basketball. But this was official Double Dutch, sponsored by the American Double Dutch League. It had official rules, standards, and regulations, with teams for kids as young as third grade, an
d even a senior division for adults who wanted to jump.

  Delia and Yolanda hurried into the gym at the recreation center where Double Dutch practices and events were held. They had practice at least three times a week after school or in the evening, but this Saturday morning event was the first qualifying tournament of the year—the one that led to the state and national championships. Teams from all over Cincinnati were meeting today to decide which of the participants would compete at the next level.

  Charlene had just arrived, and the three friends, dressed in shorts, tennis shoes, and matching navy blue Double Dutch T-shirts, tossed their gym bags in a corner, pulled out their practice ropes, and began their warm-up stretches and practice jumps. Around the noisy gym, dozens of other jumpers from ages eight to eighteen were doing the same.

  “Let’s practice compulsories,” Delia suggested, “before Randy and Bomani get here.” Bomani was their coach, and Randy was equipment manager. Randy really seemed to enjoy his job, and Delia was sure it had something to do with hanging around a gym full of girls.

  She got into position, signaled to Yo Yo and Charlene, and took a deep breath. For Delia, jumping was more than exercise—it was magic as she stepped and jumped gracefully in between the twirling ropes. Yolanda and Charlene turned, going through the standard moves for the compulsory part of their routine, which included two clockwise right turns on the right foot, two counterclockwise left turns on the left foot, four crisscross jumps, and ten high step jumps with their knees lifted up to waist level, sung to a chant.

  “One-TWO

  One-TWO/Three-FOUR!/Five-SIX/Seven-EIGHT

  One-TWO

  “One-TWO

  One-TWO/Three-FOUR/Five-SIX/Seven-EIGHT

  One-TWO

  “Right over left / Left over right / One-TWO

  “Now HIGH!

  TWO!

  THREE!

  FOUR!

  FIVE!

  SIX!

  SEVEN!

  EIGHT!

  NINE!

  TEX!

  One-TWO-Exit!”

  Delia jumped out of the ropes with skill, barely out of breath. She could do this with her eyes closed now.

  Two girls from a recreation center across town sauntered over to them. The first girl, who was short, sturdy, and looked like she could punch out a grizzly bear, said nothing at first, but her friend, who was tall and thin, giggled a little as they approached them.

  “You been jumping long?” the giggling girl asked Delia.

  “I’ve been jumping on the Queen Bees Double Dutch team since fifth grade,” Delia replied, yawning as if she were bored. “What about you?”

  “I been jumping since I could walk. My mama runs our team. My name is Shana, and this here is Jackie. What’s yours?”

  “I’m Yolanda, she’s Charlene, and this is Delia,” Yo Yo replied. “I’ve been jumping since I was eight, and I bet Delia can outjump you.”

  Delia glanced at Yolanda as if to say, “Why you wanna do me like that?” but she said nothing and continued to stretch. Charlene grinned. She knew what was coming.

  After Yolanda started jumping with the team when she was eight, she had always asked Delia to come with her to practice at the YMCA gym, but Delia never really believed that Yolanda was on a team, because Yo Yo talked about competitions in Madagascar and Greenland. When Delia finally realized that the team was real and the competitions were held in ordinary places like Columbus, Ohio, she went to one practice and was hooked. She loved the feel of the ropes in her hands and the sensation of electricity when she jumped. And she loved a challenge. Shana and Jackie had shown up just in time.

  “Challenge you to a speed jump?” Delia asked casually.

  “Bet,” Shana and Jackie answered together. Shana giggled nervously while Jackie took a deep breath and got ready to enter the ropes.

  Delia and Yolanda turned while Jackie jumped. Charlene and Shana pretended to ignore each other. The turners started off slowly, turning in time with Jackie’s feet, and as her speed increased, so did the whirling of the ropes over her head, so that soon nothing could be heard but the tapping of her shoes and the whirling of the ropes as they made a breeze in the corner of the gym.

  Jackie finally missed, jumping out and laughing, taking the ropes from Delia so she could take a turn. Nobody had really counted the number of jumps, or even timed them—it was the challenge of the speed and the ropes that they jumped for. It was all in fun, but deadly serious at the same time.

  Delia missed after just a few jumps, and so did Charlene, but when it was Yolanda’s turn, she was jumping so fast and so well that even Shana and Jackie were cheering for her.

  When she finally jumped out of the ropes, she said, laughing, “Don’t be hatin’, girlfriends. You know I’m bad!” The five girls laughed and chatted as if they were old friends. They all got some water, then Shana and Jackie wandered back to the other side of the gym. Delia knew the day would be fun as well as challenging.

