Free Show Time by Sue Stauffacher Page B

other end and began a playful tug-of-war. As they passed the Bakers’ fence, Harvey the dog started barking. Since getting a puppy of her own, Keisha had learned that barking was not just barking. It was playful, sad, angry. Harvey was an angry barker, a stay-out-of-my-yard-or-I-might-just-snap-your-nose-off barker. But Keisha suspected he was also a sad barker, an I-never-get-out-of-the-yard-to-go-for-a-walk barker.
    Rocket dove behind Keisha, barking back at Harvey. Rocket’s name used to be Racket, so Keisha had heard a lot of barking and howling from her coydog. But now that she thought about it, it was hardly ever angry or sad.
    “Poor Harvey,” Keisha told Rocket. “He has the same routine every day. Wake up, bark at people on the other side of the fence, eat dinner, go to sleep. Wake up. Do it again.”
    Whoa.
    Keisha sat down on a pile of snow, and she didn’t even have her snow pants on. She was having a dizzy-making thought. She realized that she’d used the same word—routine—to describe what she did in jump rope, what Razi did in dance class and what Harvey did in the Bakers’ yard.
    What did that word mean anyway?
    Rocket brought her back to her mission by piddling on the Bakers’ mailbox. You couldn’t clean that up! Keisha piled some snow over the yellow marks and swatted more snow off her bottom. Then she raced Rocket back to the house.
    Inside, she wiped Rocket’s paws and ran upstairs to change into “going out” clothes. “Can we bring my jump rope?” Keisha asked Mama. Since they only had one vehicle, everybody had to go early with Mama. This guaranteed great seats for the performance, but gave them a lot of time to hang around while Mama made last-minute alterations to the costumes and Ms. Allen and Ms. Perry checked the sound system and gave the children their final instructions.
    Mama pulled Keisha’s jump rope off the peg by the door and stuffed it in her big purse. “As long as you stay out of the way, I’m sure no one will mind.”
    Once they’d arrived, Keisha told Grandma she wanted to find a quiet spot to practice her jump rope routine.
    That was easier said than done with snowflakes dancing down the halls and stair dancers tapping up and down every step.
    “I’m sticking with you,” Grandma told Keisha.“I want to see it for the first time on the big stage.”
    While Daddy and Paulo practiced walking up the carpeted auditorium steps, Grandma and Keisha found a short hall that no performers seemed to have claimed.
    “I’m going to invent a new yoga pose while we’re waiting,” Grandma said, pressing her palms into the wall. “Are you going to practice your freestyle routine?”
    Keisha shook her head. “Not tonight. Right now, I’m going to do the opposite of my routine. I call it … ‘fun roping,’ instead of jump roping.”

    They could hear the pianist warming up her snowflake music. It sounded like whispers and swinginess. Keisha started to jump to the music, which wasn’t like typical routine music with a heavy beat. It was so easy to jump when no one was watching you. Keisha just wanted to feel the music with her jump rope. The snowflakes came out of the piano and whistled past her. She could feel the cold air on her cheeks. It felt like … Keisha did an overhand turn and landed in a squat. Shekept jumping from a squat until another swish of wind blew her into a crisscross turn into a scissors kick.
    By the time Daddy called to them to take their seats, Grandma had stopped inventing poses and was watching Keisha. But Keisha didn’t notice either of them right away. She was a skittering snowflake blowing over a snowy landscape.
    The motto at Celia Cruz Performing Arts School was “Jump-stART every day with art!” The mid-winter festival was an old tradition, meant to help everyone remember why they loved snow and ice, since folks in Michigan were getting a little tired of them by mid-February. So the Cruzies celebrated with a big concert, featuring