Keep On Wheeling

I

Some people run marathons or ride their bike, but me? I can't even stand up. Want to go to the store? Want to go to the movies? Want to go anywhere? Not alone. I can't even drive.

Everyday starts the same. Wake up, get in the wheelchair, get ready, go to school, come home, do homework, etcetera. That's my life. No different from any other normal teenager. Just ignore the fact that I'm in a wheelchair. I'm no more special from the person next to me. Right?

"Danke! We gotta leave! You have class and I have to get to work. If I show up late one more time It'll be my early retirement opportunity..." 

Not the first time I've heard that one before. It's my fault my older brother, Steve, is usually late for his job.

"Yeah, I know. I'll be there in a minute." 

I placed my pale hands to the wheels on either side of my wheelchair. Arm muscles, Danke. Like they say, just keep pushing.

When I reached the asphalt outside, I noticed how cold it was today here in Portland, but I ignored it and scurried over to Steve's blue minivan.

Steve reached down and lift me from my wheelchair and clicked the door handle to slide open. Carefully, he set me down on the passenger seat.

You're probably wondering why my brother is carrying me into a car, and why I have a wheelchair. I was born with Paraplegia, meaning my legs are paralyzed.

"Hey, are we gonna pick up Jared and Lachlan?" I ask Steve while he settles into the driver's seat.

Steve sits for a moment, pondering. "Not Jared. I remember him telling me he had one of those college tours today."

"Right." Jared Yung has been my best friend since kindergarten. How didn't I know that? "And Lachlan?"

"Failed his Driver's Ed test. Again," Steve rolls his eyes, "and he's seventeen!"

Lachlan Scott. My other best friend. He moved here from Scotland a few years back. Him, Jared, and I have been inseparable since.

"I'm eighteen and I can't drive either." I groan.

"That's different."

Steve put the keys into the ignition and started up the engine. I rest my head on the window to my right and glare outside. Don't let it get you down, Danke. You're stronger than that, I thought.

No more than five minutes later, we hauled up to the curb beside Lachlan's house. He was waiting outside by our van when we stopped. Today his short blonde hair was the same as always, slicked forward and voluminous. He is wearing a white shirt with red and blue stripes on the long sleeves, gray sweatpants, black converse shoes. The classic Lachlan look.

Lachlan slided the door open. He sat in the seat behind mine. Steve started moving the van again with Lachlan's door still ajar.

"Hey, fam!" Lachlan beams.

"What's got you so gleeful?" I question him.

"I have my driver's test after school, and I'm gonna pass it this time! I can feel it!"

"If you say so," I mumble. He already failed four times. I'm surprised they're still letting him re-test.

Without any more words, we were on our way to school. It's about a ten minute drive from here. I might as well do something while I wait...how about some homework.

A few minutes passed and suddenly I whipped forward, almost hitting the center console. I looked over at Steve who seemed winded. I turned back and Lachlan has a grim look on his face.

I ask, "What. Just. Happened?"

"Alecto," Steve hisses. "That girl is insane."

While Steve talked, I knew what had happened. Alecto Adderson, my bully, also the most popular girl in high school, sped by us in her red Mercedes. Most likely with her slave, Kenny Harty, too. She follows Alecto everywhere.

I let out a long sigh. Why does she have to torture me all the time? What did I ever do to her?