Double Dutch

  As Delia and Yolanda turned the ropes while Misty and Charlene did the doubles routine, Delia watched Misty closely and admired her even more. Nothing is really as it seems, she thought as the ropes twisted in her hands.

  After two hours of drills, timed practices, and jumping techniques, Bomani blew his whistle and told them all to take a break, get some water, and come back for a short team meeting. He gave Randy two stacks of typed sheets to pass out—one with information about the state and national tournaments that were coming up soon, as well as information about practices and local competitions for the next month. The other sheet concerned the new eligibility rules for eighth-grade Double Dutch competitors. Delia glanced at them, carelessly stuffed them into her gym bag, and began to stretch her legs while Bomani went over the highlights of the information on the sheets. The younger girls asked a million silly questions, but Bomani was patient and answered every one.

  “Will they have bathrooms at the other gym?”

  “Yes, DeLisa. They have very nice bathrooms at that gym.”

  “Do we take our ropes, or do we have to use their tricky ropes, like the ones that made me fall last time?”

  “I’m sure it was that rope’s fault that you fell, Shantelle. We’ll take our own ropes just to make sure you come in first place.” Bomani chuckled, then looked directly at Delia, Yolanda, Misty, and Charlene. His smile faded. “If you have read the green sheet Randy just handed you,” he began, “you can see that the school board and the state Double Dutch association have agreed that all eighth-grade jumpers must pass the proficiency tests in order to continue their eligibility for ninth grade. I’m sure that will be no problem, because I know all of you are good students. I just wanted to let you know it’s official.”

  Delia felt her breath catch in her chest.

  Yolanda touched her gently. “It will be okay, Delia. We’ll figure something out.” The rest of the girls were packing up and getting ready to go home.

  “I’m dumb as a rock,” Delia said to the floor.

  “Quit talking like that!” Yolanda fired back. “You always get good grades on projects and stuff.”

  “That’s ’cause I always volunteer to do oral reports or art displays or science experiments while everybody else looks up stuff in the encyclopedia,” Delia explained glumly.

  “You do pretty well on tests, too,” Yolanda continued. “Even math.”

  “That’s ’cause I’m the best guesser in the world! Math is no problem as long as it’s only numbers. But the word problems? Forget it! I just skip them and hope I’ve got enough right on the other parts to get by.”

  Yolanda thought out loud, “I wonder why doing numbers and figuring math out is easy for you, but reading words is so hard.”

  “My brain is fried. That’s why,” Delia replied morosely.

  “It is not! Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Yolanda said sharply. “But what are you going to do about the stupid state test? Part of it is reading, and part of it is essay. Only a small part is multiple choice.”

  “I don’t know. Mostly I write teeny-tiny, with a ball-point pen that’s almost out of ink. It’s just about impossible to read, and most teachers give up after a while and pass me ’cause I’m nice in class. I’m sure they don’t try to read it. But I can’t pull that kind of stuff on the graders for the state test. I sure can’t fool them with an oral report on the movie version of a book.”

  “Not likely.”

  “And if I fail the state test-”

  “You fail eighth grade,” Yolanda continued for her, her voice sounding pained. “And if you fail eighth grade—”

  “Everybody will think I’m stupid. And everybody will find out I can’t read.”

  “Even worse—”

  “I won’t be allowed to be in Double Dutch anymore!”

  “And if you can’t jump-”

  “I’ll just die!” Delia sighed as she stuffed her towel and water bottle into her gym bag. “My mom’s here. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Yo Yo.”

  Yolanda, for once, had nothing to say. “Peace,” she called quietly as Delia headed toward the door.

  nine

  RANDY DRAGGED INTO HIS HOUSE, TIRED AND HUNGRY. HE looked around hopefully, but nothing had changed. No duffel bag on the floor and no smell of his dad’s spaghetti bubbling on the stove. Randy was so disappointed, he felt ill. He was sick of thinking about the Tollivers, sick of homework assignments, and sick of coming home to an empty house.

