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 it?”
“It's not too bad, Mr. Tanaka,” I told him. “He only strained his ankle. Nothing's broken.”
“Amanda will be glad to hear it.” He winked at me. “Better go in and tell her the good news.”
Inside the house I ran into Melissa. She still had black hair. “Sorry about your hair,” she muttered, not meeting my eyes.
I wondered if she had changed her mind about dyeing her own hair after she had seen what happened to mine.
I found Amanda and her mother in the kitchen, and I told them about Ron's ankle being strained, not sprained.
“Make sure he doesn't put much weight on it for a few days,” Mrs. Tanaka said. She's a nurse, so she knew what she was talking about.
“I'll tell him that,” I said. “He's supposed to take part in some Scottish dancing tomorrow, but I'm not sure he'll be able to make it.”
“Dancing!” cried Mrs. Tanaka. “What sort of dancing? If it's a slow shuffle, he might be able to do a few steps, but even that is taking a chance.”
“They're Scottish dances,” I told her. “Some of the Highland reels involve a lot of hopping and jumping, I'm afraid.”
“Don't even think of letting him do it!” said Mrs. Tanaka. “He could tear a ligament! It may never be normal again!”
She made it sound really scary. “I'd better go home right away and tell Ron what your mom said,” I told Amanda. “Otherwise he might have a bum ankle for the rest of his life.”
“That's awful!” cried Amanda. “Wait, I'll come with you.”
When we got home, the first person we saw was Dad. “Oh, hi, Mr. Cheng,” said Amanda. “I came over to see how Ron is. Is his ankle better?”
Dad sighed. “No, it's about the same. We were just discussing what we should do.”
The whole family was in the living room. Grandpa and Grandma were together on the sofa, while Nainai and Ron each had an armchair. Ron had his right leg on a footstool, but I could tell he wasn't happy about it. Dad and Mom had seats on two dining room chairs. Amanda and I plopped ourselves down on the floor.
“You can't join the rehearsal tonight, and that's final!” Mom told Ron.
Ron scowled. “I haven't been dancing as long as the others, and I need the extra practice!”
Amanda cleared her throat. “My mom is a nurse, and she said Ron shouldn't put any strain on his bad ankle for a few days!”
Grandpa sighed. “That means our laddie can't use the ankle tomorrow.”
“I can stand it!” insisted Ron. “The pain is much better already!”
“You mustn't take a chance,” said Grandma. “Do you think your grandpa and I would want you to dance under the circumstances?”
“I promised to join the dance, and I intend to keep my promise!” Ron said with clenched teeth.
“My mom said if you're not careful, the injury could be permanent, Ron,” warned Amanda. “You might never be able to do kung fu again!”
“Let me take your place tonight, at least,” I said to Ron, offering a compromise. “Tomorrow we'll see how your ankle is. If it's better, you can join the troupe again.”
“What Fiona says makes sense, Ron,” Dad said quietly.
“Good suggestion, Fiona,” said Mom, and there were nods of agreement from the others.
So it was decided that I would take Ron's place that night during the rehearsal. What we'd do the next day was still up in the air.
As Amanda got ready to leave, she still looked troubled. “You know, don't you, that Ron shouldn't even think of trying to dance tomorrow?”
“I know,” I admitted. “But at least I stopped him from joining in tonight.”
I went upstairs and put on Ron's kilt. As I adjusted the belt around my waist, I wondered if this would be the last time I got to wear the outfit.
The dancers arrived right on time. This was the dress rehearsal, the last practice session before the performance.
When Maggie saw me, her eyes widened. “So you are dancing after all?”
“I'm just substituting for Ron,” I said. “He's hurt his ankle, and it's too sore for him to dance tonight.”
Before I could say more, Grandpa tuned his fiddle and told us to get into position. Once the dancing started, I forgot all our worries. It felt wonderful to get into the swing again.
During our first break, Grandpa smiled around at us. “This was one of our best sessions yet. Let's hope we can do as well tomorrow.”
“Hey, we might even be better than the senior group!” cried one of the boys.
“Right!” cried Maggie. “Let's show them!”
Grandpa started the music again, and we went into one of the slower Strathspey numbers. It was my favorite. The more sprightly reels were lots of fun, but I liked the slow, graceful dances better.
I was so carried away by the dancing that it came as a surprise when I realized we were about to finish our last number. At the end, our audience clapped as we lined up and bowed. I saw that Dad and Mom were beaming at us, along with Grandma MacMurray.
Ron was sitting in his armchair with his foot propped up. He was clapping just as hard as the others. I looked for Nainai to see how she felt. She was seated behind Ron, and she was also clapping and smiling.
