MIGHTY WRIGHT
By:
Yolanda Diamond and Ritch Diamond Thomas
Mighty Wright
Published by Yolanda Diamond and Ritch Diamond Thomas at Smashwords
Copyright © 2012 by Yolanda Diamond and Ritch Diamond Thomas
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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Mighty Wright is a work of fiction. Though some actual towns, cities and locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Any similarities of characters or names used within to any person past, present, or future is coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. Brief quotations may be embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Chapter 1
I never knew how my days would start or end anymore since I encountered a life changing experience. I guess I should tell you about what happened, but first, I’m going to see what the three guys calling me over to them want.
They seem lost, maybe in need of help with directions. I should have known better than to enter an alley alone. The three guys with the fake map were up to no good. The one with a black patch covering one eye spoke first, stepping forward.
“What’s in your bag?”
That was a sign for me to turn my wheelchair around and get out of dodge. Just an hour earlier my dad warned me about talking to strangers. It was a crisp morning- perfect day for a basketball game. Here I am in an alley about to get robbed by people I thought I could help.
I looked up. “Books,” I answered. Being robbed wasn’t what I expected. “I like learning,” I said pointing to my head.
“We don’t want any books.”
I noticed the chubby guy talking had a switchblade in his hand. The other two stood there watching with a stick and broken bottle. They were convinced that I wasn’t going to get out of the alley with my gold chain and tennis shoes.
Before I could spin my wheelchair around, the three thugs snatched me up. They held me up to the stinking dumpster and continued to harass and mock me about being handicap. The stench was so bad it made me want to puke.
“Freak,” Patcheye teased, holding the jagged glass near my throat.
“Please... Please don’t kill me,” I begged. I had to think of something quick.
“Begging isn’t going to save you,” said the chubby boy, pulling off my new Nike Infusions.
My life was worth more than the shoes, but these thugs didn’t know whom they were messing with.
“I have one wish before you kill me. Will you write a letter to my mom for me?”
“What?” questioned Patcheye.
Stuttering, I repeated myself. “Write a letter to my mom. Tell her it was me that went in the cookie jar. It was me that left the empty container in the fridge. Tell her it was me that pre...” I said. My feet were dangling in the air.
The thugs looked at me in confusion. “What did you just say?”
The guy holding the stick shook my shoulder. “Say it again, freak.”
“I will pre...” That was all I got out as they scowled and tossed me over into the dumpster.
After kissing my coin, I transformed into Mighty Wright. I leaped from the garbage in my super hero costume ready to kick butt. “Tell her I prevailed”
Dunt, dunt, dunt, dun...
The thugs turned around when I clapped my hands to the sound of the cha-cha.
“Who are you?” Patcheye asked.
With my elbows bent and chest puffed out, I boldly spoke. “Mighty Wright. I’m mighty as can be.” It was time to kick butt, and I went to action.
I flipped forward in double handsprings, drop kicking Skinny with the stick and my tennis shoes. He flew backward, flipping over three times, landing face down.
Chubby charged at me, punching with all his might. I blocked each strike without delay. I danced around him energetically to the lively music pumping in my ears. I caught his last punch with the palm of my hand. I squeezed his knuckles until the bones cracked one by one. Chubby dropped to his knees in pain, begging me to stop.
“Begging isn’t going to save you,” I said, mocking what he’d told me just minutes ago. I tossed him over on top of Skinny.
“Want to tango, huh?” Patcheye broke his silence. “Come on tough guy,” he said as he motioned with a hand gesture.
My fancy footwork brought us face to face. He scowled. I smiled. That was all he got a chance to do, because I knocked him flat on his back with a solid head-butt. His noggin would be aching for days.
I squatted like a frog and leaped into the sky with blazing speed.
Now that I’ve taken care of the bad guys, I can tell you how I came to be a super hero.
Chapter 2
Each night I pray and go to sleep before 9 o’ clock. I don’t sleep hard. I sleep in the middle of the bed for safety purposes, because I am paralyzed from the waist down.
My name is Mark Wright and I’m fifteen years old. Two things happened to me last spring: I was hit by a car while riding my bike; and I began my secret life as a super hero by calling myself Mighty Wright.
