round Kenny’s neck, she pulled Kenny forward on top of her.
“Aaarrrgghh!”
They landed in a sprawled heap, and for a second Kenny just lay there, shaking with laughter.
“Get up,” said Fliss.
“Hold your horses, I’m not that heavy,” said Kenny.
“Get up!” Fliss screamed. “Get up, get up, get up !!!”
Quick as a flash, Kenny scrambled to her feet. “Fliss, are you OK?” she said.
By this time Frankie, Lyndz and I were clustered round her.
“No!” Fliss said, starting to sob. “It’s my ankle. It…” She gasped as she tried to move. “It really hurts.”
Together, the four of us managed to pull Fliss up. Her left leg had twisted at a really odd angle under her as she fell. Now Frankie supported her as she hopped to her bed and then halfsat, half lay on it, propped up on her pillows.
“Does it still hurt?” asked Lyndz.
Fliss nodded, biting her lip. “ So much.”
“We’d better call her mum,” I said to Frankie. But Fliss said, “No – no. It’ll be OK in a minute. I’ll just lie still for a bit.”
“Let’s think,” said Kenny, a determined look on her face. “In football matches, when someone twists their ankle, they put an ice pack on it. D’you have an ice pack, Fliss?”
“I don’t think so,” said Fliss in a small voice. Her ankle obviously hurt – a lot .
“Won’t a bag of frozen peas do?” said Frankie.
“Good thinking!” exclaimed Kenny. “I’ll see if I can get to the freezer without anyone seeing me.”
“The freezer’s in the laundry room,” said Fliss with a sob through gritted teeth. “Last door on the right before the kitchen.”
“OK.” Kenny opened Fliss’s bedroom door a crack and looked both ways along the landing. “Coast clear,” she mouthed, and tiptoed out.
By the time Kenny got back, holding the bagof peas with her sleeves pulled down over her hands, Fliss was sniffing and pointing at her ankle in alarm. “It’s gone all puffy!”
“Here, this’ll stop the swelling,” said Kenny, applying the peas.
Fliss winced at the cold. After a moment she wailed, “But I don’t want a fat ankle!” For the first time since the accident, Kenny laughed.
It’s strange, but sometimes when you’ve had a shock it can make you go giggly afterwards. Soon Kenny was re-enacting what had happened, with lots of exaggerated grimacing, and the rest of us were in hysterics. Even Fliss.
“How does it – hic – feel now?” hiccupped Lyndz.
“Oh, miles better,” said Fliss breezily. She swung her legs off the bed. But the second she tried to stand on her left foot, she fell back again, her face twisted with pain.
“Aaaaaaah!”
“That’s it,” said Frankie. “Fliss. I’m telling your mum right now.”
“OK,” said Fliss in a trembly voice.
It was pandemonium. Fliss’s mum thundered up the stairs and burst into the room like one of those doctors on ER racing into the operating theatre.
“My baby! Are you all right?” she screeched.
“Oh, Mummy!” wailed Fliss, suddenly far more upset than she’d been before.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” said Mrs Sidebotham, taking Fliss’s hand and smoothing her hair back, over and over.
While Fliss went through it all in minute detail, Andy shouted up the stairs, “Is everything OK?” about every three seconds. Not surprisingly, the hubbub woke Callum, who came out on to the landing, trailing his blanket and making small grizzling noises. His grizzling got louder when he realised no one was taking the least bit of notice.
“Are you sure you can’t stand on it?” Fliss’s mum asked her. Fliss tried again, and yelped with pain.
“OK,” said Mrs Sidebotham, “we’ll have to get you to the hospital.”
“Oh, please,” said Kenny, “may I come too? I want to be a doctor, you see—”
“No, Laura, I think it’s best not,” said Fliss’s mum firmly. She already looked totally stressed. Having Kenny for company would probably have pushed her over the
“Aaarrrgghh!”
They landed in a sprawled heap, and for a second Kenny just lay there, shaking with laughter.
“Get up,” said Fliss.
“Hold your horses, I’m not that heavy,” said Kenny.
“Get up!” Fliss screamed. “Get up, get up, get up !!!”
Quick as a flash, Kenny scrambled to her feet. “Fliss, are you OK?” she said.
By this time Frankie, Lyndz and I were clustered round her.
“No!” Fliss said, starting to sob. “It’s my ankle. It…” She gasped as she tried to move. “It really hurts.”
Together, the four of us managed to pull Fliss up. Her left leg had twisted at a really odd angle under her as she fell. Now Frankie supported her as she hopped to her bed and then halfsat, half lay on it, propped up on her pillows.
“Does it still hurt?” asked Lyndz.
Fliss nodded, biting her lip. “ So much.”
“We’d better call her mum,” I said to Frankie. But Fliss said, “No – no. It’ll be OK in a minute. I’ll just lie still for a bit.”
“Let’s think,” said Kenny, a determined look on her face. “In football matches, when someone twists their ankle, they put an ice pack on it. D’you have an ice pack, Fliss?”
“I don’t think so,” said Fliss in a small voice. Her ankle obviously hurt – a lot .
“Won’t a bag of frozen peas do?” said Frankie.
“Good thinking!” exclaimed Kenny. “I’ll see if I can get to the freezer without anyone seeing me.”
“The freezer’s in the laundry room,” said Fliss with a sob through gritted teeth. “Last door on the right before the kitchen.”
“OK.” Kenny opened Fliss’s bedroom door a crack and looked both ways along the landing. “Coast clear,” she mouthed, and tiptoed out.
By the time Kenny got back, holding the bagof peas with her sleeves pulled down over her hands, Fliss was sniffing and pointing at her ankle in alarm. “It’s gone all puffy!”
“Here, this’ll stop the swelling,” said Kenny, applying the peas.
Fliss winced at the cold. After a moment she wailed, “But I don’t want a fat ankle!” For the first time since the accident, Kenny laughed.
It’s strange, but sometimes when you’ve had a shock it can make you go giggly afterwards. Soon Kenny was re-enacting what had happened, with lots of exaggerated grimacing, and the rest of us were in hysterics. Even Fliss.
“How does it – hic – feel now?” hiccupped Lyndz.
“Oh, miles better,” said Fliss breezily. She swung her legs off the bed. But the second she tried to stand on her left foot, she fell back again, her face twisted with pain.
“Aaaaaaah!”
“That’s it,” said Frankie. “Fliss. I’m telling your mum right now.”
“OK,” said Fliss in a trembly voice.
It was pandemonium. Fliss’s mum thundered up the stairs and burst into the room like one of those doctors on ER racing into the operating theatre.
“My baby! Are you all right?” she screeched.
“Oh, Mummy!” wailed Fliss, suddenly far more upset than she’d been before.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” said Mrs Sidebotham, taking Fliss’s hand and smoothing her hair back, over and over.
While Fliss went through it all in minute detail, Andy shouted up the stairs, “Is everything OK?” about every three seconds. Not surprisingly, the hubbub woke Callum, who came out on to the landing, trailing his blanket and making small grizzling noises. His grizzling got louder when he realised no one was taking the least bit of notice.
“Are you sure you can’t stand on it?” Fliss’s mum asked her. Fliss tried again, and yelped with pain.
“OK,” said Mrs Sidebotham, “we’ll have to get you to the hospital.”
“Oh, please,” said Kenny, “may I come too? I want to be a doctor, you see—”
“No, Laura, I think it’s best not,” said Fliss’s mum firmly. She already looked totally stressed. Having Kenny for company would probably have pushed her over the
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