Double Dutch

by Sharon M. Draper

  Instead of screaming, however, Yolanda took a deep breath and grinned like a cartoon cat. “Do you like the color?” she asked brightly. She spoke quickly and nervously. “We’re doing an experiment for my home economics class—testing the colors of new lipsticks on the men of the school. Would you like to try another color?” Delia listened to her friend in amazement—she knew Yolanda was terrified, but she seemed to be faking it quite well.

  Tabu said nothing but continued to stare at Yolanda as if she were a bug to be squashed. Then he did something completely unexpected. He smiled. “You got guts, girl.” The smile disappeared in a second, and he and his brother turned and continued with their usual fierce look and determined stride down the hall.

  Yolanda slid down the lockers and onto the floor. “I thought I was gonna die!” she said between gasps of air and almost hysterical giggles. “That was not good for my weak heart. I think somebody should take me to the emergency room.”

  “We were about to call 911 and tell them to bring a mop to wipe what was left of you off the floor!” Delia teased as she helped Yolanda up. “Only you could talk your way out of a beating by the Tollivers!”

  “Did you see him smile?” Yolanda asked with amazement.

  “Fear got you seein’ things, girl,” Charlene said. “I don’t think the Tollivers know how to smile.” “For real! He did! Just one quick little smile,” Yolanda insisted.

  “I saw it,” Delia admitted quietly to Yolanda. “Maybe he was imagining what you’d look like in little pieces.”

  Most of the kids didn’t believe Yolanda, but then, most kids never did. She headed on to class as the bell rang, shaking her head in amazement. She never did put on her lipstick.

  Delia breezed through her math quiz in first bell, but she worried about her second-bell social studies class. Mrs. Parks had been giving lots of reading assignments for homework, with very little discussion in class the next day, to Delia’s annoyance. And Yolanda wasn’t in her class to help her.

  Today an all-school assembly was scheduled. As soon as the bell rang, Quinn raised his hand. “We goin’ to the assembly, Mrs. Parks?”

  “Yes, Quinn. It’s your lucky day. No class today. The principal has called this assembly, and it should take all bell.” The whole class cheered.

  “What’s it about, Mrs. Parks?” asked Aziz.

  “I’m going to sing and dance,” Mrs. Parks teased him as she quickly took attendance. She quieted with a hand the laughing of the class, then told them seriously, “It’s about safety. We want to make sure we have a safe end to the school year.”

  “Boring!” whispered Aziz. “I’d rather hear her sing!”

  Delia figured this special assembly had been called to deal with the Tolliver situation. The whole school was nervous and edgy. As she filed into the noisy auditorium, she spotted Yolanda, who had managed to find a seat next to Jesse. She didn’t see Charlene, but she saw Randy, sitting near the front, laughing loudly with some of the boys from his gym class. The Tolliver twins sat quietly in the back.

  The principal, Mr. Lazarro, was tall and thin and had a long, pale neck. The kids called him Lazarro the Lizard, but they liked him. He took the time to talk to them when he passed them in the hall, and if a kid got sent to his office for discipline, it was known that he would listen to all sides and try to be fair in his decisions.

  He adjusted the microphone upward to match his height, and quieted the room full of students with just a clearing of his throat. “I have called this assembly today to discuss some very important issues with you, my young friends. We want to make sure you are safe here at school, and it is our job to find a way to make that happen. We will have a brief presentation by Officer Bobby Brown, then I’ll let you ask questions. Bob? They’re all yours.”

  The kids cheered. Officer Bob had been at the school for years and he knew most of the kids by name. He was the Cincinnati police officer assigned to all the junior high schools in the city. His job was to be more of a friend and a resource person for the students than an enforcer. However, when someone went over the line, like earlier in the year when a kid brought a knife to school and threatened a teacher, Officer Bob had taken him out of the building in handcuffs.