The reason I believe the ancient coin I found in the park earlier belonged to King Tut and gives me power to fly, dance and fight crime is because of the ancient symbol inscribed on it. It looks like a peace sign from the 70’s with a gold head turban just above it. I wear it on the link chain around my neck. It was a birthday gift from my parents.
Each day I get up early and climb into my manual operated wheelchair to exercise. I just love being able to push it around with my arms, because I use the “Wheelster”, as I like to call it, to build these guns in my arms. Muscles that is. And I don’t mean to brag or anything, but how else would me being a young Brad Pitt look-alike with spiky black hair fight crime without being buff? Like kung fu fighting and fast as lightning.
The Wheelster had once been used at the Rehabilitation hospital for wounded soldiers, and I appreciate the soldier that asked me to take it. He was in his early forties with a receding hairline. Colonel Smart served in Afghanistan for the United States Army, and he’d helped save lives from the 9/11 terrorist attack in New York.
There was something to be said about a soldier. He even told me the story of how he lost both his legs when a roadside bomb hit his squad’s humvee. To protect his young soldiers, he tried to hurl two grenades from the vehicle. The deafening explosion left him suffering in a pile of rubble on a dirt road where terrorists wreaked havoc. It was a place of turmoil, and to witness it was devastating.
Bodies, severed limbs and vehicle parts were strewn about the area. Bloodied soldiers lay screaming and withering in pain as dark clouds of smoke bellowed up into the air. He told me that his legs were found 20 feet apart.
Colonel Smart had also given me his MP3 player to keep me inspired and energetic. And boy did it send pulsating waves through my body. I always have the hottest tunes to jam to; especially when I’m fighting off the bad guys. I go from casual wear or my navy blue and white school uniform to my meticulous super hero costume that’s bright white spandex with a Satan red cape hood, and matching glitzy mask that covers half of my athletic face. I um... think the girls will like it. Yes...I believe they will like it a lot.
The final touches of my spectacular costume are the italicized, glittered letters, M and W that are joined together. It is emblazoned across my chest and the sparkling initials are also on my cape and boots. When I say Mighty Wright is rocking, I’m rocking baby. I’m mighty as can be. My best friend is a girl. Her name is Sasha Love. She’s a fifteen-year-old genius. I like her because she understands me better than anyone. Plus she’s pretty with a peanut butter complexion and long black hair that she keeps pulled into a ponytail.
I have such a big crush on her, but she doesn’t know it...totally clueless. Seeing Sasha is like hearing angelic harps and seeing a bright glow surrounded by pure white clouds. Yes, I’d say heaven. There is one other catch. Sasha doesn’t know that I’m the super hero, Mighty Wright.
My parents, Bobby and Amy have been married for sixteen years. They weren’t too strict on me since I’m the only child. My father is a policeman and my mother is a nurse. They are still very much in love and display it every chance they get. I would love a little sister or brother. However, I don’t see it happening any time soon because my parents are workaholics. There are several things we love to share together. But one in particular is, we take time to laugh. My mom has always said that it is music of the soul.
Chapter 3
The school isn’t far from my house. You can see the squares and glass, surrounded by manicured lawns and several flowers. In the front is a huge parking area for the staff. All Sasha and I know is that we really like going to high school.
The air was warm when we headed off. I rolled while she walked, and we crossed the next street lined with middle class homes, a church and three buildings, ads in all of them: the corner store, the pizza and sub shop, and the music shack. We almost reached the corner store, a bright glimmer in the mist of morning.
After a few more minutes there was the corner store. A wide ramp, where I had to roll up about six times, made of cement and metal rails. The store was open everyday for kids and families in the neighborhood. We reached the door and entered, to the left.
The isles were kind of dim with only a few people on each. We went through a section of chips. We were next to two students who seemed to be having a hard time picking which flavor of chips they wanted. We barely understood our peer’s gentle accent, which was foreign to us.
We went to the next row for a few seconds, checked out the bobble head erasers. At the end of the store, we both looked forward when we heard loud commotion.
