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皮筋升到头顶的那十分钟
皮筋啪地抽在水泥地上，弹起来，正好勾住我的鞋帮。我顺势把右脚往上一挑，皮筋就爬到了脚踝。这是第一关，谁都能过。真正的比赛从膝盖那一关开始。
撑皮筋的是李悦和章小禾。她们把皮筋绷在两条腿之间，绷得笔直，像一根拉紧的琴弦。我站在两步开外，盯着那根白色的细绳。跳的人要先喊出关卡的名字：小举、中举、大举。喊到大举的时候，皮筋已经架在撑皮筋人的腰上，我们得跳起来才能够到它。
第二关，我往皮筋里踩进去，左脚压住绳，右脚从外面绕过来，脚尖一勾，把皮筋甩到身后，再跳回来。整套动作要在两秒钟里做完，手上还要跟着翻花。啪，啪，啪，皮筋打地的声音混着我们的数数声，一、二、三，整个操场就我们这一小块地方最响。
王朵朵过中举那一关时出了岔子。她跨进去，转身，皮筋缠住了马尾辫。她辫子一甩，皮筋弹回李悦的小腿上，两个人都笑了，笑得跳不动，蹲在地上。旁边看低年级女生跳的男生起哄：输了输了，换我们！李悦冲他们挥手：去去去，一边玩去。男生们其实也想跳，只是嘴上说那是女孩子玩的。他们抱着篮球在旁边转，转了三圈，就是不走。
到了大举，皮筋架在章小禾的胳膊底下，离地快有一米。我后退三步，助跑，单脚踩进皮筋围出的圈里，另一条腿从皮筋上面跨过去，腰一拧，整个人像翻一个小跟头那样翻回来。落地时鞋底的胶皮蹭地一响，围观的人齐声喊好。那一声好，比上课铃还让人高兴。
我们跟撑皮筋的人商量，再跳一关，就一关。皮筋升到头顶，得跳起来用手去够。我够了一次没够着，指甲划过皮筋，皮筋嗡地弹开，抽在手上，有点疼。就是这点疼也没人当回事，大家都抢着再上。
上课铃响了。皮筋收下来，缠在李悦的手腕上，像一圈白镯子。我们散开的时候，腿还在痒，脑子里全是啪啪的声音。那十分钟里没有人说课间真开心，可每个人跑回教室的时候都在笑。教室里安静下来，黑板前粉笔开始写字。我翻开课本，第一行字看了三遍，没看进去。我在等下课。
The Ten Minutes the Rubber Band Rose to Our Heads
The rubber band slapped the concrete and bounced up, hooking exactly onto my shoe. I flicked my right foot and the band climbed to my ankle. That was the first level, easy for everyone. The real contest began at the knees.
Li Yue and Zhang Xiaohe held the band stretched between their legs, pulled tight as a guitar string. I stood two steps away, eyes on the thin white line. The jumper had to call out each level by name: low, middle, high. When someone called high, the band already sat at the waist of the holder, and we had to jump just to touch it.
At the second level I stepped into the loop, pressed the rope down with my left foot, swung my right foot around from outside, hooked it with my toe, flung the band behind me, and hopped back. The whole move had to finish in two seconds, while my hands turned a flower pattern. Slap, slap, slap, the band hitting the ground mixed with our counting, one, two, three. The loudest corner of the whole playground was our small square.
Wang Duoduo got into trouble at the middle level. She stepped in, turned, and the band tangled in her ponytail. She flicked her braid, the band snapped back onto the calf of Li Yue, and both of them burst out laughing, laughing until they crouched down. Boys watching the younger girls shouted: You lost, our turn! Li Yue waved them off. Go away, go away. The boys actually wanted to jump too, they only said it was a game for girls. They circled nearby holding a basketball, three laps around, refusing to leave.
At the high level the band sat under the arms of Zhang Xiaohe, nearly a meter off the ground. I backed up three steps, ran in, stamped one foot into the loop, swung the other leg over the band, twisted my waist, and flipped my whole body back like a small somersault. On landing my rubber sole squeaked on the ground, and everyone watching shouted bravo. That single bravo made me happier than any bell.
We bargained with the two holding the band: one more level, just one. The band rose to the top of our heads, and we had to jump and reach with our hands. I reached once and missed, my nails scraping the band, which hummed loose and stung my hand a little. Nobody minded the sting. Everyone pushed forward to try again.
The class bell rang. The band came down and wound around the wrist of Li Yue like a white bracelet. As we scattered, our legs still itched and our heads were full of slapping sounds. Nobody said that break was fun, yet everyone was smiling on the way back to class. The room went quiet, chalk began to write on the blackboard. I opened the textbook and read the first line three times without taking it in. I was waiting for the next bell.
