Double Dutch (11 page)

Delia stormed off the floor, hot with anger, as she dug in her bag for her water bottle. “How dare he talk to me like that?” she muttered to Yolanda. “Where's he get off thinkin' he can talk to me like he's my mama or something? He better fix his face to be lookin' someplace else!”

“It's the heat, Delia,” Yolanda said, trying to calm her down. “You know Randy isn't usually like this. He's crazy about you—you know that.”

“Well, he sure has a crazy way of showing it!” Delia was still angry. She refused to look at Randy, who sat near the table of refreshments that some parents had brought. “You jump for a while, Yo Yo. Get Charlene and Misty to turn for you. I'm not doing anybody any good.”

“It's too hot for anything,” Yolanda complained as she went to find her own water bottle. “When my body gets overheated, I sometimes go into cardiac arrest. I must be careful.”

“You're gonna get arrested for tellin' tales,” Delia said, chuckling. “Get out there and jump! Let me see your fastest speed routine.”

Yolanda walked over to the ropes, gave the signal to Misty and Charlene, and proceeded to jump fast and furious. She smirked when she stopped, and said to Delia, “Piece of cake!” The only signs that she was aware of the heat were small drops of perspiration on the bridge of her nose. Delia stood and cheered loudly. Yolanda, who clearly had been
awesome, took a bow and walked off the gym floor. Bomani nodded in approval from the other side of the gym.

Randy set the timer for the younger girls, then moved slowly across the floor to the folding chair where Delia sat. She had her feet propped up on another chair and a wet paper towel on her forehead. Her eyes were closed.

“Hey, Delia, uh, my bad,” Randy said softly. “I'm like, uh, sorry. You're the last person here who I want to be mad at me. I'm just... I'm just...” He could not finish the sentence.

Delia did not move or open her eyes at first. Finally she peeked from behind the quickly drying paper towel and asked, “What's wrong with you?”

Randy sighed. “Can I call you tonight? I've got something to tell you.”

“What is it?” Delia asked, sitting up straight and looking at him intently. She could feel her anger melt.

“I promise I'll tell you tonight. I can't talk about it here. And Delia?” he added nervously.

“What?” she asked quietly.

“Don't mention this to Yolanda or Charlene. Please.” Randy looked miserable.

Delia continued to look at him carefully. “Okay, no sweat.” She smiled then. “Actually that's the problem—too much sweat tonight! But don't worry, I got your back.”

Randy looked relieved as the buzzer for the timer sounded. He bounded back to the scoring table.

Yolanda, Misty, and Charlene headed directly for Delia when they finished their jumps. “What's up, girl? What did he say?”

“I thought you were supposed to be jumpin', not dippin' into somebody else's business!” Delia laughed.

“It's easy to do both,” Yo Yo said between gulps as she swallowed half a bottle of water. “I do it all the time!”

“That's your problem!” Misty said. “If you'd concentrate on what we're supposed to be doing out there, instead of tryin' to run Delia's love life, we'd have the championship tied up!”

“Speak for yourself, girlfriend,” Yo Yo replied. “I have no interest in Delia's love life. I have a dynamite love life of my own, thank you—seventeen boyfriends, last I counted—but it still might be interesting to hear what the large one has on his puny little mind.”

“He was just talking about tomorrow's project presentation at school,” Delia said smoothly.

“That wasn't a school project look he was giving you,” Charlene said with envy in her voice. “That was a ‘Hey-Delia-you-so-fine-you-so-fine-you-blow-my-mind' kind of look!”

Delia ignored them all and headed out to the floor to jump again. She noticed that the two fifth graders who had been fighting a few minutes before were giggling together, getting ready to jump again as well.

“Well, are you guys gonna turn for me or what?” she asked Misty and Charlene. They laughed and ran to pick up the ropes. Yolanda stayed on the sidelines, fixing her hair.

Delia jumped in from the left and went through the mandatory routine almost without thinking. Her mind was on Randy.

“Lookin' better, Delia!” Bomani shouted with encouragement. Delia never ceased to be amazed at how Bomani could see everything that was going on in six different areas
of the gym. “Pick up those feet, Shantelle! Watch the ropes, DeLisa! Say, Shasta! Left foot, remember? Left foot!”

