Half and Half Read Free Page B

if the food was all right. And all the time he was the groom!”
    “That must have made you mad,” I said. Poor Mom! I was surprised she could laugh about it now.
    And she was laughing, too. “Fortunately I had other things to think about,” she continued. “Later, much later, I did ask your father why he went into the little boy actwhenever he saw his parents, especially his mother. He was astounded, because he never realized that he did it. Finally he said that it was probably just filial duty.” She looked at me. “Do you know what that is?”
    I shook my head.
    “Filial duty means children paying a debt to their parents for bringing them up.”
    “So filial duty is important to the Chinese?” I asked.
    Mom nodded. “It's considered one of the most important virtues, if not the most important. Your dad told me a famous Chinese story about a man whose parents were growing old and feeble. To make them feel better, he began to drool and crawl on the ground and babble like a baby. He wanted them to feel that they were young parents of a newborn baby.”
    I couldn't believe my ears. “Gosh! Is that really a true story?”
    “Whether it's true or not, this man is always held up in China as an example of an outstanding son,” said Mom.
    If this was how the Chinese thought a good son should behave, maybe they were a lot different from me.
    I didn't look forward to seeing Dad being a good sonwhen Nainai came for this visit. It would be especially embarrassing this time, because Grandpa and Grandma MacMurray were visiting, and they might see the way Dad behaved toward Nainai. They loved a good laugh, and I usually loved laughing with them.
    But not if they were laughing at Dad.

    On Tuesday, three days before the start of the Folk Fest, Grandpa and Grandma MacMurray arrived.
    Ron and I heard a car pull up outside soon after we got home from school. We heard Grandpa's booming laugh, and by the time we got to the front door, Grandpa and Grandma were coming up the steps with their suitcases. They were not people who stood around wasting time.
    Grandpa gave Ron a crushing hug and pounded him on the back. “Well, look here!” he cried. “If it isn't Fu Manchu himself!”
    Fu Manchu was a Chinese villain in some old books popular in the 1930s, and even now he is still held up as anexample of the sinister Oriental. But Ron only laughed. It was an old joke between him and Grandpa. Since Ron has reddish hair and Mom's freckles, he doesn't look anything like Fu Manchu, with his long mustache, sallow skin, and slanted eyes.
    Grandma ran up to give me a hug. “Hello, Fiona, lass. My, you've grown another three inches since we last sawyou.”
    Since she had seen me only a month ago, I knew this wasn't true. Grandma loves to exaggerate, and if she had said I'd grown only two inches, I would have been insulted.
    Ron and I helped carry our grandparents' luggage up to the guest room. Naturally we stuck around while they unpacked. I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't expecting them to bring gifts. From Grandpa's suitcase came a pleated woolen skirt in the MacMurray tartan, which I had learned to recognize.
    “Wow!” I cried, snatching the skirt and holding it up to my waist. It was just the right length for me.
    “It's not for you, Fiona!” said Grandpa. “Don't you know that kilts are for laddies?”
    He held the kilt out to Ron, who turned pink as he accepted the gift and mumbled his thanks.
    Next, Grandpa took out a leather purse and a cap. Again, I started to reach out, but they turned out to be for Ron, too. “This purse is called a sporran,” Grandpa told him, “and you hang it from your waist so it dangles in front. The cap is called a Balmoral.”
    Ron's embarrassment almost made up for my disappointment.
    “Hey, Ron,” I cried, “let's see you put the whole outfit on so you can show off to your friends!”
    “I told you the poor lad would be embarrassed, Alec,” Grandma said to Grandpa. “This is America! What