The Hula-Hoopin' Queen' read by Oprah Winfrey

Welcome to Storyline Online, brought to you by the SAG-AFTRA Foundation. I'm Oprah Winfrey and today I'm going to be reading The Hula Hooping Queen, written by Thelma Lynn Godin and illustrated by Vanessa Brantley Newton. Today is the day I'm going to beat Jamar Johnson at hooping. Then I'll be the hula hooping queen of 139th Street. Jamar says she's going to be the queen forever, but last week I almost beat her. I sort through my hoops and then I pick out my favorite and then I feel it coming on, the itch, the hula hooping itch. My fingers start snapping and my feet start tapping. My hips start swinging and I'm just reaching for a hoop when mama says, Girl, don't you even think about it. You know today is Miss Adeline's birthday. Then heat washes up over me and I stamp my foot. Don't get me wrong, I love Miss Adeline. She lives right next door. Miss Adeline took care of mama when she was little and then she took care of me too. She's like my very own grandmama. But mama, I burst out, I can't help with Miss Adeline's party. I'm supposed to meet Jamar. Today's the day. Mama stands as still as water in a puddle. She gives me her look and then she hands me a broom. I sigh loudly, then I start sweeping. But when mama's not watching, I push my favorite hoop a little closer to the door with my toe. Mama and I dust every room and scrub down the floors. We polish each window till we can see clear to New Jersey. After that, I peel potatoes while mama starts mixing up a special double fudge chocolate cake. Kamika, set that oven to 350 degrees, mama says, as she empties the last of the sugar into the mixing bowl and add sugar to the grocery list. Well, I push the button on the oven and I look out the window. It's already getting late. I bet Jamar is telling everybody I'm too scared to hoop her. While the cake bakes, we make up plates of fancy sandwiches. Then mama slices strawberries and shows me how to make whipped cream. When the timer rings, mama opens the oven. Kamika, mama yells as she checks the oven temperature. You only set it to 250 degrees. Miss Adeline's birthday cake looks like someone sat on it. Mama says we'll have to start over. Mama sends me to the store to buy more sugar. On my way out the door, I grab a hoop like I usually do. But when I get outside, I remember that I'm on a mission. Miss Adeline's party will be starting in a couple of hours. Mama has to finish a potato salad and we still have to make another cake. I don't even twirl my hoop as I hurry down the street. I don't stop to blow kisses to Miss Evelyn or wave to Mr. John in the bakery. I'm coming out of the store when I see Jamara and Portia hooping on the corner of 139th and Broadway. We thought you weren't coming, Kamika, says Jamara with a smirk. I need to get the sugar back to mama, but Jamara sounds so smug, I can't stand it. Well, you thought wrong, I tell her. You ready, she asks. I was born ready. And then I feel it coming on, the itch, the hula hooping itch. Whoever hoops the longest is the winner, Portia says. As soon as she shouts, go, my fingers start snapping. And my feet start tapping. My hips start swinging. And I just know I'm going to beat Jamara today. Neighborhood kids crowd around as Jamara and I hoop. Cars honk and slow down. Trucks roar past, throwing up heat and dust from the pavement. Swish, swish, Jamara frowns. You've been practicing some, she says. That's right, girl. The grin greater than the Brooklyn Bridge stretches across my face. The sun moves between the buildings and the sidewalk starts cooling down. But Jamara and me keep on hooping. I've got donuts for Miss Adeline's party, Mr. John calls out as he closes up the bakery. Swish, wiggle, swish, wiggle. Miss Adeline's cake, I shout. My hoop clatters to the sidewalk. I grab it and sugar and race up the block. I can hear Jamara just laughing behind me. By the time I reach our apartment, Mama is madder than a hornet. Kamika Hayes, she scolds. I'm sorry, Mama. I saw Jamara and... Girl, I don't want to hear that hula hooping nonsense. It's too late now. Miss Adeline's already here. You take yourself on into the living room and explain to Miss Adeline why she won't have a cake for her birthday. Miss Adeline brought her own music and she's got it turned up loud. She's sitting and she's listening to a jazzy blues tune. She nodding her head like a spring robin