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“Goodness gracious.” Keisha looked down to see Sister Mary-Lee peering up at her. “What is Keisha doing on that ladder? Is it perfectly safe?”

“Nothing is perfectly safe, Sister Mary-Lee,” Grandma said. “Even standing outside this building.” The way Grandma looked over at Jim, Keisha thought her guess about who had dumped the snow on them was right.

“It was me who snowed them,” Jim said, twisting his hat in his hands. “I said sorry.”

“I don’t understand.” Sister Mary-Lee looked to the president for clarification, but he was trying to help Keisha find the right place.

“I think we’ll need to move the ladder a little. Shakespeare would be in Drama, just over here, next to English Literature.”

“Well …,” Sister Mary-Lee continued. “I will leave you to your work. I forgot to get the proofs for the
Alumni Magazine.
And you know how particular Mr. Fahey is about typos.”

“I see. Jim, I notice that Keisha’s fingers are covered in dust. I’ll hold this ladder steady while you get some wood polish and a dusting cloth. Any progress up there, young lady?”

Jim left the room with his head down.
The poor guy keeps messing up,
Keisha thought.

“Not yet.” Keisha went back to examining the shelf. Nothing had touched down on these shelves for a long time. A cold draft of air blew by her cheek. She looked up to see a ceiling vent with the metal cover hanging loose.

“Or maybe …” Keisha leaned over and tried to push the cover back into place. Crumbles of plaster fell onto the president’s Persian rug.

“What’s going on up there?” Grandma wanted to know. “Is that the cold-air register?”

“Oh my, oh dear …” Sister Mary-Lee was at a loss for words. “I’ll get the dustpan.”

Keisha started down the ladder. As she hopped off, Sister Mary-Lee returned, pan in hand. There was a flurry of activity as the president and Sister Mary-Lee worked to clean up the plaster.

“It would be much safer to examine that register from the floor above,” Sister Mary-Lee said. “And that’s where I need to go. I’ll take you two ladies there on my way to get the proofs.”

“Wait a minute, Sister.” Grandma took the dustpan out of her hands and picked through the plaster. She held up a powdery peanut shell. “President Kellogg, I doubt you eat peanuts and throw the shells on the floor.”

“I can’t have that near me.…” President Kellogg backed away. “I most certainly do not. I am mildly allergic to peanuts. I never eat them.”

“Well, squirrels do. And if you have a peanut allergy, it’s even more important that we get to the bottom of this”—Grandma pointed up—“by going to the top of this.…”

“Oh, Mrs. Carter,” said Sister Mary-Lee. “I’m not sure a woman your age—”

“Not the ladder. The building, as you suggested.
We’re right behind you.” Grandma emptied the pan into the president’s waste can.

“I’ll take this as well,” she said, and carried the trash can along with her. “We may find more clues. Keisha? Coming?”

Keisha followed the older ladies out the door.

“I can’t imagine …,” Sister Mary-Lee fussed as they got into the elevator. Grandma pushed the button. Keisha noticed she pressed #4, not #2, but she didn’t say anything. Grandma must have a plan. “There haven’t been peanuts in the building since … We all know not to bake anything with peanuts.”

Grandma and Keisha glanced at one another as the elevator went up. These peanuts were their biggest clue so far.

“And even with the whole ones, we never went anywhere near the president’s office. Oh dear,” she said as the elevator doors opened. “This is the fourth floor.”

“Well, as long as we’re here …” Grandma stepped out of the elevator. “I know you’re busy, Sister Mary-Lee, but we need to have a look. I’m sure President Kellogg would approve. Keisha?”

“Me too.” Keisha took Grandma’s lead. “If peanuts make the president sick, then we really have to keep them out of this building.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say sick, but they do make him
flush. He gets red from his chin to the top of his head. But how will being on the fourth floor help?”

“Take us to the room that would be above the president’s office.”

“But the president’s office is on the first floor. We’re on the fourth.”

“Is this the top floor?”

“Why, yes it is.”