  He approached the microphone, adjusted it downward, for he was much shorter than the principal, and got them quiet with just three words. “I hate funerals,” he began. The auditorium was suddenly silent. “I have been to too many funerals of young people who had not learned to live and were certainly not ready to die. I have seen death from gun violence. I have seen death from car wrecks. And I’ve seen death from just plain stupidity. I don’t want to see it anymore.” He paused for effect. Delia sat up straight and listened.

  “We are instituting some new policies here at the school. It is happening all over the country, so don’t think you’re being picked on, and don’t think you’re special. First of all, this weekend a metal detector will be installed at the front door.” Everyone groaned. “Silence!” demanded Officer Bob. “Beginning on Monday, everyone must enter through this door and, just like at the airport, you’ll pass through a simple detector that will make a noise if it picks up a metal object in your book bag or pocket. So don’t put hubcaps in your book bag anymore,” he added, trying to make them laugh. It didn’t work.

  “What if I got a metal belt buckle?” yelled Aziz from the middle of the auditorium.

  “As loose as you wear your pants, Aziz,” Officer Bob joked, “it probably means your pants are gonna fall down when we run your belt through the machine!” Everybody laughed this time. “Seriously,” Officer Bob added, “as long as you’re not carrying weapons or dangerous objects, you won’t have a problem. Just like in the airport. Unfortunately, this kind of business is a part of our lives these days.”

  He sighed and continued. “We will also be instituting spot checks of lockers for drugs and alcohol. I know none of you has ever even heard of drugs and you’d faint if you tasted alcohol, but just in case we’ve got some drug-using, wine cooler-sipping aliens from Mars tiptoeing around here, we’re going to check. Like I said, if you’re clean, we’ve got no problems.”

  “You gonna check the teachers, too?” Delia recognized Randy’s booming bass voice.

  “Teachers have voluntarily offered to be included in the metal detector checks as well as the other spot checks, to make it very clear that we mean business,” Officer Bob replied. “You didn’t expect that, did you, Randy?”

  Randy shrugged his shoulders. It really was a little surprising that the teachers would do that, Delia thought.

  “We’re in this together,” Officer Bob continued. “One last thing,” he added. “I’m assigned to this school only until the end of the school year, and I will be here all day every day. You can stop by anytime just to talk, to ask questions, or to report anything that looks suspicious or dangerous. It’s a good way to stop the rumors that get started when kids get scared. I’m here for you. I want each and every one of you to remember that. This is the best school in Cincinnati, and we’re going to keep it that way!” With that, he sat down. The students clapped enthusiastically.

  Mr. Lazarro returned to the microphone then, making it squeak as he moved it up. “We have only a few minutes before the bell rings. I’m going to let you ask a few questions—but within these guidelines: no questions about specific students or specific situations. Those are the things that should be discussed privately with Officer Bob. Are there any general questions about the new procedures?”

  Charlene raised her hand and asked, “Will parents have to go through the metal detectors?”

  “You better keep yo daddy outta here, if that’s the case!” yelled a boy from the other side of the auditorium.

  Mr. Lazarro ignored the boy and told her, “Yes, Charlene. Everyone who comes into this building—the mailman, maintenance people, even the school superintendent—will be checked. It sure will make me feel safer, and I’m sure your parents will be glad as well. Each parent will receive
a letter today explaining the new procedures.” The bell rang then, and Mr. Lazarro dismissed them to their next-bell classes. Everyone had an opinion, and the auditorium and halls buzzed with conversation as the students digested the information.

  Delia met up with Yolanda and Jesse in the main hall near the front doors. “Well, I guess this will be the prison entrance!” Yolanda said with gloom. “It’s all those dumb Tollivers’ fault. We had a perfectly nice school before they transferred here.”

  “I transferred here too,” Jesse reminded her. “Don’t blame the Tollivers for everything.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t go on national television and make threats that have got everybody scared. You don’t walk down the hall like you got mud for blood.”

  “You ever see me bleed?” Jesse teased her, trying to make her laugh.

  “No, and I hope I never do.” Yolanda refused to be consoled. “I hate this—being scared all the time.”

  Delia touched her arm and said, “It’s gonna be okay, Yo Yo. Let’s get to class.”