looking for a worm. Hi, Miss Adeline, I say. Happy birthday. Kamika, come here, baby. Come here and give me a kiss. So I come in close and I kiss Miss Adeline's soft cheek and then I whisper in her ear. You don't really like cake much, do you? Baby girl, you know I sure do love cake. Chocolate cake with strawberries and real whipped cream on top. She pats my arm. Oh, yes, that's my favorite cake. Miss Adeline smiles at me. I try to smile back, but my heart is racing as fast as the roller coaster at Coney Island. I can't tell her about the cake just yet. Pretty soon the neighbors start arriving. Miss Evelyn's wearing her Sunday church hat and Mr. John's all spruced up in a pinstripe suit. Jamar and Portia sashay in with their parents. They're still carrying their hoops from earlier today. Girls, I don't want to see any hoops, says Mama firmly to Jamar and Portia. Okay, Mrs. Hayes, says Jamar. She flashes her big smirking smile at me. Kamika, you're about done with hooping after today, aren't you? I smile right back at her. Don't you bet on it, Jamar. Most of the presents are still unopened when Miss Adeline says, Well, I do believe it's time for birthday cake. I swallow hard. Miss Adeline, I say slowly. We made a cake, but it didn't turn out right. Then we needed more sugar to make another one, but I didn't get the sugar back to Mama in time because I was hooping. I was trying to be Jamar so I could be the hula hooping queen of 139th Street. It's my fault there isn't any cake. No cake, says Miss Adeline, raising her eyebrows. I look over at Jamar. She's spinning one of Mr. John's donuts round and round on her finger like it's a hula hoop. Suddenly, that gives me an idea. I'll be right back, I yell as I race from the room. In the kitchen, I set a chocolate donut on a pretty plate. I add whipped cream and strawberries. Mama comes in to help. I put a candle on top and she lights it. As I carry the donut cake to Miss Adeline, Mama starts singing, and everyone joins in. The candle glows as bright as the smile on Miss Adeline's face. Why, this is just about perfect, Miss Adeline says, taking a bite of her donut birthday cake. Now, Kamika, did you say you were hooping? Well, when I was a girl, I was the best hula hooper on this block. Adeline, don't you start that nonsense, Miss Evelyn says, as she marches on over to us. You know very well I was the best. Miss Adeline looks at me. Baby girl, why don't you bring some hoops on in here and let me show this old girl what she forgot. My eyes find Mama's. She shakes her head, but Miss Adeline's already pushing back chairs to make room. Then she slips a hoop over her head, and right then I know. Miss Adeline's just like me. She's got the itch, the hula hooping itch. Her fingers start snapping and her feet start tapping. Her hips start swinging, and before we know it, that hoop is swishing right around Miss Adeline's waist, and then she's got it swinging around her neck. I glance over at Mama, and I see a smile pulling at her lips in spite of herself. Miss Adeline shimmies the hoop down past her knees. She spins it around her ankle as she hops on one foot, then the other, with the hoop still swish, swish, rounding around. Miss Adeline heads for the door. Miss Evelyn grabs one of my hoops, and Mr. John grabs another. Even Mama's hips are swinging as the whole party spills out onto the street. Everybody's got the itch, the hula hooping itch. Pretty soon, hoops are swishing and swinging all the way down the block. Kamika, this is the best birthday party I have ever had. Miss Adeline hollers. Jamar hoops on over to me. Kamika, she says. I know who the real hula hooping queen of 139th Street is. I do too, I say. Jamar settles her hoop around her waist. You ready, Kamika? I was born ready, I say. The sidewalk is cooler than the spring rain, and the streetlights shine like stars. Swish, swiggle, swish. The end. Well, the reason I wanted to read this story to you all is because I love hula hoops so much, and it was one of my favorite things to play with when I was a girl. And even now, as a full, fully, full-grown adult, I have my own hula hoop. I have actually several hula hoops, and I have an emoji that is an avatar of myself with a hula hoop. And whenever anything fun or special or really fantastic happens in my life, I go out and I get my hula hoops and I swish, swiggle, swish. Thanks for watching Storyline Online.