Free Half and Half by Lensey Namioka Page B

I did the congratulating. Amanda seemed to have lost her tongue, and simply stared at Ron with shining eyes.
    “Shall we go to the food court and eat lunch?” asked Mom. “Then we can decide which of the afternoon programs we want to watch.”
    “Yeah, let's eat!” I said. I suddenly discovered that I was starving.
    Ron is usually the first one to complain of starvation, but this time he shook his head. “If it's okay with you, I think I'd better go home and soak my ankle. It's a bit swollen.”
    Then I noticed that he was limping. “What happened?” I asked.
    “It was the way I landed on it,” he said. He looked embarrassed. “Actually, I didn't have to do a flip to dodge that kick. I was just showing off.”
    “Yes, we'd better get that ankle fixed by tomorrow afternoon,” said Grandpa.
    We all knew what he meant. You can't do a Scottish dance, especially a Highland reel, with a swollen ankle.
    “We'll take you to the doctor right away,” Mom said to Ron. “We have to make sure nothing's broken.”
    “That's a bad limp you have, Ron,” said Grandpa. “Maybe you chipped a bone there.”
    “Better safe than sorry,” said Grandma. Worry deepened the lines in her face.
    “I'm all right!” cried Ron. “Leave me alone!”
    Dad stepped in. “Your mother's driving Grandpa and Grandma MacMurray, as well as Amanda and Fiona. So her car is a bit crowded. Why don't you come with me and Nainai in my car? We can drop in at the clinic just for a second, okay?”
    Ron calmed down and agreed to go along with Dad's suggestion. Mom asked me if I wanted to stay at the festival and take in other shows. Normally, I would have loved to spend an afternoon without grown-ups. But that day, I didn't feel like enjoying myself at the festival while worrying about Ron. Amanda felt the same. “I'd like to go home, too, Mrs. Cheng,” she said.
    So Mom dropped off Amanda at her house, and I went home with her and Grandpa and Grandma MacMurray. It was very quiet in the car. It stayed very quiet in the house after we got home. Nobody wanted to come right out and ask the question: Was Ron's bad ankle going to stop him from performing in the Scottish dances?
    I helped Mom make lunch—peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for everybody. With Mom as the cook, this was the safest choice. I thought of all the ethnic food at the festival—Vietnamese noodle soup, Russian piroshki, grilled Polish sausages—but my mouth didn't water at the thought. I was too worried to feel hungry.
    I was just setting the table when Dad, Nainai, and Ron came home. I could tell from the looks on their faces that the news was bad.
    “Nothing is broken,” Dad said quickly. “But his ankle is strained, and he has to take it easy.”
    “Ron sprained his ankle?” cried Mom. “Did the doctor put an elastic bandage on to support it?”
    “It's strained, not sprained,” snarled Ron. “There is a difference. I don't have to be treated like some wounded soldier!”
    Nobody ate much for lunch. It's hard to make a bad peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but Mom managed it somehow. Maybe she put in too much peanut butter and not enough jelly, because my mouth was pretty much glued together by the sandwich. I guess everybody else's mouth was glued together, too, because nobody talked.
    We spent most of the meal stealing glances at Ron, who ate less than anyone else. Normally he can put away two or even three sandwiches, especially when they're made with grape jelly, his favorite. But that day he just picked at his food. Finally he threw down the rest of his sandwich. “How do you expect me to eat when you're all staring at me?”
    He got up and tried to stomp upstairs to his room— except that he couldn't stomp. It hurt too much.
    The afternoon passed very slowly. Finally I couldn't stand the gloom anymore and went over to Amanda's house.
    Amanda's father was mowing their front lawn. “Hi, Fiona. Heard your brother had an accident and hurt his leg. How bad is