“Get down! Everybody get down!” The robber yelled.
We stayed there for another moment, at the end of shelves, scared and listening. I looked back at the exit near the restroom- because of my plan. It was just a wide enough path that slanted off to the right by big boxes, stacked high by crates against the pale walls.
Since everybody was screaming and scrambling, it made it harder for Sasha to hear me, so I repeated myself. “I have to go to the restroom.”
“What? At a time like this?” Sasha side-eyed me. “Are you crazy?” She whispered trying to keep her voice low.
She didn’t understand, and I couldn’t come straight out and tell her. I tried to keep my voice low too. At any rate, the robber could find us ducking in the back.
“No, I’m not crazy.” Just crazy about you was what I really wanted to say, but didn’t. “I just have to go.”
Sasha was nervous. She didn’t want to leave good-byes for anyone. For her, it was always, “See ya later.”
“Now is ‘so’ not a good time,” she said, which was true. “You can’t leave me here by myself.” Her eyes pleaded with me to stay, but the only way to protect her was to leave her there for a moment.
“I know it’s not a good time, but I can’t hold it. I promise it’ll only take one minute.” I tried to explain. I looked into her fearful eyes to reassure her of the truth. “I will never leave you. Just stay down.”
Chapter 4
Sasha got down on her knees and hung close to the filled shelves. I eased the Wheelster around, peeped around the corner, and then made a break. Thank goodness it was only a couple of rolls from the corner, but it was a small space. Fat beads of sweat popped out on my forehead. It was risky.
Once inside the restroom, I locked the door. I didn’t waste any time transforming. I held the ancient coin to my lips, smacked it, and placed the earbuds to the MP3 player in my ears. Funky tunes flowed into my ears and changed my mood, my disguise, and my physical abilities.
I rose from the Wheelster and climbed out through the window. I circled around the building, I ran along quickly, to the right. I stepped through dry patches of grass. I burst through the store door and confronted the robber. The drum roll came.
Dunt, dunt, dunt, dun...
I am Mighty Wright. “I’m mighty as can be.”
A young man around twenty, with stringy hair aimed a gun at the clerk.
“Just hand over the money old lady!” he screamed.
Mrs. Sweetly opened the register as though people robbed her often.
“You, just hand over the gun,” I said boldly to the scruffy robber.
“No...” He paused. “Don’t try to stop me.” The robber swung the gun around and aimed it right at my chest.
I pointed a finger. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late,” he stated wild-eyed.
Adults and children lay all over the worn floor with their arms covering their heads in fear. I wasn’t frightened one bit.
The angry robber pulled the trigger. Kpow, kpow! Both bullets bounced off my initialed, bulletproof chest. One bullet pierced a can of grape soda. The other one boomeranged and grazed the robber’s ear.
He grabbed at his ear, groaning in pain.
“I take care of bad guys like you,” I said, then moved my head from side to side to the music.
The robber insisted on being tough. He pulled the trigger over and over again until the gun was empty. With perfect timing, I caught each one and tossed it. The last bullet was stopped with my perfect straight teeth and winning smile.
I knocked the gun from his hand. A man with glasses grabbed it, and the robber returned with a wild punch, striking my jaw. I stared at the robber without moving my face.
“Oouuchh!” The robber grabbed his aching hand.
I hit a quick spin on my toes like Michael Jackson. My cape swooshed through the air. I poked the robber in both eyes, twirled around backward on my heels, and punched him right in the nose with the back of my fist.
The robber fell to his knees helplessly. I bounced my shoulders to the music loosely. Then I grabbed his left arm, twisted it behind his back, and shoved his shocked face to the ground as he withered in pain. “Now tell everyone you’re sorry.” I pulled his arm.
“Unh-unh,” The robber moaned.
Mrs. Sweetly came from behind the counter with a broom and started hitting him across his butt.
Whack! Bop! Whack!
I twisted his arm tighter and placed my right foot on his back. “Apologize!”
“Okay, okay!” He shook his loose hand in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he squeaked.
“They can’t hear you,” I said pressing on his back. “Louder...tough guy.”
“I AM SORRY!” he yelled.
“That’s more like it.”