  In English, Miss Benson let them work in groups again. The new rules and the nervous feelings of fear and uncertainty made the group discussions loud and edgy. Delia and Randy explained their idea about the Martians to Yolanda and Jesse, and Yolanda immediately volunteered to be the main Martian in the skit.

  “Look, Yo Yo, you’re missing the point. You can’t be the Martian in the skit, because there aren’t any real aliens taking over the planet. Everybody just thinks it’s about to happen,” Delia explained.

  Yolanda sniffed and played with her hair. “Real Martians would be more fun. Well, I’ll be the one who starts the rumors.”

  “Now THAT’s the right part for you,” Randy said, laughing. Even Jesse had to agree.

  Delia said, “I have an idea! How about if we videotape it? I could use my mom’s camera. And we could film it at my house next week.” Delia knew a videotaped project would earn a very good grade.

  “Great idea!” Jesse said enthusiastically. “This is gonna be phat!”

  “I’ll write the script,” Yolanda offered, “since everybody thinks I’m the expert on making up stories around here. But I’m not gonna do it all by myself.”

  “I’ll help,” Jesse declared quickly. “Can we get together this weekend?”

  “We’ve got Double Dutch practice all day Saturday,” Delia reminded them, “and I’m at my dad’s house this weekend, so that’s not a good idea.”

  “How about next week?” Yolanda suggested. “Tuesday. My house.”

  “You gonna have food?” Randy asked.

  “We’ll kill a couple of the cattle from our herd in our backyard and see if that’s enough for you to start with.”

  “I can live with that,” Randy said, grinning. Yolanda and Delia both gave him a smile of disgust.

  Miss Benson walked around the room, checking the progress of each group. Delia glanced at her as she clearly saved the Tolliver twins for last. The Tollivers sat in the back, talking quietly. Tabu typed on a small laptop computer. Titan wrote in a notebook that was filled with pages and pages of neat blue script. The other students glanced nervously at them from time to time, but no one spoke to them.

  The teacher took a deep breath and approached the two boys with a smile. “And how is your project coming, gentlemen? I appreciate the fact that you work so well together and that you are so well-behaved.”

  “You were expecting less?” Tabu asked without returning her smile.

  “It is what I expect of all my students,” retorted the teacher, who blushed a bit. “Have you decided what you will do for your project?”

  “We’re gonna do our project on the killings in Lord of the Flies,” Titan told her without looking up from his notebook.

  “Is there anything else you can concentrate on? Something more positive?” Miss Benson asked hopefully.

  Tabu glanced at her as if she were mud on his boot. “You picked the book. Why’d you give us a book to read that’s got violence if you don’t want to discuss it?”

  “It’s on the required reading list,” Miss Benson answered lamely. “How, exactly, are you going to present this project?”

  “It’s gonna be a surprise,” Titan answered. “You will never forget it.”

  The bell rang then, and the twins picked up their belongings and brushed past Miss Benson without another word.

  eleven

  THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS WERE BUSY FOR ALL OF them, especially Randy, and for that he was glad. The Ohio State Double Dutch Championships were held on a Saturday in Columbus. Teams from all over Ohio, and a few from just across the river in Kentucky, met for the competition. It was just like the national finals in intensity, only smaller. The huge gym was filled with crisply ironed T-shirts, frantic practice jumps in the halls and parking lot, and the electric excitement of competition and challenge.

  Randy could tell Bomani really appreciated the help as Randy had made sure everyone was accounted for in the bus to Columbus and at the gym. When they got there, it was Randy’s job to help collect tickets at the door, pass out programs, and sell souvenirs. Later, he helped out as a timer, a scorekeeper, and a counter during the speed jumps. Randy ironed T-shirts, kept up with the third graders, and made sure everybody had lunch tickets. The high-school gym they used was noisy, crowded, and not air-conditioned, so it was Randy’s job to make sure all the jumpers from Cincinnati had water. He made sure all the judges had pencils and plenty of score sheets. At the end of the day he was exhausted, but relieved to have been so busy. It kept his mind off his father.

