“Are we going to jump rope or sit here gawking at each other all day

Racing the Rope: Author’s favorite part

I chose this excerpt because I think it illustrates another level of the story that may not be as apparent given the overall synopsis of the book. This is a scene halfway through the story when Geran meets his teacher’s son, who is sick with a life-threatening illness. Geran has prompted his class to join together and use their jump rope skills to help raise money at the community fund-raiser for Gordy’s treatment. It’s at this point in the story that Geran realizes that Gordy is just a regular little kid with many pre-conceived notions about jump roping.

“Are we going to jump rope or sit here gawking at each other all day?” he asked, stunning the crowd. Everyone cheered, and Hector ran to join us. We were now complete. What once was a class torn in half by an imposed gender boundary had become a class united for the common good.

When the hubbub died down Hector asked, “What’s the kid’s name we’re doing this for?”

This is when I realized, for the first time, that I didn’t know anything about Mr. Benton’s kid. Not his age, his condition, his favorite color, his dreams, or where he went to school. Then the big question dawned on me. Was this still an event planned for the benefit of Mr. Benton’s kid or was I using this as an excuse to be noticed?

I was horrified by the possible answer, so later that evening I sought to get a better understanding of what this fund-raiser was all about. I did a very brash thing. I found Mr. Benton’s phone number in the telephone book and called him. I asked for permission to come for a visit to meet his son. “Sure, I guess, if your mom or dad comes with you.”

By seven o’clock we were on our way. He didn’t live too far from me, actually. It took us ten minutes by car to get there. He lived off the main road down a long driveway that twisted and turned like a snake for a half mile. A little brown house with dark brown shutters greeted us at the end of the path.

My father turned off the car at the end of the driveway and put his hand on my knee. “I’m proud of you, Geran,” he said, staring intensely into my eyes.

I nodded, and the two of us stepped from the car and walked to the front door. It opened before we had a chance to knock. “Hello,” Mr. Benton said. It was strange seeing him out of place. It didn’t seem to fit. He was wearing ordinary clothes and his hair didn’t seem as tidy as I was used to seeing it.

“I hope you’re getting on without me,” he smiled. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”

“This is my father,” I introduced. My father extended his hand.

“We met at Parent Night, but that was way back in October.”

Mr. Benton laughed. “I see so many people it’s sometimes hard to keep track of everyone.” He ruffled my hair. “I was blown away by your offer to come to the fund-raiser, Geran. That day when you wanted to jump rope I never thought you would be as good as you were. I’ve seen quite a change in the class since you all started cooperating. So has Mrs. Smith. Perhaps it’s time to start asking for some privileges back.”

This time it was my father ruffling my hair. I was bound to look like Animal from the Muppets before the night was over.

“Gordy!” Mr. Benton yelled. “You have company.” He turned back to us. “Have a seat.”

My father and I sat side by side on the loveseat. Seconds later the aforementioned Gordy came barreling out into the living room with his hands out in front of him. He was making revving noises, pretending that he was on a motorcycle. He screeched as he slammed on the breaks.

“Calm down, Harley boy,” Mr. Benton said. The boy regarded me with curious eyes, one of which seemed droopier than the other. “This is Geran and his father. They stopped down to say hello. Geran is organizing a jump rope troop to perform at the fund-raiser. He wanted to meet you.”

“Hello,” he said. He stepped off his invisible bike and put down the kickstand. “I like that name. It’s a good name.”

“I wish I could agree, Gordy, but I get teased a lot. I’m named after a flowering plant.”

“It was his mother’s idea,” my dad said. This wasn’t true, last I knew.

“It’s better than my name,” Gordy sighed. “People treat you different if you have a dumb name. Did you ever wonder how different your life would have been if your name was Bert or Harold?”

“Not really,” I said. “Do you actually think my life would be significantly different if I had a corny name?”

“No doubt about it,” Gordy said. “Why do you think I want everyone to call me ‘Gordy?’ Who on earth would even speak to me if I was called ‘Gordon’ in public?”

