their basketball practice had run over.
Sometimes their coach made them run punishment laps or made the whole team keep going through a play until they got it right.
That would explain the lack of a message from David.
My stomach grumbled for dinner.
Usually, we’d be home by now and sitting down to eat. They were never more than a couple of minutes late.
What was going on?
I walked back toward the gym. Ever since basketball had started, the cheerleaders had been practicing across the street at the middle school’s gym.
Usually, after I walked back here, the guys were already waiting for me.
As I approached the gym, I found David and Aaron. They were exiting the gym, and right away, I could tell something was wrong.
David wasn’t walking on his own.
Instead, Aaron and some other guy from the basketball team supported David between them.
My brother hobbled with each step, his face making it clear that he was in pain.
And if David was in pain, it had to be bad. He had to be the toughest person I knew.
“What happened?” I asked, going up to them. They stopped.
David grimaced. “It’s my ankle. I landed on it all wrong, and my weight went on it.”
I took a closer look at his bare foot. It looked about twice its normal size. “It’s pretty swollen.” I glanced up at him. “Do you think it’s broken?”
Just the question had him looking pretty bummed out. “I really hope not. But I definitely need to get it checked out.”
Aaron spoke up, sounding just as concerned. “It’s not your average sprain, that’s for sure.”
I got out of their way, and they got David all the way to his car. I opened the front passenger door for him, letting the seat all the way back.
Aaron and David thanked their friend. “Let me know how it goes, man.” he told my brother with a frown. “Hopefully, it’s nothing serious, and you’ll be back on the court in no time.” Then he left with a wave.
David dug into his gym bag and handed me his keys. “Looks like you get to drive, sis.” His voice came out husky, like he was in physical pain but also not happy about what this meant for him.
I took his keys, feeling bad for how upset he was. This was his senior season of basketball, and he’d gotten an injury in the middle of it.
After closing his door, I walked around to the driver’s side.
We rode home in silence.
When we got to the house, Aaron and I helped David out and to the kitchen, where Mom promptly freaked out in Spanish. She ran to the freezer and grabbed a large bag of ice but not before covering David’s ankle in salt.
“Mom, I need to go to the doctor,” he told her. “Salt’s not gonna do it this time.”
She knelt down and studied his leg. Then in Spanish, she said, “First things first. The salt will help with the swelling. I know what I’m talking about,” she replied firmly.
Several minutes later, his ankle didn’t look much better. I wasn’t sure who looked more nervous about it, Mom, David, or Aaron.
Then Dad came home. He took one look at it and shook his head. “Your coach called and told me what happened,” he said with a sigh. He turned to Mom. “I left the car on. We can take him to the ER.”
Mom and Dad left with David, and Aaron went home.
My little brothers came in. They were in elementary school, and like David and me, about a year apart. “We’re hungry,” Tito demanded. If they weren’t busy jumping from couch to couch, then they probably were in need of food.
I grabbed a couple of plates. “Okay, okay,” I said, heading to the stove, where Mom had left dinner ready.
While we ate, Mom texted me, asking me to help clean the kitchen and remind my brothers to take their bath and do their homework.
I desperately wanted a shower myself, but instead I began loading the dishwasher. Then I shouted up the stairs at my younger brothers with Mom’s message.
Finally, after I’d showered and done my homework, Mom and Dad came home with David in a big black boot. Dad and David sat at the table.
“So what’d they say?” I asked, emptying the dishwasher. My freshly washed hair made the back of my t-shirt wet. “It’s not broken, is it?”
David’s face gave away the bad news before anyone could respond.
“It’s not broken,” Mom replied. “But he won’t be playing for a while.”
She