  “Where are you, Dad?” Randy said to the walls. “And why haven’t you called?” He threw himself on the sofa but did not turn on the television this time. “No telling who I’ll see on there,” he muttered.

  The cat jumped on the sofa, looking for bologna or whatever leftovers Randy might offer, but seeing nothing, she curled up on Randy’s chest and looked at him with bright, unblinking eyes.

  As the cat purred on his chest, Randy stroked her back and sighed as he thought about his situation. His money was getting tight. His dad had given him fifty dollars when he left, and reminded Randy about the four hundred dollars they kept hidden in the shoe box in the bottom of the closet for emergencies. Randy couldn’t believe that the rent and the phone bill had eaten up most of the money already, and he knew he didn’t have enough left to pay the electric bill. At least the days were getting longer.

  The cat made a small, careless mewing sound.

  Randy did some quick calculations and figured he had enough for one more trip to the grocery store. “We may have to cut back on cat food,” he said, grinning, as he rubbed the cat’s head.

  The cat stirred as if she understood. Randy sighed again as he tried to fight the clammy feeling of fear that crept over him. He couldn’t stop thinking that something was wrong—really wrong. His father hadn’t called in over a month. He always kept his cell phone on, but when Randy called, all he heard were dull, continuous, unanswered rings.

  Randy kept hoping every day he came home, he’d find his dad sitting on the sofa, but instead he was greeted each day by the silent walls. He’d never been gone this long before. Randy knew he probably ought to call the police, but he was afraid that might get his dad in trouble for leaving Randy by himself. And what if they put him in foster care? That’s what happened to kids who were left alone, but Randy had no intention of being treated like a kid. He could take care of himself.

  His dad had always told him to trust his instincts. But right now he didn’t even know what his instincts were, except that he was scared.

  He shifted his weight on the sofa, and the cat jumped off Randy’s chest to the coffee table. “Where is he, Cat?”

  At that moment the phone rang, startling Randy. He jumped to reach for it while the cat leaped deftly to the floor, annoyed at the sudden movement. “Dad?” Randy said hopefully.

  Delia’s laughter sparkled softly on the line. “Sorry, Randy, it’s just me. You’re expecting a call from your dad?”

  “Yeah. He’ll probably call tonight, though. What’s up?”

  “I just called to see what you wanted to do about that English project. You got any ideas?”

  “Nah, not yet. How about you?”

  “I got a couple of things rolling around in my head. Maybe we can . . . hey, my mom is calling me to go to the grocery store with her, so can I call you later tonight?”

  “Sure thing. After I eat, my brain works better, anyway. Catch you later.”

  “Bye.”

  Randy hung up the phone. I sure wish I coulda asked her to bring me stuff from the grocery store, he thought as he opened the last can of cat food. The cat, fully absorbed in the turning can and the smell coming from it, nearly knocked it out of Randy’s hand as he placed it on the floor. “I guess I’d better go to the store myself,” he decided. He stuffed the last of the money into his coat pocket and headed down the street to the corner market.

  Prices were higher there than at the big supermarket near the mall, but this was quick and easy. Even though he shopped sl
owly and carefully, and checked prices on every box and can, Randy knew that the small assortment of food in his cart was all he could afford. He sighed as he unpacked the cart and watched the electronic scanner register the price of each item. He paid for his groceries, counted the money very carefully, and double-checked his change. He had put back a couple of boxes of cereal and a six-pack of soda at the last minute so he wouldn’t be completely broke. In his pocket, he had seventeen dollars left—no more hidden emergency money. Just seventeen dollars. And all of the groceries fit into two brown bags.

  When he got home, he fixed himself a can of soup and three hot dogs. It was filling, but he knew he’d be hungry again before he went to bed. Dad will come home soon, he told himself. Then we’ll go out to dinner and get us two of the biggest steaks on the menu—maybe even three—one for the cat!

  He called Delia then, hoping he would hear the little interrupting beeping sound that indicated there was another call on the line, a call from his dad. Delia sounded glad to hear from him. “You finish dinner?” he asked.

