The Birth of Super Crip Read Free Page A

the ball was arranged just as he wanted it.
     
    He stared at the ball for a moment. Suddenly, his mom
called from downstairs for him to help set the table, and he headed
for the stairs.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
    The algebra equations in front of him weren’t holding
his attention very well. Red heard Scott in the hall, and before he
could say anything his brother was pushing the bedroom door
open.
     
    “Hey, tough guy,” Scott said, entering the room
spinning the basketball that he kept on a shelf in his room. “Awful
quiet at dinner tonight.”
     
    “Said the guy who inhales dinner to avoid Dad’s
questions about school,” Red joked.
     
    “Well, I was safe tonight,” Scott said. “I wasn’t the
one smacking people around at school today.”
     
    Red tried not to laugh as he looked past Scott from
his desk to see if either of their parents were in the hallway.
“Would ya shut up and close the door,” he said. Surprised his
brother actually did what he said, he playfully slapped Scott on
the arm. “Dude, what’re you telling Dad I got into a fight
for?”
     
    “Relax,” Scott said. “Like the school wasn’t gonna
call?”
     
    “Did they?”
     
    “I dunno. But, Christ, they call if you sneeze.”
     
    Red rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”
     
    “I heard you ran Chuck Groslin over with your
scooter,” Scott said in a childlike voice, knowing his brother
couldn’t stand it when people patronized him with such ridiculous
statements.
     
    Playing along for a moment, Red tried his own version
of a little kid’s voice, saying, “Yes, ’cause that’s just how
wheelchairs work.” In his regular voice, he added, “And don’t call
it a scooter. It makes it sound like I’m some old man using it to
get around the senior center because I don’t feel like
walking.”
     
    “Dude, get over it,” Scott said. “It looks like a
scooter.”
     
    “Yeah, I know,” Red said. “’cause it has handlebars,
and a bumper, and whatever. I have to hear how cool it would be to
have one from idiots at school all the time. I’m just saying, I use
it as a wheelchair.”
     
    “Anyway,” Scott moaned, tired of the familiar debate.
He took a seat on his brother’s bed. “So, what really
happened?”
     
    “Nothing.”
     
    “Everybody’s saying you decked Chuck.”
     
    “He started his usual crap blocking my way, and said
something about my speech.”
     
    “That always pisses you off,” his brother said.
     
    Red shrugged. “I just got sick of him. So, I actually
did go to push him, but I think he slipped or something.”
     
    Making an exaggerated face showing confusion, Scott
said, “‘Or something?’ How do you not know?”
     
    Red had been asking himself the same question most of
the afternoon. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I felt a
little light-headed after I tried to push him. Almost like I
blacked out for a split second when I went at him. I guess it was
like when people say they stood up too fast.”
     
    This time the thoughtful look on his brother’s face
was genuine. “I doubt it,” Scott said. “You probably didn’t really
stand up. I mean, maybe you came off the seat a little. But when we
mess around or whatever when you’re in your wheelchair, you don’t
really stand up unless you get a hold of me and sort of pull
yourself up.”
     
    Red nodded, having thought the same thing.
     
    “Maybe it was something from those injections you
got,” Scott said.
     
    The thought hadn’t even occurred to Red. “I’ve just
had the one,” he said. A fact he’d been trying to ignore all
afternoon finally punctured his consciousness. He got more than
light-headed when he went for Chuck. He just didn’t know what else
to call the feeling. It was like a force of air had been pushed out
of him. Only it wasn’t air. And it wasn’t pushed out of him. At
least not by something else. He pushed it out.
     
    “Hell-oo. So, when do you go back to the guy?”