Chapter 5
The man holding onto the gun announced that he’d called 911. “ Police are on the way,” he said nervously.
Sirens could be heard arriving.
I looked over to my right and noticed that Sasha had made her way to the front of the store. Our eyes locked. It was a good thing the mask covered my face. What on earth would I do if she ever found out I’m Mighty Wright? I looked at her beautiful face another few seconds as everyone in the store gave me a respectful round of applause.
The drum roll came.
Dunt, dunt, dunt, dun...
“I’m mighty as can be.” I puffed out my chest, then out the door I went. I placed both hands on the handicap rail, flipped my body into a handstand, and up into the sky I went. Composed and unruffled, I flew upside down and backward as the community cheered me on.
Chapter 6
I slipped back in through the window, kissed my coin, removed the earbuds and was instantly turned back to a paraplegic. Back in my school uniform, I was seated in the Wheelster.
I rolled out into the throng of people near Sasha. I glimpsed at her before I said anything.
“What happened to the robber?” I asked as if I didn’t already know.
Police was cuffing him as everyone looked on. His nose and ear bled as they escorted him to the police cruiser.
Dreamy eyed, Sasha delivered the details. “Out of know where came this super hero and saved us from the robber,” she explained hurriedly.
“Wow... I missed all the action.”
“You sure did. I thought you said you wouldn’t leave me.” Sasha glanced at me as if I’d let her down. “You were so scared, you hid in the restroom like a chicken.” Sasha bumped me playfully with her elbow.
“I would never leave you,” was all I could say because she probably wouldn’t believe a crippled boy like me really saved her.
“The hero kind of grew on me,” said Sasha innocently. “I liked his initials and the way he looked at me.” Sasha blushed.
I smiled inwardly. “What were they? And what kind of look did this ‘hero’ give you?” I asked just for the heck of it.
Sasha looked out to nothing in particular as she spoke. “He had on this bright white-like costume with the initials: M and W joined together. And um... the look was um... mesmerizing.”
She took a moment to show me how the letters were joined with her fingers. Three fingers were facing down on one hand, and the other three fingers on the opposite hand were joined upward.
“So, I need to put on a costume for you and give you my best sexy look,” I said dramatically, touching my chest.
“You are so silly Mark.” Sasha looked at me with a smile, giggling.
“I’ll be your Mighty Wright.”
“Yeah, and I’ll be Wonderwoman,” Sasha countered.
“I can dig that.” I raised an eyebrow and gave her a sly smile.
“What if he had a name like um... Macho Wings first?” Sasha held her laughter back
I side eyed her. “Macho Wings?” I twisted my mouth. “That is so lame.”
“I was just wondering,” she said absent-mindedly.
“Sounds more like infatuation.”
“Not...”
“Whatever.” I shot back playfully.
I was all too happy inside that Sasha liked me. She didn’t have to know that I was really Mighty Wright, but I wished so bad that I could tell her.
“He’s amazing. Don’t be jealous, friend,” Sasha said, popping the collar of her crisp white uniform shirt.
“I would say you are amazing, but you stink for real. Just when I decided to give you a compliment, you get the big head,” I responded. We joked with each other all the time, about anything, without causing any harm.
“Well be nice and I’ll push the rest of the way to school.” Sasha ran a hand over my spiky hair. “Let me hook my bag on the Wheelster and we’re outta here.”
I heard my dad’s voice approaching. “Let’s go out the back. He’ll be all over us for a report,” I said urgently.
Sasha spun me around in the Wheelster and pushed me toward the exit door quickly. Outside, the yellow sun sprayed our faces. Happy to get pass the cops, I popped wheelies down the sidewalk as I told Sasha a joke.
“An old married couple no sooner hit the pillows when the old man passes gas and says, “Seven points”.
His wife rolls over and asks, “What in the world was that?”
The old man replied, “It’s fart football!” A few minutes later his wife lets one go and says, “Touchdown. Tie score...”
After about five minutes the old man lets another one go and says, “Aha! I’m ahead 14-7.”
Not to be outdone, the wife rips another one and says, “Touchdown...tie score.”