  Delia hopped back into the ropes, jumping easily while Charlene and Yolanda turned, when Yolanda laughed and started reciting a chant that they had all jumped to as kids.

  “Down in the valley where the green grass grows,

  There sat Dee Dee as sweet as a rose,

  She sang, she sang, she sang so sweet,

  Along came Randy and kissed her on the cheek!

  How many kisses did she receive?

  Was it one, two—”

  “Stop, girl! I’m not jumpin’ if you want to be playin’ like that. We don’t have time for kids’ games. The championship is coming up. Besides, why you want to put Randy’s name in the chant?” Delia jumped out of the ropes, tossed a towel on her head, and strode over to the cooler to get some more water. Her hair, cut short like a cap on her head, felt damp and sticky from the hair spray she used to keep it from jumping up and down when she did. She laughed as Yolanda and Charlene kept turning and singing. “You know the rules. You’re s’posed to put the ropes down when I jump out.”

  They ignored her. Yolanda, who stood with her knees slightly bent and her legs slightly bowed, never took her eyes from the ropes that whipped and popped on the shiny gym floor. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. . . . Girlfriend, you gonna catch something, kissin’ on that boy like that. He told me he loved you, you know. You heard him, didn’t you, Charlene? He was standing right over there by the gym door. Last night. About eight o’clock. Remember?” Yolanda waited for Charlene to back up her story.

  Charlene dropped her end of the ropes, scratched her head, and said, “Yo Yo, you trippin’, girl. He never said no such thing. Randy wasn’t even here last night. For that matter, neither were you! We didn’t have practice yesterday! Remember?”

  Yolanda slapped herself on the side of her head and said, as if she had just remembered, “Oh that flu shot. The doctors told me that it would cause memory loss and hallucinations. I think I’m feeling faint, too. Anybody got some cough drops? The doctor told me to eat plenty of cough drops. It fools the flu, you know. Makes your body think that you’re really sick, when all you’re doing is fakin’ it by chewing on cough drops. Brilliant, huh? Anyway, I know Randy wants him some Delia. I can feel it when he walks by her.” Yo Yo tossed her hair so that it swung round from her back to the front and back again. She liked it long and refused to tie it up for practice or meets, even after the time her hair got caught in the ropes during a jump. She had told the coach that cutting her hair or tying it up was against her religion. The coach hadn’t believed her, but hadn’t brought the matter up again.

  Delia just shook her head and ignored Yolanda as she drank her water. “I’m not thinkin’ about Randy,” Delia finally said as she walked back over the ropes. “He makes me itch. Just turn the ropes, girl. Let’s see if we can get the rhythm. Then we’ll switch and each take a turn jumping.”

  “I bet he wants to scratch that itch,” Yo Yo mumbled, but she picked up her end of the ropes and started to turn once more. Charlene laughed, bu
t Delia ignored both of them as she concentrated on keeping up with the whipping of the ropes on the gym floor. She tried to keep her mind blank: ready, open only to feeling the rhythm of the ropes. She didn’t think of Randy, who was large and noisy and made her miss a step when she knew he was watching her jump. She didn’t think of Yo Yo, who was a dependable, but complicated, friend. And she didn’t think about her problems about school. Not today. Her feet danced, and her body leaped with delight as she spun to the rhythm of the ropes. She did not miss for the entire drill, until the back door of the gym flew open and Randy came in with the breeze.

  five

  RANDY FILLED A ROOM WHEN HE WALKED INTO IT, EVEN A room as large as a gym. At least that’s how Delia felt when she saw him come in the back door. He looked like he had everything under control, she thought, with his baseball hat carefully placed so the brim touched the back of his neck, his shoes untied, and his sweatpants pulled down low on his butt, one pant leg down, one pant leg pushed up to his knee. He could have been wearing a sign that read, I REALLY DON’T CARE, she thought.

  Delia didn’t know too much about Randy except that he lived with his dad, who was a long-distance truck driver. Even though he was often out of town, when Randy’s dad had come to a couple of the team’s Double Dutch events, Randy had beamed like a lightning bug. She’d heard rumors that Randy’s mom had run off with the mailman or something like that, but Delia tried not to pay attention to that kind of talk.

  She jumped out of the ropes and knelt to tie her shoelace. She tried to pretend not to notice him. He even smelled good. The faint smell of something woodsy drifted through the air that, just moments before, had smelled merely of old gym and new sweat. Delia knew that for her to be able to smell it clear across the gym, he had to be wearing way too much cologne, but she smiled anyway.

  He smiled at Delia as he got out the official ropes and spread them out in pairs on the floor. She smiled back, but suddenly felt self-conscious. She was sweaty from that jump, and her hair, in spite of the hair spray, was a mess.