  “Yeah, me and my mom were both hungry when we shopped, so we got all kinds of goodies that she usually doesn’t buy. We had a huge dinner and even a pie for dessert.”

  “Sounds great,” Randy said with a little envy.

  “Did you hear from your dad yet?” Delia asked.

  Randy hesitated and considered telling her everything, but he could see nothing but trouble if he did. Besides, he had enough food to last for another week or so, if he was careful. And he was sure his dad would be back before then. So he said, “Uh, yeah, he did. I talked to him just a few minutes ago. He’ll be home soon.”

  “That’s good. Randy, if you ever need anything, you know you can call me. You told me the other day that you’d protect me from the Tollivers, and I appreciate that. I doubt if I can be much protection to you, as big as you are, but you just understand you can call me if things get rough. You got that?” Randy could hear Delia let out a deep breath.

  “I gotcha,” Randy replied softly. He didn’t want Delia to know how much her offer meant to him, so he changed the subject as well as his tone. “Now, what are we gonna do about this stupid English project?”

  “Well, in class we talked about a skit. I thought we could do something that shows how fear can take over a school, you know, like one of those schools they show on the TV specials.”

  “Sounds a little too real,” Randy said, sighing. “Everybody at school is so jumpy. Maybe we should do something funny instead,” he suggested.

  “Good idea. How about if everybody at school believes they’re about to be invaded by Martians?”

  “We can ask Yolanda to do the research. She’s probably been to Mars three or four times!” Randy laughed.

  “How about if the kids at this school in our skit are afraid of being taken to Mars to be dissected?” Delia offered.

  “Yeah, and somebody says there are lists going around the school with names of kids who are about to be shipped out.”

  “Of course nobody has seen any list.”

  “For that matter, nobody has seen any Martians,” Randy added. “It’s all based on fear and rumors.”

  “I think this is gonna be good, Randy,” Delia said. “It will be fun to do, too.”

  “I wonder what the Tollivers will do for their project,” Randy mused.

  “Something scary, I’m sure,” Delia replied. “Hey, my other line is beeping. I gotta go. At least we got something to tell Miss Benson tomorrow. Catch you later.”

  Delia hung up, and Randy sat on the sofa in the silence of the small apartment. His stomach growled a little, but he ignored it and stared at the phone, hoping it would ring once more with his dad on the other end. But the phone, like the rest of the apartment, was silent.

  Randy leaned back then, trying not to think of what might have happened to his father, and dozed a little. The ringing of the phone startled him awake, and he sat up and grabbed the phone on the second ring.

  “Hello?” Randy said hopefully into the receiver.

  “Winston Youngblood, please,” said a voice that was so artificial sounding, it might have been a computer.

  “He’s not available at the moment,” Randy replied. “May I help you?”

  “This is Miss Espy from the Cincinnati Gas and Electric Company. We were wondering if the payment for your heat and light has been made recently. We show the last payment was over six weeks ago.”

  Randy couldn’t believe that a bill collector was calling this late in the evening. Then he figured that was the only time they could be sure to catch people. “I mailed that check yesterday,” Randy lied smoothly. I sound like Yolanda! “You should have it tomorrow or the next day at the very latest,” Randy added.

  “I will make a note of that,” the computer-sounding Miss Espy replied. She has probably heard such lies many times before, Randy thought. And she probably didn’t believe him. But Randy didn’t care. He had bought himself a little time, and his dad would probably be home by morning. At least he hoped so.

  Randy finished his homework, turned off all the lights, and slid his large frame into bed. He listened to his alarm clock ticking and water dripping in the sink. The cat jumped onto the bed when Randy was almost asleep. She curled up into a tight ball at his feet. Randy didn’t try to kick her off.

  Randy fell asleep slowly. He thought of his dad and how close they had become. He tried not to let negative thoughts drift into his mind, but visions of his father hurt or bleeding or even dead kept slicing into the images in his mind. Randy pulled his covers up around his neck, but it didn’t help. He was afraid.

  ten

  “HOW’S DOUBLE DUTCH PRACTICE COMING, DELIA?” HER mother asked as they drove to school the next morning. “You’ve got practice after school tonight?”