Bomani let them leave a little early because the gym was so stuffy and warm. Delia was glad to see her mother waiting for her in the parking lot. The air conditioner was cold and refreshing when she slid into the seat. “You need a ride, Randy?” Delia asked as she rolled down the window. “You better decide quick, because all the hot air is trying to sneak into the car!”

“You don't mind, Mrs. Douglas?” Randy asked, leaning his large frame down so he could peek into the window. “It sure beats taking the bus!”

“Of course not, Randy. Actually, it was my idea,” Delia's mother told him. “Hop in.”

Randy climbed gratefully into the back seat, inhaling deeply the cooled air. “Why do you think it's so hot, Mrs. D.?” he asked as they headed down the street.

“I read in the newspaper this morning that the weather is expected to be unusually hot like this until the end of the week,” she told him. “My grandfather used to call this tornado weather,” she added. “It's that time of year around here, you know.”

“Makes me want to skip spring and jump right into summer vacation,” Delia commented. “It's too hot for school.” Delia usually glanced at the copy of the
Cincinnati Post
on the kitchen table when she got home from school, but except for the photos, the newspaper, along with the detailed weather forecast, was just a lot of gray fuzz.

“Hot for the next couple of days, at least, I heard. Then a cold front is supposed to come through.” Delia's mother turned the air-conditioning fan up as high as it would go.

“We could use a couple of feet of snow!” joked Delia.

“Be for real. Maybe rain-humid and sticky, for sure,” said Randy.

“You'll survive,” Mrs. Douglas said calmly.

“Maybe not,” Delia muttered under her breath. Mrs. Douglas didn't hear her, but Delia noticed that Randy did. Delia turned the radio on to her favorite station.

“So, is the team ready for the finals?” Mrs. Douglas asked, turning the music down.

“Oh, yeah, we're gonna kick butt!” Randy said with feeling. “Uh, excuse me, Mrs. D. We're going to do real good.”

Mrs. Douglas laughed. “It's wonderful that the league has chosen Cincinnati to be the location of the world championships.”

“Yeah, I guess it's cool for kids from Atlanta, who get to come here on a plane, but for us, we don't even get to go out of town! That sucks,” Delia complained. “Last year we got to go to New York, and the year before that we went to Myrtle Beach. It's boring staying here at home.”

“You still get to stay in a hotel and swim in the pool and do all the stuff you would have done out of town. Enjoy it and quit complaining,” Mrs. Douglas said mildly.

“Being the hometown team gives us more power,” Randy said.

“And more pressure for the jumpers,” Delia added.

“But you get your picture in the paper and you get to be interviewed on TV. I heard Bomani talking to Clifton Grayson, the reporter, last week,” her mother added wisely.

“Wow!” Delia said. “I think he's cute! I don't know if I'd be able to talk to him—I'd be so nervous.”

“You probably won't have to say much—just jump like no tomorrow!” her mother told her. “Here's your place, Randy. You need anything, dear?” Mrs. Douglas asked.

“No thanks, I'm cool. Actually, I'm really hot, but you know what I mean,” Randy said, laughing. “Thanks for the ride.” Delia watched Randy glance at the windows of his apartment. They were dark.

Randy glanced back at Delia, gave her a smile, and headed into the building.

I
T WAS UNBEARABLY HOT IN THE HALLWAY, AND
R
ANDY'S
apartment seemed to pulse with heat. The cat greeted him at the door with a loud meow. He gave her some water in a dish, which she lapped up thirstily.

“Sorry about that, Cat,” Randy said softly. He took a cool shower and made himself a large pitcher of Kool-Aid. It was so hot, he didn't even have an appetite.

He turned on a small fan in the living room, sat directly in front of it, took a deep breath, and dialed Delia's number. She answered on the first ring. “What's up?” he asked casually.

“Not much. It's too hot to think-too hot to breathe.”

“Yeah, I feel ya. My cat is sitting here in front of my fan, sucking up all my cool air!” Randy laughed, but it sounded weak and hollow.

“Are you okay, Randy?” Delia asked. “What's going on?”

