Lone Bean by Chudney Ross Page A

the bones in my hand, only they didn’t look like my hand at all. They looked like a spooky skeleton hand.
    â€œLook”—Mom pointed to one of the fingers on the X-ray—“see how it’s broken right there?”
    I got really close and squinted, but it was hard to tell. I believed her, though, because she’s a nurse and also because my finger was killing me.
    â€œThanks, Jason,” Mom said. We headed back down the stairs and into the waiting room. “Sit here, Bean. I’m going to get a splint from the supply room.”
    Mom disappeared down the hall. I thought about Carla and smiled to myself, but then my happy thoughts were interrupted. The man sitting next to me was as big as a bear and coughing like he was about to throw up his insides. Yuck! I covered my face with my sleeve, so I wouldn’t breathe his nasty germs.
    I looked around, and everyone in the waiting room looked s-i-c-k SICK! I could feel the germs like cooties all over my body. I wiggled in my seat and covered my whole head with my sweatshirt, but I couldn’t take it anymore! No open, close, open, close of the door this time. I jumped up and rushed right through the hospital door.
    Right as I stepped outside, an ambulance pulled up. It screeched to a stop and the doors flew open. I rushed to the side to get out of the way of the EMTs. That means ambulance drivers, you know. They worked fast as they pulled a lady lying flat on a board from the ambulance. She was tied down with red straps and had all sorts of tubes sticking out of her.
    I hoped and hoped that she was going to be okay as they swooped past me and disappeared into the hospital. Right then and there, I decided that maybe I want to be an EMT when I grow up, so I can save people when they are in really bad shape.
    â€œOh, my goodness, Bean,” said Mom as she came through the door. “I was looking for you everywhere. I told you to stay put.”
    â€œI know, but there were so many germs and coughing and sick people. I had to leave,” I said.
    I don’t know how Mom deals with all that yucky sickness every day.
    â€œOkay,” Mom said. “Let’s get this splint on your finger and go home.”
    Mom knelt down in front of me and bent the metal splint around my palm. Then she strapped my finger down tight with two white strips of tape. It hurt at first, but then it just felt kinda funny. Usually, my finger moves all around, but now it was stuck pointing straight up.
    â€œLook over there.” I pointed my splinted finger toward the street.
    â€œWhat is it?” Mom asked.
    â€œNothing—it’s just that my finger is always pointing to something now.”
    As we drove back home, we laughed over and over again as I kept pointing at things I didn’t mean to.
    â€œMaybe I’ll have everyone sign my splint,” I said as we pulled into the driveway.
    â€œDon’t you think it’s too small for everyone’s names?”
    â€œYeah, but maybe everyone can put their initials on the tape,” I said. “ C for Carla, then S for Sam and G for Gabrielle.”
    When we got home, my sisters were already back from school.
    â€œWhat happened?” asked Rose as she rushed over and gave me a hug.
    â€œI fell during recess and broke my finger. Look!” I said as I held up my hand.
    â€œDoes it hurt?” Gardenia asked, leaning in to get a better look.
    â€œIt did, but it’s not so bad anymore.”
    â€œI’m glad you are all right,” Dad said as he gave me a good, long I’m-happy-you-are-okay kinda squeeze.
    Mom got started on dinner. Dad, Rose, and Gardenia went into the living room to practice their instruments, and I started my homework at the kitchen table.
    All I had was cursive homework, which usually takes no time at all. This time, when I tried to write with my pencil, my finger just stuck straight out. It was hard to grab the pencil without a pointer finger to