  Delia gathered her book bag, her gym bag, and a small overnight bag from the back seat of the car as her mother pulled into the school parking lot. “Practice is cool, Mom. We’ll go to State for sure, probably even Nationals. You know we’re bad!”

  “I’m going to stop by and watch you again real soon,” her mother promised. “Tomorrow is Saturday. For once, I don’t have to work on the weekend.”

  “Stay home and rest, Mom,” Delia said quickly. “You’ve seen us practice a million times. Put your feet up and enjoy an empty house for a little while. Dad will take me to Double Dutch after school and tomorrow, and you know he’ll be there with Jillian. That always upsets you, and when you get bent outta shape, I can’t jump well.”

  Delia’s mom sighed. Delia glanced at her, knowing the sight of Delia’s dad with his new wife still made her feel terrible. And she knew her mother was grateful to have a reason not to go to practice. Delia usually spent every other weekend with her father and Jillian. Delia didn’t like it much, but she knew she had to make the effort. She loved her dad, tolerated her stepmother, and packed her travel bag every other weekend to keep everybody happy.

  “I love you, Mom,” Delia said as she kissed her mother on the cheek. She gathered her bags and got out of the car. “I’ll call you tomorrow. See you Sunday!” She waved once more and headed up the walkway to the school.

  “Hey, Yo Yo!” Delia called when she noticed Yolanda’s bouncing ponytail a few feet in front of her. She was walking with Charlene.

  Yolanda turned and waved. “You got enough bags, girl?” Charlene asked as Delia trudged up the sidewalk toward them.

  “Book bag. Gym bag. Dad bag,” Delia said as she shifted the bags onto her other shoulder.

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot it was your daddy weekend. How’s Miss Jillian?”

  “She’s okay. She doesn’t hassle me, which is cool,” Delia answered.

  “Did you hear the latest?” Yolanda jumped with excitement.

  “I just got here. What’s up?” Delia asked.

  “The Tollivers are planning something!” Yolanda replied in a hushed voice.

  “Who says?” Charlene asked.

  “Planning what
? And how do you know?” Delia demanded.

  “Something secret. Something big. Something terrible,” Yolanda said slowly and with mystery in her voice. “I heard a girl on the bus say she read about it on a Web site.”

  “So what makes you think it’s true?” Delia asked skeptically.

  “Everything on the Web is true!” Yolanda asserted with conviction in her voice. “It’s the new place for truth and information in the world!”

  “Yeah, right,” Charlene said sarcastically.

  “Information, maybe. Truth? I doubt it,” Delia said as they walked to their lockers. “Don’t go spreading stuff unless you’re sure, Yo Yo. I wouldn’t want the Tollivers to find out you’ve been telling lies on them. Be careful what you say.”

  “She’s right, Yolanda,” Charlene added. “You don’t want them mad at you.”

  “Then they ought to find that girl on the bus. She started it,” Yolanda retorted. “I gotta get to the bathroom to put on some lipstick. Jesse is in my first-bell Spanish class, and I gotta look good! Adiós!” She headed down the hall, digging in her purse for her makeup as she walked. She didn’t see the Tollivers as they turned the corner.

  Delia saw the collision that was about to happen and cried out, “Yolanda! Look where you’re going!” But she couldn’t get the words out in time. Yolanda, who had just successfully pulled her lipstick out of her purse and opened it, looked up just in time to see the angry faces of the Tolliver brothers barreling toward her, demanding hall space as they always did. She had no time to jump out of the way, and the edge of her lipstick brushed across the back of Tabu’s hand as they pushed by her. Tabu stopped abruptly and looked at the bright red stain on his pale brown skin. Titan turned and stopped as well, and both of them walked toward Yolanda as she backed toward the lockers, fear showing plainly on her face.

  “You did that?” Tabu’s words were both a question and an accusation. He lifted his lipstick-marked hand and held it menacingly in front of her face. Delia, Charlene, and several other kids stood nearby, afraid to interfere, ready to run for help if necessary.