Being the big sister and now a referee, I push through the heavy wooden doors and practically race down the hall to the kitchen, where it seems like round twelve of a yelling match is taking place. Before I can say a word, my mother fumbles to her bedroom and starts throwing stuff into the hallway. It’s my dad’s stuff. Maybe today is the last straw for whatever he did. I don’t think my dad’s good looks are going to save him this time. Today something is really wrong.
I want to jump in, but I’m too afraid. They’re so angry. My mother’s face is a beautiful mess of tears and makeup. Even as she fusses with my father, her husband of thirteen years, anyone can see how much she still loves him, and my dad has always been proud to have a beautiful woman like my mother; I think it’s what keeps him putting up with their tumultuous relationship. Maybe everyone in the neighborhood is right about my father. Maybe he is a “ladies’ man” who can’t seem to keep his hand out of the cookie jar; in other words, people think he’s a player. I hope the rumors aren’t true, but I’m no fool. There are a lot of single mothers around my neighborhood who would love to have my father as their man.
Instantly my eyes begin to well with tears. When my mother cries, I cry too.
“You want to stay out all night?” my mom asks through her rage. “Then take your clothes with you and get out!”
“I told you, I was working!” my father yells back.
“Right! Work! How many times are you going to use that excuse?” My mom continues to throw stuff from the closet. “I’m tired of it, Johnnie! And you can tell ‘work’ she can have you!”
“Sarah!” my dad pleads.
“Get out!” my mom yells at the top of her lungs.
“Stop! Stop! Please, stop it!” I yell at them, as if they are the kids now. Miraculously they stop. My mother plops onto the bed, sobbing.
“You’re impossible to deal with!” my dad screams.
“Daddy, please stop!” I say with as much respect as I can muster up.
After calming himself with a few deep breaths, my dad realizes the mess they’ve made. He quickly gathers whatever shirts and pants he can and practically levitates with anger. He heads for the door at full steam. He passes Cameron on the way out, barely noticing him.
“Bye, Daddy.” Cameron looks up from his game with sadness in his eyes.
“Son, we’ll catch up later, all right?” Daddy says, trying to conceal his own disappointment. Cameron doesn’t make a move. Sadly, my little brother seems to have lost confidence in my father at that moment, and he concentrates harder on his game. After Daddy lets out a big sigh, he runs out to his shiny car. I go to the living room window and watch him drive away. I can’t help but wonder where he’s going. Tears fall and disappear in the sweat on my T-shirt from double Dutch. I cover my face as I run to my room. I don’t want Cameron to see me cry. He doesn’t need to see everyone falling apart. Just like me, Cameron is probably wondering: Will Daddy be back?
It’s the first day of regionals on the way to the National Jump-off, and some kids are milling about nervously as if it’s Judgment Day. Well, it is, but some aren’t too confident about their double Dutch skills, unlike me. Even though I’ve been dealing with the drama at home for a week, I still believe my team is ready. I just push my issues at home to the back of my mind and arrive early to jump about a thousand times with a single rope. But no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to forget what’s going on, I constantly think of my mom and dad. I wonder how two people who supposedly love each other can fight so much. When things were good, they’d hug and kiss all the time. Now I just don’t understand. Maybe I’m too young to understand. If this is what marriage is about, I don’t think I’ll ever get married. For now I have to get focused. With all this anger and sadness, I am so ready to smash any competition!
“Hey, Kayla, is your mom coming? Maybe my mom can sit with yours?” Nikki breaks my concentration.
“Oh, um, my mom…couldn’t make it,” I lie. “But it’s only the local competition, right? So, you know, she’ll make the next one.” This is not the place or time to air my family’s dirty laundry, although I’m sure everyone’s already smelled it. Nikki suspects grief, but thankfully she doesn’t pry. When my parents fight, they completely forget about me and Cameron. So asking them to take time out of their busy day to show up to my silly double Dutch competition would be like trying to take a toy from a baby. They’d just whine about it.
—
Whistles sound all around, and thank goodness the competition gets everyone in game-time mode. There are mostly girls, ages six to fourteen, jumping carefully in the compulsory test. In compulsory, teams have to show they can make two turns to the right on the right foot and two turns to the left on the left foot, do two crisscross jumps, both with each foot crossing over once, then ten high steps, and exit the ropes, all without making a mistake. It sounds complicated, but it’s easy-peasy, especially since everyone does it slowly and carefully so they don’t mess up. The Double Dutch Jets sail smoothly through compulsory. Speed is up next—my favorite. Other kids stop to stare at me. I think I’m maybe one of the—if not the—fastest speed jumper they’ve ever seen. Not bragging either. I’m just saying.
Before entering the ropes I keep my head
