Double Dutch by Sharon M. Draper Page B

music echoing through the empty rooms.

twelve
    D OUBLE D UTCH PRACTICE ON M ONDAY WAS HOT AND horrible. Delia tripped over the ropes like they were made of tree branches. She couldn’t get past 50 on her speed jumps, when her average was usually closer to 350.
    Randy yelled at her from across the floor, “Get it together, Delia. You jumpin’ like a kindergartner—a clumsy one at that!”
    â€œYou’re not the coach!” Delia yelled back at him. “Don’t mess with me! At least I’m not sweatin’ like a pig!”
    Randy grabbed a towel and wiped his face. It had been unusually hot all day—more like July than April. Randy was hot and hungry and angry. “Well, you’re jumpin’ like a pig! We ain’t gonna win nothin’ if you jump like that at the finals next week!”
    â€œI don’t believe you’re dissin’ me like that!” she retorted angrily. “If you don’t like it, you can just—”
    â€œThat’s enough!” yelled Bomani from the other side of the gym. He was physically restraining two screaming, sweating ten-year-olds who were angry enough to fight. One swore she had been tripped. The other claimed she couldn’t turn for somebody who was stupid and ugly. “Teammates do NOT fight each other,” he told the girls sternly. “Go sit on the sidelines and make up, or I’m calling your parents to takeyou home. It is too hot to be dealin’ with this kind of foolishness tonight.” Both of them scowled, but they quieted down and obeyed. “And Delia,” Bomani yelled, “Randy’s right. Go get some water, rest a little, then try again. You’re off your game tonight.”
    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!”
    â€œIt’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.”
    â€œWell, 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.”
    â€œIt’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.”
    â€œYou’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 beenawesome, 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.
    â€œHey, 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