Five seconds go by and she lets out a little squeaker and says, “Field goal-I lead 17-14.”
The old man refuses to be beaten by a woman, so he strains real hard.
Since defeat is totally unacceptable, he gives it everything he’s got, and accidentally poops the bed.
The wife says, “What was that?”
The old man says, “Half time, switch sides.”
We laughed all the way until we reached Dream High. My morning started off fighting crime, which is what I do. I have to admit, I thought, holding the glass door for Sasha.
“Always the perfect gentleman,” she said.
“Anything for you.”
I watched my best friend enter first. We were right on time when the first period bell rang for class.
Chapter 7
With Peter Terrow in the hall- bully is what he is, asked Sasha for her phone number and why she hangs out with a cripple like me,
“Because Mark is my friend,” she said. “He isn’t a big jerk like you. Bully. Terrorist!”
When I smiled and the other students in the hall heard Sasha tell Peter off, by making fun of his last name, he said, “I’m not a terrorist. My name...is Terrow.”
She had him, We all had him, but he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t seem to care much about the friendship Sasha had with me, either.
When a chubby girl next to her locker asked Peter if he was really a terrorist, he told her, being born in the United States made him a citizen. When another girl asked him where in the states, and he answered your backyard, we all stared at him. We gawked at him, but he didn’t seem to care much about it.
Peter didn’t keep us waiting long. The students knew he wouldn’t, and he didn’t. He was being a show-off as always. He tossed me right out of the Wheelster and onto the cold floor.
He had no respect, no friends, and no books. Nothing was good about him. I had mentioned something about it. How could he be like that? Evil. A bully for what? He was at least 6’2” in height, weighing every bit of 200 pounds. His skin and hair was dark as if he’d been soaking up the sun in Afghanistan.
The only reason he picked on me was because he liked Sasha, and couldn’t stand that she gave all of her attention to me instead of him.
The shiny tiled floor welcomed my body with a thump. It’s a good thing that I could use my hands, because they protected my face from slamming into the floor. I heard the other students gasp loudly. The sounds of their voice echoed off the walls. I turned my head to look up at Peter, Sasha, and then to my peers. The only person laughing was Peter. Everyone else had a look of sympathy in their eyes. Then it turned to anger.
“Is that all you’ve got big boy? Bully!” I said sarcastically.
Everyone stood close to their lockers, speaking low, not much more than a whisper, trying to decide if they should help me or run.
“No, it isn’t,” said Peter. “I...am...not...a bully.” he scowled.
Then Peter hauled off and kicked me in the side.
I coughed hard. “Sure, you are. You could be having much more fun with bombs than picking on a cripple.” I groaned in pain.
“Is that right?” asked Peter, towering over me.
“You might say that,” I said hoping he didn’t kick me again.
“Well what would you say if I knocked your teeth out?” Peter growled, with eyebrows that could nest an owl. He backed up a few steps.
“Then, I guess I can just say you’re a coward and a clown.” I lifted up on my elbows.
“Tell me after I punch your lights out.”
Peter hurried toward me, kicking the Wheelster, and then raised a fist to hit me.
“Go ahead! Do it! Do it!” I yelled.
Chapter 8
Peter grabbed the collar of my shirt. Before his fist could land a punch to my nose, Mrs. Clark stepped into the hall. She was small and soft-spoken, with hair curled up like the Flintstones.
“Stop it boys. Terrow, let him go,” she said.
Peter leaned in near my ear. “Lucky you,” he whispered.
“No lucky you,” I managed to say as Mrs. Clark pried his hands from my collar.
He didn’t have to talk about what he was going to do to me. I made a mental note to ‘show’ him what I was going to do.
Peter stood up. His uniform shirt was not tucked and hung loosely.
“Report to your classes. The scuffle is over. Go on.” Mrs. Clark pointed. “Terrow you can report to me for after school detention or opt for suspension.
“Is Mark coming too?” Peter asked.
I spoke up. “I’m the one on the ground.”
“No, he’s not.” Mrs. Clark defended my comment.
“Oh this is just great. But...”
“But nothing. Just get to your class,” Mrs. Clark countered sternly.