Randy sighed again. “Delia, I guess I gotta tell somebody.” He stopped, pausing to think.

“What's wrong? You know you can trust me,” Delia urged him.

“It's my dad.”

“Did something happen on the road?”

“Uh, no, he, uh . . . he wants me to move to California
with him,” Randy said suddenly. For some reason, he just could not bring himself to tell Delia the truth. “He called last night and wants me to meet him there next week.”

“Next week!” Delia said, alarm in her voice. “Why can't he wait until the end of the school year? It's only a couple of months,” she offered, her voice sounding strained.

“I told him I had to wait until after the Double Dutch tournament, then I guess I'm outta here.”

“That's this weekend!” Delia repeated shrilly.

“I know,” Randy answered quietly. He figured that if his dad had not returned by then, he would have to call the police and he'd be taken out of school, anyway. He wanted just a little more time. Time to be there for the tournament. Time to hope. Time to pray. “Delia?” Randy asked slowly.

“What, Randy?” Delia answered quietly.

“Dad said he would send me some money to get to California, but until he does, do you think ... is there any way ... I mean, I really hate to ask, but—”

“You need some money, Randy?”

“Naw, I'm okay. I was just teasing.” Randy was suddenly embarrassed and sorry he had brought up the subject. But the woman from the electric company called every day, asking for more money, and the man from the rental company had simply laughed at the hundred dollars. Juggling it all made his head swim.

“I got fifty dollars for my birthday last month—Daddy always gives me money because he feels guilty that he's not with me like he used to be,” Delia insisted. “I get to do with it what I want, and I'm bringing it to school tomorrow! I trust you, Randy, and I trust your dad. I know he's good for it!”

“Thanks, Delia. You don't know how much I appreciate it. I'll pay you back as soon as I hear from my dad—I promise.” Even as he spoke, Randy worried about how he would ever be able to repay Delia if his father never came back.

“Don't worry about it, Randy.”

“You got everything for our presentation tomorrow?” he asked, changing the subject. “You know my cat is gonna be the star of the whole show!”

Delia chuckled. “Yep, the tape is ready. Jesse's got one poster, Yolanda has the other, and you're bringing stuff to give the class—those little Martian pictures you drew, right? And you're right, bringing the cat was a cool idea.”

“Well, me and my cat is tight.” Randy laughed again. Delia made him feel relaxed and almost normal. “Yeah, I got the other handouts—the question sheets and stuff.”

“It's gonna be a dynamite presentation, Randy. And then we get to see what the Tollivers came up with. Scary. Hey, my mom is calling me. I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Peace, Delia. And thanks.”

Randy got ready for bed, refusing to glance at the silent telephone. He slept restlessly, dreaming of his father. He woke up hot, sweaty, and hungry. He made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and washed it down with the rest of the Kool-Aid. He chopped up the last hot dog into little pieces and gave it to the cat, who sniffed it like it was poison. “You get hungry enough, Cat, trust me, you'll eat it,” Randy said as he got dressed for school. He grabbed all the materials for their presentation, stuffed them into his book bag, and headed out the door. The day was unbelievably hot already.

The weather was just weird, he thought. It just didn't feel right. The air even smelled funny.

By the time he got to school, he was already sweaty and uncomfortable. The heat inside the school, which was not air-conditioned, was thick and heavy. Kids moved in slow motion, fanning themselves during class, falling asleep in spite of themselves. Outside, although the air was unbearably oppressive and hard to breathe, the sky was not bright with sunshine. Instead it was a mustard yellow color, with odd, dusty-looking clouds hovering in it.

By third bell, time for English class, Randy just wanted to get out of there. The thought of jumping into an ice-cold swimming pool kept running through his mind as the sweat trickled down his back. Miss Benson, dressed in a sleeveless blouse and slacks, looked at her lethargic class as the bell rang. She took attendance and reminded the class that the state tests would begin next week. The class groaned and drooped even more.

“I hope Group Two has a dynamite presentation. We need something to wake us up. You guys ready? And Mr. and Mr. Tolliver? Are you two ready as well?”

Titan looked up. Dressed in black as usual, he didn't even look hot and uncomfortable like the others in the class. “We're ready,” he said quietly.