  Randy noticed there were a number of boys who were jumpers on the various teams from across the state. They were muscular, athletic, and always good crowd pleasers as they did their jumps, especially in the speed and freestyle events. He had considered jumping on a team a couple of years ago, but he liked his role now—the second in command in charge of whatever was needed. It made him feel useful.

  Randy knew the procedure in his sleep—it was the same in all competitions: the singles compulsory, timed jumps, and freestyle, beginning with the youngest jumpers and continuing to the oldest competitors, followed by the doubles competitions. Sometimes the whole thing got on his nerves because it took all day, but he liked the tight feeling of anticipation that grabbed him every time the jumpers on their team picked up the ropes. Everybody felt it as they waited their turn to be called, nervously watching the others and cheering for those who did outstanding performances.

  At last, the call was made for eighth-grade singles freestyle jumpers. Delia, Charlene, and Yolanda walked like professionals to their places, heads held high, absolute confidence on their faces. Delia glanced at Randy just before the buzzer sounded, and grinned.

  They completed their routine with gymnastic twists and elastic leaps. At one point, Yolanda, who was turning, tossed her end of the rope to Charlene, who grabbed it while she was still jumping, and in one turn of the ropes, Charlene moved effortlessly from jumper to turner, the rhythm of the ropes never stopping. Delia then tossed her end and completed the same move, so that each person had changed positions, but the ropes never faltered.

  “Beauty in motion,” Randy whispered, shaking his head. Yolanda, Delia, and Charlene completed the routine perfectly, ending with the three of them doing a jumping bow in perfect synchronization before the judges’ table. The whole routine got a standing ovation from the crowd. Bomani cheered with approval, even though he was not really supposed to.

  When the results were tallied at the end of the very long day, the Queen Bees, the Junior Bees, and the Little Bees all scored well and got selected to go on to the national finals—called “world championships” because the teams from several countries competed as well. Delia and her group had scored exceptionally high, with their singles freestyle taking them over the top.

  The following week, the busy schedule showed no signs of slowing. Double Dutch practice was now every day after school, in preparation for the upcoming world championships.
Randy and the rest of his group from English class had met at Yolanda’s house, where they wrote the script, and they all had gone to Delia’s house several times, where they videotaped sections of their skit.

  Randy was glad he had so much to do. It made the silent, lonely nights at home easier to bear. His food supply had just about disappeared once more. A little peanut butter. Some cheese. No cat food. He got free lunch at school, there were usually snacks available after Double Dutch practice, and he enjoyed working on the English project with Yolanda and Delia because they ordered pizza or one of their mothers would fix them something to eat.

  But by the following Saturday, Randy had come to the end of all his money and all the food he had in the house. He knew what he had to do. He sighed, looked at the VCR under the television, and unplugged it. The cat looked at him curiously as he wrapped the cord around the VCR and headed slowly for the door. He remembered when they had gotten the VCR. It was the best Christmas they’d ever had.

  He opened the door of Clifford’s Pawn Shop around the corner and set the VCR on the counter. Mr. Clifford, a skinny, wrinkled man with a cigar stuck in one corner of his mouth and glasses perched on the end of his nose, eyed Randy suspiciously. “This is not stolen,” Randy began as he walked toward the counter. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself, but I guess you get all kinds in here. This belongs to me and my father, and I need some money. My dad is . . . uh . . . sick, and we’re short on cash. How much can I get for this?”

  The old man said nothing at first. He looked at Randy with narrowed eyes, staring intently through the purple-rimmed glasses on his nose, apparently evaluating the situation. “How much you need?” he finally asked.

  “Huh?” Randy was a little surprised. “I thought you offered me what you think it’s worth.”

  “If I did that, I’d give you about fifteen dollars,” replied the owner. “How much you need?” he repeated.

  Randy thought for a minute. “Fifty dollars will hold me—I mean us—for a little while. I’ll give the folks at the electric company twenty dollars, and I’ll keep the rest for food.”