“And can we get out onto the flat part of that roof?” Grandma asked, peering out the window in the hall.

Once again, Keisha wondered what Grandma was up to … the thought of going out on the roof must give Grandma the willies.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve gone out there, of course, but not since …” Sister Mary-Lee stopped herself. She looked as if she’d just been caught doing something wrong.

“What is it, Sister Mary-Lee?” Grandma handed Keisha the wastebasket and took the sister’s hand. “What is it you’re not telling us?”

“Well, on a nice summer day … or even sometimes in the winter, I used to climb out and toss peanuts down to the squirrels. We have bird feeders on the campus. Why not squirrel feeders? It doesn’t make sense. The poor things. I believe they’re all the same in God’s eyes. And I’m not the only one.”

While Grandma and Sister Mary-Lee were talking, Keisha fished around in the garbage can. Amidst the balls of crumpled paper, the plaster dust and a few broken pencils, she found a piece of tar paper. That was strange. And it looked like it had been nibbled! She jammed it in her pocket to discuss later with Grandma.

“But you stopped feeding them, didn’t you?” Grandma prompted Sister Mary-Lee.

“Of course. It was a direct request from the president.”

“And what did you do with the peanuts?”

“I don’t remember. I must have asked Jim to bring the barrel down.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, yes, I think I’m sure, but when I get very busy … I don’t know … things sometimes slip through the cracks. Maybe I didn’t.” She paused. “Oh dear. If it’s up there now, it will be under a foot of snow.”

Unless someone found it when they were clearing off the roof,
Keisha thought,
someone who liked the little fellers a lot.

Grandma undid the window latch and pushed up the window. “Keisha, dear, be a good girl and lean out this window. Tell me if you see any peanut barrels lying around.”

Keisha walked into the gym at Aberdeen Elementary and tapped the rubber mat three times for good luck. The stands were already full. There were seven schools in their district, and since she’d started jumping in third grade, the crowds at the district meet had grown bigger every year. Only one team would advance to the district regionals. Last year, it was Cesar Chavez. But this year, Langston Hughes had a good chance to win.

Keisha was competing in three events: single speed, double-Dutch speed and freestyle. She took a belly breath and looked up into the stands. Grandma Alice was in her cheerleading uniform, a snazzy tracksuit she’d found at Encore Consignment and sewed “Steppers #1” onto in the school colors. Mama and Daddy were next to her. Daddy held Paulo, sucking his fingers and looking wide-eyed at the crowd. He must have just awakened from his nap. Mama was scanning the stands for Razi. Her eyes met Keisha’s and she waved to her daughter.

Where was Razi? Keisha shook her head. Not her problem. She went over to her teammates, huddled together in the corner, and pressed in between Marcus
and Jorge. Everyone put their arms around each other and leaned in so that Coach Rose—who was kneeling in the middle of the circle—could give his last instructions.

“Marcus, Aaliyah, Jorge, I’m hoping for a personal best in the speed jumping. Keisha, Wen, Lindsey, you all have the potential to place.” Coach Rose went through every member of the team and gave them a goal to shoot for.

When he got to the freestyle jumping, Keisha noticed he didn’t mention her name first, as he usually
did. Instead, he said, “Marcus, even though it’s new, your routine can place if you ace it.”

Marcus stepped on the handles of his rope and smiled at the ground. “Keisha’s the one who made it up.”

“And you’re the one who’s going to nail it.” Coach Rose put a hand on Wen’s and Keisha’s shoulders. “FFGGs”—the extra G was for the girls—“now is your time to show these other jumpers what fierce competitors you can be—here
and
in Detroit.”

When their coach had finished, the Steppers dropped their ropes and piled their hands in the center on top of his head. “One—two—three.” Coach Rose signaled the cheer.

“Steppers, step out! Gooooooo, Steppers.” The Langston Hughes side of the bench erupted in cheers. Grandma gave Keisha a Grandpa Wally Pops whistle, high and shrill; it always got her looks.

