This Side of Jordan Read Free Page A

THEY AREN’T DONE YET, ARE THEY? YOU BET THEY AREN’T! NO SIRREE! THEY KNOW HOW HARD YOU’RE PULLING FOR THEM AND THEY’LL DO THEIR BEST TO SEE THEY DON’T LET YOU DOWN! YOU CAN COUNT ON IT!”
    Spectators in the grandstand rose to give the dancers a big ovation, several of whom appeared bewildered by the cheering. Since Dorothy was gone, Alvin hardly clapped at all. He didn’t much care who won now.
    The emcee grinned brightly as he spoke into the microphone again. “WHY, THEY’VE SURE GOT A LOT OF GUTS, ALL RIGHT, THESE KIDS OF OURS, DON’T THEY?”
    Alvin felt the wooden planks rumble under his feet from the roar that swept the auditorium as the orchestra struck up a boisterous “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” The emcee raised his voice. “BUT HONESTLY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HOW LONG CAN THEY LAST? I ASK YOU, HOW-LONG-CAN-THEY-LAST?”
    Across the floor, a knot of people in the loge seats began clapping. More coins showered the sluggish dancers. Alvin watched a homely nurse come out from the dressing room with a bottle of smelling salts. The orchestra played a couple bars of “Dixie.”
    â€œNOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE PROMISED YOU THESE KIDS WOULD DO THEIR BEST ON THE FLOOR, AND BELIEVE YOU ME, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THEY HAVE. OH, YOU BET THEY HAVE! NINE DAYS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, NINE DAYS, THEY’VE BATTLED NOT ONLY EACH OTHER, BUT FATHER TIME HIMSELF TO KEEP GOING BECAUSE, WHY, THEY JUST KNOW YOU’RE ALL BEHIND THEM! SURE, THEY’VE GOT BUNIONS AND BLISTERS, BUT OH, THEY’VE GOT MORE THAN ENOUGH GUTS, TOO, TO STICK IT OUT TO THE VERY END AND WIN THIS GREAT DANCE DERBY FAIR AND SQUARE FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO REALLY CARE TO SEE ’EM DO IT! WHAT DO YOU SAY ABOUT THAT?”
    The farm boy almost toppled over as the old bleachers shook under the ovation.
    â€œWELL, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT’S TIME TO TURN ON THE HEAT AGAIN, SO PICK OUT YOUR FAVORITE COUPLE AND GIVE ’EM A BREAK BECAUSE THEY’LL NEED ALL THE BOOST THEY CAN GET!”
    The emcee motioned to another heat judge waiting just off the platform. More people were crowding into the next row above, shoving along toward the center of the bleachers. Alvin felt like a sardine in his own row and considered switching seats to somewhere higher up.
    â€œMISTER CLARK, ARE YOU READY?”
    The bald heat judge nodded.
    A buzz swept through the audience.
    The emcee drew the microphone close while raising his right hand into the smoky air. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ARE YOU READY?”
    A further deafening cheer shook the building. Alvin craned his neck to see through the pack in front of him. A stout woman to his left jammed her elbow into his ribs to make room. He pushed back as the emcee announced to the auditorium spectators, “WELL, THEN, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LET’S SEE HOW LONG THESE BRAVE KIDS CAN LAST! MISTER CLARK, HOW ABOUT A SPRINT?” He turned to Turkel. “MAESTRO, GET READY TO GIVE!”
    The heat judge walked into the middle of the dance floor where a painted oval marked off a racetrack for the competitors. Alvin felt someone shove roughly into the row beside him.
    â€œSorry, kid,” the fellow said, as he wedged down between Alvin and the stout woman. He was wearing a felt fedora and a smart blue cassimere suit. “Some local yokel kept stepping on my foot up there.”
    He smelled like whiskey and hair tonic.
    â€œAin’t a lot of room here, neither,” Alvin muttered, watching the dance couples tie together for the sprint. He hated getting shoved, particularly when he didn’t feel well.
    â€œYou got a favorite?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œThis derby’s hired some real cutie pies, don’t you agree?”
    Alvin shrugged. “I seen a doll last week, but she ain’t here no more.” He watched Joe Norton fasten a belt onto Patsy’s waist for the sprint and give her a kiss on the cheek. Alvin hoped they’d