“Come on, Kayla! One-two, one-two!” Drea cheers. No one has any idea that I am imagining that all my parents’ issues are under my feet. The problem is, I don’t even know what their issues are. I have my suspicions, though. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap! My feet are on fire! The faster I jump, the better I feel.
Time! Two minutes felt like two seconds. I exit the ropes as easily as I went in. “Three hundred and thirty-two steps,” the judge calls to the panel. It’s a new novice record! My teammates and I celebrate.
“If we don’t get to the finals with that number, those judges are crazy!” Mimi says reassuringly.
“I counted three hundred twenty-nine,” Eva adds. “But whatever they say counts, right?” I grimace at her a bit with my hands on my hips. Did she really just say that?
“That’s right,” Drea says in a huff. “We’re in!”
A smile shows up on my face for the first time this morning, but it doesn’t last, since neither of my parents is here to see me. Even Ms. Jackson has sort of a grin on her face while still popping her gum.
“That’s how you do it, girl. Keep your eye on the prize, no matter what’s going on around you,” Ms. Jackson says. What does she mean by that? Does she know something I don’t? But before I can catch my breath to ask, Ms. Jackson moves on.
—
After the competition, I quickly grab my stuff and run home as fast as I can to tell my parents the good news. Maybe it’ll change their moods and make them forget what they’ve been fighting about. I can only wish. I enter my house, and the door hits something behind it. Why are there suitcases in the hall? I don’t see or hear anybody. What is going on?
“Ma? Anybody home?” I call.
Finally I find my mother in the kitchen having a cup of coffee. She doesn’t seem very happy, but maybe I can cheer her up.
“Ma, guess what—I made it to the next round!” I say, beaming with excitement, hoping she’ll at least smile. Nothing. “I mean, me and the rest of the Double Dutch Jets, but you know.” I grab the orange juice out of the refrigerator. “I’m the one who put us on the map.” I’m joking, but Mom still isn’t laughing with me.
“That’s nice, baby,” she says, withdrawn. “I’m going to need a favor from you and your brother, okay?”
“Sure. What’s up with the luggage in the front? I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with you and Daddy, but…” I pour myself some juice, trying not to panic.
“I need you and Cameron to spend the rest of the summer with Aunt Jeanie,” my mom blurts out, cutting me off.
“No! Aunt Jeanie? In North Carolina? Ma, I hate that place! I just told you I made it into the next round in the double—”
“MaKayla!” my mom says as she stands quickly. “I don’t need this right now, okay? Just go! Go to your room and pack your things.”
“But, Ma, I have a chance to make it to Madison Square Garden! I can’t leave now! Ma, you gotta…” Tears quickly flood my eyes.
“Your father and I are talking about divorce!” she yells over me. I’m suddenly breathless. “Now, I didn’t want to tell you that, but it’s…Things are not good right now. I am sorry.” Her voice quivers. She sits quietly. Although I want to fight to stay, I don’t want to make my mother feel any worse than she already does.
“This isn’t fair!” I cry uncontrollably, and stomp all the way to my room like a five-year-old. I can’t help it. How could this be happening? I’ve worked so hard! Cameron opens his door, only to shake his head at me. What does he care? He’s a kid.
When morning comes, I can barely open my eyes. They’re swollen shut from crying so much, and getting out of bed is like pulling teeth. I just don’t want to do it. Unfortunately I don’t think staying in bed is going to change my mother’s horrible decision to send us down south. She doesn’t care that I hate everything about it. It’s like time stands still there, and it’s so darn quiet! And to top it off, my cousin Sally and I may be the same age, but we just don’t get along. Ugh! My parents are fighting, and Cameron and I are the ones who have to pay by having our lives turned upside down.
I stuff my last pair of sneakers into my bag and head downstairs to wait for my dad. Wait! My double Dutch ropes! I stop to think. If I take them with me, they will probably sit in some corner collecting old country dust, since I’ve never seen anyone playing double Dutch there. I mean, my cousin used to, but my mom tells me she’s a ballerina now. Figures. Bringing my ropes would only remind me of what I’d be missing back here in Brooklyn. So I just grab my diary off the dresser and sadly leave my ropes behind. At least I’ll have plenty of time to catch up on my entries. As for my double