Just before Maggie left, she turned and looked at me thoughtfully. “You're really good. You're much better than your brother.”
I was so moved that I couldn't speak. Maggie smiled at me and gave my arm a squeeze. “You know, I kind of wish you'd be the one dancing tomorrow.”
I found my voice. “I wish things were as simple as that.”
After the other dancers had left, Grandpa began to put away his fiddle and Grandma went up to him. “Fiona is a better dancer than Ron, isn't she? He did all the right things, but when he danced, he was just doing his duty. When Fiona danced, she was doing something she loved.”
She kept her voice low, but I could hear her clearly. Nainai had also overheard. As she an
d I went upstairs to my room, she turned to me and said softly, “You should be the one to perform with the troupe, not Ron.”
Her voice was not quite steady, and I could tell that it cost her a great deal to say that. If I didn't appear at Dad's talk, what would happen to that beautiful jacket she had worked so hard to embroider, and those silk trousers she'd had to lengthen?
I shook my head. “No, Nainai. Ron is better for the dance troupe. He's got the right color hair, and he's the one Grandpa really wanted in the first place.”
Nainai's sad face haunted me all night, and I didn't sleep very well. When I opened my eyes Sunday morning, I saw that Nainai's bed was already empty. I found my parents in the kitchen getting breakfast ready. The sight of their faces told me that they hadn't slept well, either.
Dad was even quieter than usual. Mom looked absentminded as she took out the pancake mix for our usual Sunday morning breakfast. Even using a mix, she succeeded in messing up the recipe. She added twice as much milk as needed, and since she didn't leave much of the dry mix, the batter ended up watery.
“I'll do the sausages!” Dad said quickly, and grabbed the frying pan away from Mom.
The pancakes were as thin as paper and practically transparent. So I wrapped them around my sausages and made a package that turned out to be delicious.
Grandpa and Grandma had already eaten, since they always get up an hour before anyone else. I saw Grandma lean over to speak to Grandpa. “Did you find that boy who might be able to dance with us, Alec?”
Grandpa shook his head gloomily. “No, his mother said he refused to do it. There isn't enough time for him to practice, and he's too scared to go onstage at this late date.”
“We'll just have to hope that Ron will be recovered, then,” said Grandma. But she didn't look hopeful.
Finally Ron came down to breakfast in his pajamas, and we all turned to stare at him. His face was drawn, and I could tell that he had spent an awful night.
“Want some breakfast, Ron?” Mom asked.
“Okay,” he said, looking unenthusiastically at the stack of paper-thin pancakes. He limped over to a chair and sat down. His limp was not any better—maybe even worse. There was no hope at all that he would be able to dance.
After breakfast, we held a family conference in the living room. I tried hard to come up with an idea to solve our problem, but I just couldn't see any way out.
Nainai spoke first. “Our decision is obvious. My son can still give his talk without Fiona's appearance. But the dance troupe simply cannot perform with one dancer missing. Fiona must join the troupe.”
“But your beautiful costume!” cried Grandma. “All that work you put into it!”
“I'll just have to fold it up and put it back in my suitcase,” Nainai said. She wasn't able to keep the bitter disappointment from her voice.
While we were cleaning up, I got a chance to speak with Mom and Dad alone.
“I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings,” I told them. “I don't know what to do.”
“Just be true to yourself, Fiona,” said Mom.
“Do what feels right to you,” added Dad.
Amanda came over after lunch. “How is Ron? Is he going to be able to dance?”
“I'm afraid not,” I told her. “We've decided that I should join the dance troupe, and Dad will just have to give his talk without my appearance.”
“Too bad,” said Amanda. “What will happen to that gorgeous Chinese costume?”
I sighed. “It'll just go back into Nainai's suitcase, I suppose.”
“Can't you think of something?” asked Amanda. “You're always coming up with those brilliant ideas!”
But my mind was still empty as we all got ready to leave for the festival.
Sunday was the last day of the festival and the most crowded, so we had to go early to find parking.
We got there with almost an hour to spare. Normally I'd have no problem enjoying myself at the festival for an hour, or several hours. But this time it was different. This time I was a performer myself, and I wasn't in the mood to take in other shows.
Nobody else in our family felt much like watching other shows, either, so we all wound up sitting glumly around a table in the food court, picking at food that we didn't need.
Dad had the notes for his talk in front of him. He had already prepared his talk, but now he was working on it again, adding things to make it longer. Since I wasn't going to appear onstage, he had to think of ways to fill in the extra time.
Mom was talking quietly with Nainai, trying to cheer her up. Grandpa and Grandma didn't have to worry about the dancing anymore, but they didn't look all that cheerful, either. Maybe they felt guilty because I was going to be on their program instead of Dad's.