毽子在脚背上跳了二十一下
下课铃刚响，周航就从书包侧袋里掏出毽子，往天上一抛，脚背一抬，毽子稳稳落回来，再弹起。他就这样踢着穿过走廊，下楼，一直踢到操场边的水泥台上。毽子在他脚背上跳了二十一下，一下没掉。
毽子是羽毛的，四根白毛插在一枚铁钱上，底座缠着蓝胶布，磨得发亮。那是他奶奶缝的。班里其他人看见那个蓝底座，就知道周航要开踢了。三三两两的人围过来，自动站成一个圈，把中间让给他。
周航平时话少，坐在倒数第二排，课间也趴在桌上。可毽子一离地，他整个人就不一样了。眼睛跟着羽毛走，脖子一伸一伸，脚腕像上了发条。毽子歪了，他右脚往外一撇，用脚外侧把毽子捞回来，围观的人哇一声。这一下比说话响亮多了。
数数的人是他同桌。同桌把书包往地上一放，仰着头数：十二、十三、十四。数到十七，毽子被风带偏，飘向花坛。周航跟着跑，眼看毽子要落进冬青叶子底下，他一个箭步，膝盖弯下去，脚背朝天一挑，毽子从花坛沿上弹起来，又落回他的脚上。数数的同桌跳起来喊：十八！有人喊：这球该算两下。没人认真争，都在笑。
圈里的人手也痒了。踢毽子好的女生陈果挤进来，说轮流踢，断了换人。周航让出位置，退到圈边，可他的脚一直在地上空踢，跟着别人的毽子比划。陈果踢了三十一个，最后毽子落在她自己的脚后跟上，弹出去老远。她懊恼地拍了一下腿，周围的人笑得比她踢到三十一个的时候还响。
轮到胖墩儿马壮。毽子落在他脚背上，咚一声，像砸在石墩上，弹起来半米高，他再去接，接不着，毽子钻进人堆。大家低头找毽子，铁钱底座从一只鞋底下露出来。马壮挠头，说这毽子认生。一句话，圈里又笑成一片。
上课铃响的时候，毽子正落在周航手里。他把毽子攥进掌心，往回走，圈自动散开，又自动排成回教室的队。走廊上没人说话，可每个人的脚步都比上课前轻。周航把毽子塞回书包侧袋，蓝底座朝外，露出一小截。他经过走廊的窗，玻璃上映出他的影子，那个平时趴在桌上的影子，今天走路带着风。
The Shuttlecock Bounced Twenty-One Times on His Instep
The moment the bell rang, Zhou Hang pulled a shuttlecock from the side pocket of his schoolbag, tossed it up, lifted his instep, and caught it steady on the way down, bouncing it again. He kicked it all the way through the corridor, down the stairs, and onto the concrete platform by the playground. The shuttlecock bounced twenty-one times on his instep without touching the ground.
It was a feather shuttlecock, four white feathers stuck onto a metal coin, its base wrapped in blue tape worn shiny. His grandmother had sewn it. When the others in class spotted that blue base, they knew Zhou Hang was starting. People drifted over in twos and threes and formed a ring, leaving the middle to him.
Zhou Hang rarely spoke. He sat in the second-to-last row and usually lay on his desk during breaks. But once the shuttlecock left the ground, he became someone else. His eyes followed the feathers, his neck stretched out, his ankle wound like a clockwork spring. When the birdie tilted, he splayed his right foot and scooped it back with the outer edge, and the crowd went wow. That sound said more than any sentence he ever spoke.
The counter was his deskmate, who dropped his bag on the ground and counted with his head tilted up: twelve, thirteen, fourteen. At seventeen the wind carried the birdie off toward the flower bed. Zhou Hang chased it. Just as it was about to drop under the wintergreen leaves, he lunged, bent his knee, flipped his instep to the sky, and the shuttlecock sprang off the edge of the bed back onto his foot. The deskmate jumped up shouting: eighteen! Someone yelled that one should count double. Nobody argued seriously. Everyone was laughing.
Hands in the ring started itching too. Chen Guo, the best kicker among the girls, pushed in and proposed taking turns, next person when it drops. Zhou Hang gave up his spot and stepped to the edge, but his foot kept ghost-kicking in the air, mimicking every touch of the birdie. Chen Guo reached thirty-one before the shuttlecock landed on her own heel and flew far off. She smacked her leg in frustration, and the ring laughed louder than when she had hit thirty-one.
Then it was Ma Zhuang the big kid. The birdie dropped on his instep with a thud, like hitting a stone block, popped half a meter up, and he could not catch it again. It dived into the crowd. Everyone bent down hunting for it until the metal base peeked out from under the shoe of a bystander. Ma Zhuang scratched his head and said the shuttlecock was shy with strangers. The ring erupted again.
When the class bell rang, the shuttlecock was in the hand of Zhou Hang. He closed his palm around it and walked back. The ring dissolved and reformed itself into a line heading to class. Nobody talked in the corridor, yet every step landed lighter than before class. Zhou Hang tucked the birdie back into the side pocket, blue base facing out, a sliver showing. Passing the corridor window, his shadow appeared in the glass, and that shadow that usually lay on a desk was walking today like it carried wind.
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