Aaliyah threw her arm around Keisha as both girls put their hands over their hearts for the playing of the national anthem. The music made Keisha think of Sarge and the other vets at the facility. Maybe, if they scored top points today, she’d ask Daddy if Sarge could ride along to the district regional meet in Detroit.

As the music died down, people took their seats, but Grandma remained standing, making her hands into
the shape of a megaphone. “Cat walk, dog run, get out there and have some fun!”

This brought a big cheer from the crowd. The meet had officially started. The girls went over to the far corner of the gym where the speed-jump heats would be happening. Aaliyah and Wen would compete here first. Keisha had her freestyle event first, but she could warm up for that anywhere.

Aaliyah started jogging up and down, bringing her knees up to her navel. Wen used her rope, alternating slow and fast rotations.

The jumpers from Aberdeen were fast. So were the kids from the Southeast Academic Center. They seemed to have gotten even faster since the individual meets. Aaliyah didn’t appear to notice the other jumpers at all. She’d grabbed a rope and was doing easy double unders.

“Want to warm up on double Dutch for speed?” Aaliyah asked. Keisha could see that her friend’s forehead was already shining. She grabbed a towel out of the bin.

“I want to do a few moves from my routine first.” Keisha patted Aaliyah’s forehead. Her hair was braided with her lucky competition beads. “At least the advanced ones,” Keisha said. Coach Rose wouldn’t let them put a move into their routine until they could hit it nine times out of ten. Keisha faced the wall and
went through the harder parts of her program: side-step crisscross into a scissors crisscross, sideways bell, knee-to-shoulder, drop-down squat jump—

“Keisha Carter, Renee Proha, Emmarene Johnson.” Keisha listened to the names being called out over the loudspeaker, an indication that it was time to report to your event. She felt something heavy squeeze in between her tummy and her throat. As she trotted over to the freestyle event, Keisha tried to remember to breathe.

She sat cross-legged at the edge of the mat, waiting for the judges to finish scoring a jumper from C. A. Frost. When they looked up and motioned to her, Keisha stood up, tapped the rubber mat with her foot three times for luck and jogged to the middle of the taped-out square.

Just as she was about to say “Judges ready?” she caught a glimpse of her brother swinging from the side of the bleachers. He dropped to the floor, ran around, scrambled up three stairs and launched himself into Daddy’s arms.

“Go, Key! Go, Key!” he screamed, waving his tiny parasols in crazy circles.

Keisha focused her eyes on the floor, trying to block out the distraction. “Judges ready?” she asked the table.

“Judges ready,” came the answer.

She looked over at Coach Rose. He started her music.
Keisha took a deep breath and swung the rope. Grandma whistled.

After that, it was all a blur. Later, she remembered doing the basic jumps she’d included to get warmed up: tiptoe skip into a twister for four beats, then a half turn, then a crisscross. But somewhere near the beginning, a thought crept in. She’d kept the cancan turn into a heel skip in her routine. It was coming up. Just the thought made her swing her rope faster. Before she knew it, the rope caught her toe. Keisha started again. She moved into her cancan turn. Her legs felt like lead! After three kicks, her rope caught her toe again. Keisha wanted to run off the mat, but the music kept going. She had to finish.

“Go, Key! Go, Key!” she heard Razi yell just before she finished. She tried to lift her head up and smile at the end, but all she could manage was a nod before scrunching up her shoulders and running off the mat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a couple of the Aberdeen Skippers watching her. They didn’t make fun of her bad performance. You could see they felt sorry for her.

That was almost worse! If only Razi hadn’t distracted her!

The rest of the meet rushed along. Keisha did all
right in single speed jumping, but she got tangled in the rope twice during double-Dutch speed. That had
never
happened before. The way Aaliyah yelled encouragement had never bothered her before, either. In fact, hearing her friend’s encouragement every few swings had always kept Keisha’s energy high: “Hit it! You got it! Harder, Key!”

But today, the way Aaliyah yelled put her off her rhythm.

“Next time, don’t shout out,” she told Aaliyah as they walked off the floor.