Half and Half (9 page)

R
on's kung fu group was performing at eleven on Saturday, and he wanted to be there early to warm up. The rest of the family planned to wait until it was time for Ron's appearance before they went to the festival. But Amanda and I decided to go with Ron so we could take in some other shows first.

At first we just walked around, staring at the rows of stands that sold everything from scary African masks to
silver bracelets from Mexico. On the lawn, a crowd gathered around a man wearing only a loincloth, lying on a bed of nails. It made me wince just to see him, but when he got up, there wasn't a mark on his back! Another crowd gathered around a little boy playing a violin. He was only about five years old, and he produced a scared, squeaky sound. Maybe that got him sympathy, because a lot of people threw money into his violin case.

On an open-air stage was a bunch of musicians from Peru. They wore pointed caps with earflaps and woolen ponchos woven in bright colors. They played all sorts of weird instruments. I was especially fascinated by something that looked like a bundle of small pipes tied together. It sounded strange but I liked it.

Of course we had to go listen to the Celtic storytelling. Amanda was disappointed when she found out the storyteller with the harp wasn't coming. Instead, a young girl sang sad songs in a high, sweet voice.

“What do you want to go see next?” I asked Amanda after we left the auditorium.

“Let's go to the taiko drum exhibit,” she said. “My folks expect me to take in at least one Japanese show.”

“Gotta do what our folks expect,” I said, and we headed for the open-air amphitheater, where the drummers were scheduled to perform.

“It's true, about doing what people expect you to do,” said Amanda after we got ourselves settled on the lawn. “For instance, your mom is saving every penny because her people are Scotch and they're supposed to be thrifty. When nobody's looking, she's probably throwing money away.”

The idea of Mom throwing money away made me laugh so hard that I fell back on the grass. People around us stared. “No, that's just Mom being a thrifty mathematician!”

“Okay,” said Amanda, “so she's still doing what people expect. Since mathematicians are supposed to be thrifty, she has to save every penny.”

“Just because some Scots and some mathematicians are thrifty,” I said, “you can't expect all of them to be the same.”

“Yeah,” Amanda said, “like Japanese housewives are supposed to be meek and follow three steps behind their husbands when they go out.”

I stared. “Does your mom really do that?”

Amanda laughed. “Of course not! But once, when Dad started barking out orders at her, Mom bowed deeply, sucked in her breath, and said, ‘Hai, hai!' Dad burst out laughing and stopped being so bossy.”

I thought about Nainai expecting me to be a dainty little Chinese maiden, and Grandpa expecting Ron to be a typical redheaded Highland laddie. “What about people who are half and half?” I asked Amanda. “Do half of our folks expect us to behave one way, while the other half expect us to behave the other way?”

Amanda grinned. “I bet they expect you to behave one way half the time, and another way the other half of the time!”

The drummers appeared and we stopped talking. Even without knowing much about taiko, I could tell that these drummers were good. Rhythm is always what I find most exciting. Maybe that's why I like dancing so much.

There was a murmur from the crowd when the biggest drum was wheeled onstage. It was more than three feet across, and it rested on its side. According to our program, the big drum was the climax of the show, and it
was scheduled to be the last piece in the program. “You mean we're already at the end of the show?” I asked, disappointed.

A man sitting in front of me turned around. “No, they're changing the order of the program and playing the big drum now. I heard that the drummer is from out of town and has to leave early to catch a plane.”

The solo drummer walked onstage, stripped to the waist. He stood in front of the drum and began to whack at it with a pair of clubs almost as thick as rolling pins. He started with a few slow taps, then gradually built up the tempo and increased the force of his pounding. Swaying with the beat of the drum, I could feel the same drive that I felt during the Scottish dancing.

I also got a thrill from seeing the way the drummer's muscles rippled. Hey, maybe I could join a taiko group someday!

As the drummer came to the climax of his piece, his sticks whirled so furiously that all I could see was a blur. We gave him a big hand as he left the stage. The other players came back onstage to play on the smaller drums, but they were less exciting than the performer on the big drum.

Amanda poked me. “Say, isn't it almost time for Ron's kung fu exhibition?”

I jumped up. “Yikes! What time is it?”

Amanda didn't have a watch, either, so we asked a woman next to us for the time. “It's ten to eleven,” she said.

We ran for the exhibition hall. When we got there, Mom was standing by the door looking for us. “What took you so long?” she asked.

We rushed inside and made it to our seats just as Ron's group came out. They bowed to the audience. Then the announcer called out the names of the contestants for the junior group. Ron and his opponent were next to the last pair, which meant Ron was in one of the top levels.

I looked at the boy who was Ron's opponent. He was so much taller and bigger that I got worried. Nainai had said that in kung fu size wasn't important. Still, it was a bit scary the way Ron's opponent loomed over him.

“I sure hope Ron gets his growth spurt soon,” I muttered.

“Height isn't everything!” said Amanda. She always defends Ron. “Hideyoshi was one of the greatest generals
in Japanese history, and he was a skinny little runt. And don't forget Napoleon. He wasn't much more than five feet!”

“You'd better not let Ron hear you say ‘skinny little runt,'” I said. “And I don't think he likes to be compared to Napoleon, either.”

On my other side, Dad gave me a poke and told me to keep quiet and not distract the contestants.

The bouts began. Each pair of combatants bowed politely to each other before they squared up to fight. I had seen kung fu before, so the moves weren't new to me. I was familiar with the punches, the high kicks, some delivered with the fighter turning his back. Of course in an exhibition fight, the blows and the kicks are not allowed to land and actually hurt anyone. This wasn't a bloodthirsty boxing match.

None of the bouts lasted very long. We all applauded at the end of each match as the referee announced the winner. At times I couldn't tell who the winner was until it was announced, since you never saw a loser lying stretched out on the ground.

My anxiety grew as the time for Ron's fight approached.
When the two boys came out and bowed, I saw again the big difference in size between Ron and his opponent, who had a reach almost six inches longer.

But when the bout began, Ron didn't have trouble with his opponent's longer reach. He managed to get inside the bigger boy's guard and “land” a few good punches. I stifled a scream as the other boy aimed a kick at Ron's head. Ron dodged it with a spectacular backward flip, and that ended the bout. The crowd cheered as the announcer declared Ron the winner.

Amanda and I grinned at each other with relief. Grandpa MacMurray took out a grubby handkerchief and wiped his brow.

I hardly noticed what happened in the last bout, and only knew it was over when I heard the applause. After the kung fu exhibition, we all went to the side entrance to meet the team members as they came out.

Mom was the first to spot Ron, and she rushed over to give him a big hug. Grandma MacMurray was next to hug Ron, while Grandpa shook hands formally with him. But there was nothing formal about the big smile on Grandpa's face.

Ron looked around until he saw Dad. “Well done,” Dad said quietly.

Amanda and I were the last to congratulate Ron. At least 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 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!”