“I don’t think it’s the name that makes the difference, but how you feel about your name. It’s kind of like the difference in how you feel when you’re wearing something you really consider cool, rather than something you’re not comfortable in. It’s all mental.”

“I’m not mental,” Gordy laughed, pointing at me in accusatory fashion.

“How old are you?”

“Eight,” he said.

“You seem older,” I returned.

“I feel older,” he said.

“How do you feel now?” I asked.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” he said.

“Then let’s go outside and hang,” I suggested. “It’s nice.”

Gordy exchanged glances with his father, and Mr. Benton nodded. “Fifteen minutes, kiddo. You have homework to do still.”

It was nice outside, but getting dark. The falling sun was eclipsed by the trees surrounding their little home, which made it seem even darker. We stepped off the porch onto the dirt pathway. “You don’t look as sick as I thought you would,” I said.

Gordy pulled off his red baseball cap, revealing his scalp. “I cover the baldness with my hat. Most people can’t tell if I’m wearing my hat. But if I take my hat off people will look at me like I’m a lost puppy.”

“Do you like that?”

“No,” he said. “But I hardly notice anymore. Anyway, the doctors think I can beat this. Lots of people are helping. Thanks for coming to the community party. That’s kind of weird that you jump rope. My sister jumps rope. The girls at my school jump rope. My mother jumped rope before she got big . . . never saw a boy jump rope.”

“I get that a lot,” I said. A stiff wind slipped down my back and pinched my skin. “Don’t worry, though, it’s as much for boys as it is for girls.”

“Show me,” he said, adjusting his cap so that it was backwards on his head.

I shrugged. “Get me a rope and I’ll give you a sneak peek.”

Gordy didn’t say a word. He dashed off into the house where I had left my father in the company of Mr. Benton, whom he hardly even knew. They were probably sipping coffee and, knowing my father, talking about the essence of life and religion.

Two minutes later, Gordy burst through the door and tossed a white rope at me. The handles were purple and it was obviously used. One of the handles was cracked. I dropped the rope at my feet and tossed back my head. I noticed Gordy glaring at me with a curious expression. “What?”

“You kind of look like a koala bear,” he said.

“I get that a lot too,” I said. “Are you ready to see me go electric?”

“Sure.”

As was my tradition, I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath, stepped over the rope, counted silently to three, then tossed that lasso over my head and started the cycle. I beat the ground with the rope a dozen times before starting the jingle.

             “Bubble gum, bubble gum, penny a packet, First you chew it, Then you crack it, Then you stick it in your jacket, Then your parents kick up a racket. Bubble gum, bubble gum, penny a packet!”

               While I chanted the rhyme I skipped around in a ferocious circle. I was whipping it so fast I must have been done within ten seconds. I stood there afterward panting like a dehydrated retriever. I had nearly forgotten that I was being watched.

               “Is that it?” he asked.

               I captured a large breath. “I told you only a peek. I don’t want to ruin the surprise. We’re going to be doing all sorts of things. We’ve been handing out flyers all over so that a lot of people come and give money.”

               “Cool,” he said. “It’ll be fun. There is going to be lots of pizza. I have to go inside for now. I have to do homework and I’m getting tired.”

               “Okay,” I said. I handed him back the rope, which he received cautiously, as if handling a newfound treasure. “It was nice meeting you. I’ll see you at the fund-raiser.”

               He smiled. There were spaces in between each of his four front teeth. I followed him back into the house. My father was waiting patiently where I had left him. We bid farewell to Mr. Benton, and the meeting was over not even a half hour after it had started.

               “So?” my father inquired as we were pulling away. “Do you feel better now?”

               I hardly needed to think about that. “I like him,” I said. Yes, I did. He was a good kid. He didn’t deserve to be sick. “Now I know what I’m doing this for.”

               “It’s certainly a lot nobler than doing it for some silly crown. You’re a true leader, Geran. Your own classmates know this.”

               I smiled as the wheels on the car hummed beneath me. “Yeah.”