Easing my way toward the edge of the ring of skaters, I waved at Indira, who was gliding along in her coat and muffler, serene as a swan, and got distracted by Fox, who was doing some remarkably good spins.(I was so distracted, in fact, that I almost got run over by Mr.Cheek, who had dredged up a sequined bodysuit from somewhere, complete with a flowing, translucent train—and, actually, was totally pulling it off.)
Millie’s shouts of “Go, Keme!GO!”made me turn.
Keme had somehow managed to stay ahead of Bobby, and for a boy who tended toward the stone-faced-killer school of self-expression, he looked surprisingly…well, boyish.His features were relaxed, his mouth open in a wide grin.Bobby’s hat still hung from one hand.Bobby, coming after him, looked happy too—but with an edge of so-help-you-God-if-I-catch-up-to-you that was having a real effect on me.Keme looked back, checking the gap between himself and Bobby.
And that was when Millie shouted, “KEME, LOOK OUT!”
Mr.Cheek had gotten tangled in his flowing, translucent train, and he now presented an obstacle in Keme’s path.Keme’s head snapped back around, and he saw the problem immediately.He deked right, the movement smooth and tight and controlled.
It put him on a collision course with me.
I figured it out about a nanosecond before everyone else.
Which is to say, not soon enough.
5
“Just a few more steps,” Bobby said.
I huffed a few choice words at that—words you’re not allowed to say at Christmas—and let him help me into the billiard room.
Behind us trailed a miserable-looking Keme.
He, of course, had come through the debacle unscathed.He’d been back on his feet, skating over to help me, while I was still trying to figure out which way was up.I imagined he’d have some spectacular bruises in the morning—but he was young and healthy, and they’d give him a great chance to solicit Millie’s sympathy.Looking at him now, though, hangdog expression, dark hair falling across his face, eyes turned down, you’d have been hard-pressed to tell.
“There you go,” Bobby said, easing me down onto the chesterfield.He grabbed a cushion and elevated my foot.Then he brushed back my hair.“How are you feeling?”
“I’m dying,” I said.
“Well, you’re not dying.”
“Iam.All my organs got turned to mush.And my bones.I’m ninety percent black bile.”
“No more medical advice from Fox.”
Keme stood by the fireplace, hands buried in his pockets, shifting his weight.
“The only thing that will make me better,” I said, “is if Keme signs over his Xbox account to me and lets me play under his username for the rest of my life.And he can never play Xbox again.Oh, and if hedoesplay, he has to let me beat him.”
But that didn’t get me anything.Not even a flicker of a scowl.If anything, Keme just hunched his shoulders.
“Keme,” I said, “It’s okay.Will you stop beating yourself up about it?It was an accident, and it could have happened to anyone.I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Bobby said with unexpected sternness, and even though he was talking to me, he twisted to direct the words at Keme.“You have a twisted ankle.You’re going to be black and blue with bruises.And what if you’d hit your head?”
Keme didn’t pale easily, but right then, he looked like he might be sick.
I gave Bobby a warning look that he didn’t see.So, I squeezed his hand.And when Bobby finally did glance back at me, I gave himCut it outwith my eyes.
Bobby stared back at me with a not-so-polite version ofNoin his expression.
I doubled-down.
Bobby set his jaw.
“I’m fine,” I said again.Loudly.“Dr.Xu looked me over.She told me I was fine.If I have any lasting injuries, it’ll be because I was forced to walk on my broken ankle.”
“Twisted ankle,” Bobby said.
