Paraplegic (COMPLETED)

Chapter 3

After several more minutes of stop-and-go motions, the traffic has yet to subside. Students, ranging from freshman age to senior status, pour out of the long line of school buses. I glance down at the digital radio clock on the dashboard; class is going to start in less than seven minutes and I still haven't even made it into the parking lot.

Coming from the opposite direction, I see Xander on his motorcycle. He pops a wheelie over the curb and bypasses all of the stationary traffic, skidding across the sidewalk and into the parking lot. The sun glistens off his shiny helmet, while the black visor hides his face from view.

My joy begins to deflate. I'm gonna miss the opportunity to walk into the building with him. And this is the last day of school, too. I'll never get another chance. Ugh! This isn't happening.

He parks his motorcycle next to the curb of the school's entrance, where it is clearly written in white paint: Emergency Vehicles Only – No Parking. Ooh, he's such a bad boy. And he somehow always manages to slither his way out of getting fined.

It takes another four minutes and a lot more honking before I'm able to cruise into a parking spot. I grab my backpack from the back seat and hop out of the car, hoping to catch up with Xander. Fortunately for me, he had taken his sweet time in securing his helmet to his bike, not to mention checking his appearance multiple times in the side mirrors, but I'm still too far away. I watch him pass through the glass doors and into the school.

Ugh! This is so frustrating. If it wasn't for all that traffic, I'd be walking hand in hand with him right now. Stupid traffic. Stupid people. Stupid . . . something!

School buses take turns pulling up to the curb and unloading dozens of students. One bus in particular, pulls up and Stardust High's basketball team, the Shadow Hawks, leap off the bus. They look like an army of crusaders marching into battle, each one wearing their scarlet and gold letter jacket. The Hawks' cheer team—more formally known as the Blue Jays—hop off the bus behind them. A girl with brunette hair fixed in pigtails enthusiastically waves a pair of turquoise pompoms at me.

"Hey, Bestie!" She sprints over to me.

"Hey, Aurora."

She slaps her arms around me in a tight embrace. A small groan is squeezed out of me from feeling my rib cage nearly collapsing inward.

Aurora Ardenaux: co-caption to the cheerleading squad and my best friend since the day she puked on me in kindergarten. It's kind of a long story. Day two of kindergarten: twelve of us kids sat in a group circle with our teacher explaining how the sun gets its energy. Aurora had been timidly playing with a stack of counting cubes and nibbling on her snack when the teacher called on her. I, much to my misfortune, was sitting next to Aurora within the circle. You should have seen the horrified look in her eyes. She was so nervous from having all of the attention focused on her. Her tiny hands trembled as she glanced from one kindergartener's face to the other. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, but words weren't the only thing that came out. Yep! All over my new sundress that mother had bought me the week before. Nothing brings two people together like already been chewed Cheetos.

Aurora excitedly jumps up and down, while clapping her hands together. "Guess what, guess what, guess what?"

"Your parents bought you tickets to a Justin Bieber concert?"

"Eww! No." She unzips her backpack and pulls out an iPhone, which is housed in a sparkly case. "My parent's got me the newest iPhone as a graduation present!" She proudly holds it up in display, like she's showcasing an Emmy Award.

"Oh, that's so cool." I fake my interest.

I guess I can't really blame her for being excited. It's not something I would get excited about; I get a new phone every six months, but I also know the Ardenauxs live hand-to-mouth, so it's a rare event for Aurora to receive something special. I think her dad still stocks shelves at Walmart or something and her mom works as a checkout clerk there, too. It's kind of weird how Aurora and I became friends. We're not really all that much alike, nor do we share the same interests. She's more of a tomboy; Swiss army knives and capture the flag battles is more her thing, whereas I prefer things like nail polish and prom dresses. Honestly, when I asked her to join me for cheerleading tryouts in our sophomore year, I was surprised to hear her agree to it.