Love Double Dutch!

I pull open the rickety doors of the old, run-down community center gym, praying Ms. Jackson doesn’t see me sneaking in. She is one short, curvy lady who used to be double Dutch champion in her day, so she doesn’t play when it comes to tardiness. Even if I’m five minutes early, I’m considered late. Ugh! She’s so hard to please. Good, she’s busy directing the junior coaches. Dang. It’s crowded this year. As soon as the double Dutch league came to Bedford-Stuyvesant, it seemed like every kid who thought they could jump joined quicker than they could post flyers around town. There are even boys here. What? Really? Ever since some boys from Japan showed up at the Holiday Classic at the Apollo-one of my dream competitions two years in a row and won the whole thing, suddenly all the boys in Brooklyn think they can jump too. Cute, but whatever. Girls still rule. Boys… hmm, maybe that’s why this graffiti-covered gym is twice as funky as it usually is. Some of these kids need to learn to use deodorant. For reals.

I don’t know if my heart is beating hard out of fear of Ms. Jackson seeing me or because the sound of the ropes hitting the floor is inviting me to the National Jump-off at the end of the summer. It feels like I’ve waited my whole life to compete in the nationals-well, since fifth grade and now it’s finally here. No longer will I compete against girls my age and younger and be known as “one of the best middle schoolers” in Brooklyn. I finally have the opportunity to compete with the older kids for the chance at becoming a junior high national champion. And that’s exactly what I plan to do. Even at practice, other kids show respect because I’m always wearing my game face and I hold the title for speed. Now I’m here to win bragging rights for another year and on a whole new level. So it doesn’t matter if we have to jump double Dutch in a funky cardboard box. I want to make it to the jump-off.

I see my team-Mimi, Nikki, Drea, and Eva-sitting on the floor. What?