on the visitors’ side. That was where they could leave their water bottles, snacks and warm-up jackets when they went to compete.
He handed around the sheet that told when, where and in what event each team member would compete. Keisha was number 2,236. She would perform in double-Dutch speed first and single speed in the early afternoon, and she was the last slot in the final freestyle event.
What a drag! Her tummy would be crisscrossing all day long as she saw and heard about the other jumpers.
“Let’s do a lap and see everything.” Wen grabbed Keisha’s hand and tugged her along.
“Wait for us!” Keisha turned to see Marcus, Jorge and Aaliyah hopping up and down, trying to find them in the crowd.
Marcus still had a pencil stuck behind his ear from when he was doodling on the bus. “Hey, do you think at lunchtime Coach will let me go outside and draw this building? It looks like a European castle!”
The Steppers managed to make it all the way around the gym by forming a line and grabbing the shoulder of the person in front of them. When they got back to home base, it was time for them to split up and go to their separate events.
Keisha, Aaliyah and Wen started off strong in double-Dutch speed. As it turned out, Aaliyah’s booming voice was a big plus in a room with all that noise. She and Wen twirled furiously for Keisha, helping her get a personal best. With Aaliyah’s and Wen’s quick skipping, their threesome advanced to the finals.
Marcus and Jorge also advanced in boys’ single speed jumping. Though Keisha didn’t make it, Wen—who’d been working hard on her wrist motion—moved up to the final heat along with Aaliyah, who also made it to the finals in double unders.
They had never seen such tough competition. During warm-up, Keisha watched the jumpers from Flint’s Eisenhower Elementary Cadettes and Detroit’s Campbell Elementary Buzzing Bees. Their skipping was fierce. The Detroit jumpers used old-school style, sitting back low during the speed events and pumping with theirknees. It was faster, but it made your thighs just burn!
Though she tried not to make a big deal of it, Keisha’s freestyle routine stayed in the back of her mind like a thistle bur all day long. At three in the afternoon, she was stretching and doing some warm-up skipping when Coach managed to pull together everyone who wasn’t involved in a heat.
“You have done your school and your city proud today,” he said. “Three personal bests! We can go back to Langston Hughes with our heads held high.”
“But it’s not over yet!” Marcus said. “Maybe we’ll bring home a trophy.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Coach said. He pushed his baseball cap back on his head. “According to my calculations”—he glanced at his clipboard—“you would have to have three firsts in the final round to land in the top three. Looking at the splits here, Marcus and Aaliyah have a chance in speed jumping … and
maybe
Aaliyah can edge out those crazy jumpers from Saginaw in the double unders.…” Coach stopped talking and stared at the wall, lost in thought.
How did Keisha know he was comparing her routine—the one she would perform in less than half an hour—with the difficulty of the other routines to see how much of a chance she had to place?
Did she know it because that’s what
she
was thinking?
Maybe everyone was thinking the same thing.
Keisha had been the best freestyler on the team, but her play-it-safe routine would not gain them enough points, even if she nailed every hop, skip and jump.
“We have to leave room for possibility,” Coach said. “We have no idea how well the other freestylers will perform, and Keisha hasn’t jumped yet.”
When Coach dismissed them, Keisha tried to do some belly breathing, but her breath got all stopped-up in her middle somewhere. She knew even if she nailed her routine, her moves wouldn’t put her in the top tier. The others would have to mess
He handed around the sheet that told when, where and in what event each team member would compete. Keisha was number 2,236. She would perform in double-Dutch speed first and single speed in the early afternoon, and she was the last slot in the final freestyle event.
What a drag! Her tummy would be crisscrossing all day long as she saw and heard about the other jumpers.
“Let’s do a lap and see everything.” Wen grabbed Keisha’s hand and tugged her along.
“Wait for us!” Keisha turned to see Marcus, Jorge and Aaliyah hopping up and down, trying to find them in the crowd.
Marcus still had a pencil stuck behind his ear from when he was doodling on the bus. “Hey, do you think at lunchtime Coach will let me go outside and draw this building? It looks like a European castle!”
The Steppers managed to make it all the way around the gym by forming a line and grabbing the shoulder of the person in front of them. When they got back to home base, it was time for them to split up and go to their separate events.
Keisha, Aaliyah and Wen started off strong in double-Dutch speed. As it turned out, Aaliyah’s booming voice was a big plus in a room with all that noise. She and Wen twirled furiously for Keisha, helping her get a personal best. With Aaliyah’s and Wen’s quick skipping, their threesome advanced to the finals.
Marcus and Jorge also advanced in boys’ single speed jumping. Though Keisha didn’t make it, Wen—who’d been working hard on her wrist motion—moved up to the final heat along with Aaliyah, who also made it to the finals in double unders.
They had never seen such tough competition. During warm-up, Keisha watched the jumpers from Flint’s Eisenhower Elementary Cadettes and Detroit’s Campbell Elementary Buzzing Bees. Their skipping was fierce. The Detroit jumpers used old-school style, sitting back low during the speed events and pumping with theirknees. It was faster, but it made your thighs just burn!
Though she tried not to make a big deal of it, Keisha’s freestyle routine stayed in the back of her mind like a thistle bur all day long. At three in the afternoon, she was stretching and doing some warm-up skipping when Coach managed to pull together everyone who wasn’t involved in a heat.
“You have done your school and your city proud today,” he said. “Three personal bests! We can go back to Langston Hughes with our heads held high.”
“But it’s not over yet!” Marcus said. “Maybe we’ll bring home a trophy.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Coach said. He pushed his baseball cap back on his head. “According to my calculations”—he glanced at his clipboard—“you would have to have three firsts in the final round to land in the top three. Looking at the splits here, Marcus and Aaliyah have a chance in speed jumping … and
maybe
Aaliyah can edge out those crazy jumpers from Saginaw in the double unders.…” Coach stopped talking and stared at the wall, lost in thought.
How did Keisha know he was comparing her routine—the one she would perform in less than half an hour—with the difficulty of the other routines to see how much of a chance she had to place?
Did she know it because that’s what
she
was thinking?
Maybe everyone was thinking the same thing.
Keisha had been the best freestyler on the team, but her play-it-safe routine would not gain them enough points, even if she nailed every hop, skip and jump.
“We have to leave room for possibility,” Coach said. “We have no idea how well the other freestylers will perform, and Keisha hasn’t jumped yet.”
When Coach dismissed them, Keisha tried to do some belly breathing, but her breath got all stopped-up in her middle somewhere. She knew even if she nailed her routine, her moves wouldn’t put her in the top tier. The others would have to mess
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