I wasn't hungry and just pulled at a piece of beignet, a kind of New Orleans fried bread. “Careful with that powdered sugar,” said Mom as a cloud of white powder rose. “You'll get it on your costume.”
I was already wearing the full dancing outfit: Balmoral cap, knee-high stockings, kilt, sporran, and blouse. Some of the passersby stared at me, but there were so many other people in costume that I didn't feel too conspicuous.
The day was warm, and my outfit already felt a little hot. I was going to be a lot hotter when I started dancing. I envied the drummer at the previous day's taiko performance, who had stripped to the waist. I giggled as I thought about how Grandpa's troupe would look if we all went topless.
Then—when it was almost too late—I finally got hit by a brilliant idea.
“Dad,” I said, “you're the next to last speaker at the session, aren't you?”
Dad's eyes widened. “Yes, that's what it says in the printed program.”
“Do you think you can change places with the person who's scheduled to go first?” I said in a rush.
“Like the taiko drummer!” cried Amanda.
I was practically jumping up and down with excitement. “Our junior dance troupe doesn't go onstage until the second half of the program. So if you speak first, I can appear for your talk and still have time to run over and join the Scottish dancers!”
“Good thinking, Fiona!” cried Grandpa. Grandma smiled and nodded agreement.
Mom and Ron were both beaming, too. I felt pretty proud of myself.
A wail came from Nainai. “But you won't be able to wear the costume! I left it at home in my suitcase!”
Mom looked at her watch. “There's still more than half an hour before the program begins. I have time to drive home and get the costume.”
She would be cutting it close. We live in the central part of the city, not far from the university. Mom could make it back in time—if the traffic wasn't too bad.
“Fiona's idea is at least worth a try,” said Dad.
So Mom hurried off to the car. The rest of us split up. Ron limped off with Grandpa and Grandma MacMurray to show them the way to Center House, where the Scottish dancing was being staged. Nainai, Dad, Amanda, and I headed for the Rainier Room, where the children's literature session was being held.
Dad spotted the writer who was scheduled to speak first on the program. He went over to her and began to explain the situation.
The writer had pink hair that looked like candy floss being pulled by several greedy hands. Fortunately, she was not as wild as her hair, and she soon understood what Dad wanted her to do. “Okay, Frank, I'll be happy to let you go first. Besides, it gives me a little longer to prepare a talk.”
“How can she be calmly standing there without a prepared talk, when there are more than a hundred people listening?” I whispered to Amanda. “Dad takes days to prepare his talks.”
“I guess writers come in all sorts,” said Amanda.
We still had fifteen minutes before the program began, and the hall was filling up. Dad took out his notes again and began to read them over. Now that I might appear on-stage, he'd have to go back to his original talk, the shorter version. He took out his pencil and started crossing out the extra things he
had added.
We had seven more minutes. “Maybe you should have asked your dad to trade places with the second speaker instead of the first,” whispered Amanda.
I shook my head. “But then I might not have enough time to change back into my Scottish outfit and make it to the dance troupe.”
As it got closer to the time for the speakers to go on-stage, I fidgeted so much that I was practically dancing a Scottish reel all by myself. “Is Mom going to make it?”
“Maybe she's driving around and around looking for a parking meter with time left on it,” said Amanda.
“No, she isn't!” I protested. “Saving money is a game with her, but she wouldn't pull one of her thrifty tricks when things are desperate.”
With five minutes to go, there was still no sign of Mom or the costume. I started to lose hope.
“Too bad,” sighed Dad. “I guess Mom didn't make it.” Nainai's shoulders drooped.
Dad took out his notes again and began to erase the crosses on the things he had crossed out. Which of the two talks was he going to give? Whichever one he gave, he was still going on first.
Our time was up. Mom still hadn't arrived.
Dad joined the other speakers who were lining up, and they began climbing up to the stage. They sat down on a row of chairs behind a long table.
Nainai, Amanda, and I turned sadly and started to leave the changing room. We'd have to join the audience and find seats.
“Psst, over here!” said a voice. It was Mom!
“You made it!” I cried.
“I got a flat tire and had to flag down a taxi,” explained Mom. “You wouldn't believe how much it cost! But it was worth it.”
So I was right after all. Mom is willing to spend good money when she knows we're counting on her.
Mom held out the costume. “Better hurry up and change!”
I tore off the fancy blouse and kilt and thrust my arms into the sleeves of the silk jacket. In my hurry to put on the pants, I stuffed both feet into the same leg. Amanda helped to pull the pants off, and I started over again. Nainai did the buttons of the jacket for me.
Half and Half Page 7