I turned over on my stomach so I could drag my body toward the Wheelster. Sasha rushed over to sit the wheelchair up for me.
“Are you okay Mark?” she asked kneeling in front of me.
I tried to avoid her eyes at first.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Sasha ran a hand over my face and shoulder. “Are you sure?”
I turned my head and saw concern on her face.
“Yes, Wonderwoman.” I smiled. “I’m okay.”
Sasha helped lift me up into the Wheelster as I tugged my legs together. We struggled a bit.
“Comfortable?” she asked.
“Yes.” I adjusted myself. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Mark. That’s what friends are for.”
Gently, Sasha ran her hand across my hair. She picked up my book and began pushing me forward.
Chapter 9
It was near eleven, and second period was over when Sasha and I met for lunch. She sat beside me at the hard plastic table. The air was cool, and the cafeteria was full, and everyone seemed to be involved in conversations. We looked to see where the noise was coming from. We looked to see if it was the baseball team getting rowdy as usual on game week. Sasha stood up on the stool peering across the room. Some students were gathered around watching Peter eat food from Chip’s tray. He was the school’s nerd.
“What going on?” I asked.
“Peter, the terrorist is taking Chip’s food,” Sasha answered.
“That poor boy can’t fend for himself. He’s over there trembling like a leaf on a tree.”
I glared up at Sasha and knew what I had to do.
“I forgot my milk. Do you want me to bring you one?”
Sasha shook her head ‘no’ while trying to keep an eye on the situation. I rolled out to the nearby courtyard, kissed my coin and plugged my earbuds in. The music instantly got my adrenaline pumping as I transformed into Mighty Wright, pushing back my Satan red cape.
I hurried out of the empty courtyard, across the side entrance, and down the hallway that led to the cafeteria. The serving line was still moving and full of chatter.
Chapter 10
Dunt, dunt, dunt, dun... The drum roll sounded off.
I made my entrance doing back flips from table to table. I landed behind Peter with carrots in my hands.
“Wow... Who are you?” A cheerleader with too much make-up on asked.
I beamed. “I’m Mighty Wright.” Then flexed my biceps. “I’m mighty as can be.”
I tapped Peter on the shoulder. When he turned around, I crammed the carrots in his ears. The students roared with laughter. I moon walked backward to the music.
“Meet Peter Terrow,” he said charging toward me.
“You’re ‘so’ weak.” I held my right hand out, palm up. “Meet this... It wasn’t cool to take Chip’s food.” The blue currents coming from my hand held Peter back.
Frowning, he tried with all his might to push forward. Nothing happened. The longer I held Peter back and danced. The angrier he became. When I withdrew my hand, he fell forward, breathing like a furious dragon.
“You’re about to pay for that,” growled Peter. He sprung back up on his feet.
I did some Egyptian moves with my hands as the tunes of techno music flowed. Peter pulled the carrots from his ears, dripping with brown wax.
“Eat this,” he said poking them toward my face.
I did a karate kick and the carrots flew into his mouth.
“Give your tongue a rest bully. You are a coward. Ha! Ha!” I laughed.
My hearing was ten times the normal volume. Even with the music pumping in my ears, I could hear the students snickering and making comments. Some of my peers even came up with wild guesses of who I could be and where I came from.
They were between tables and the serving line. Then, there was the sweetest voice ever. Sasha was giving her conclusion to a Hispanic girl wearing a green bow on her shirt and matching beret. “He is such a Peter,” she said. “And Mighty Wright is such a sweetie.” Sasha giggled.
“He sure is, and that Peter is just a doozy.”
“Mighty Wright is my teenage Superman.”
My heart beat three hundred times faster as if I was having an anxiety attack. My vision extended an extra mile. I saw Sasha'’ heart beat in slow motion.
Then Peter was up, swinging again. I blocked each punch. Swiftly, I spun around him like a tornado, wrapped him in a thick, gooey orange paste released from the belt through my index finger.
“Next time, pick on someone your own size,” I said, and slid sideways like James Brown. I did some fancy footwork.
Peter was too dizzy to respond. He couldn’t and didn’t answer. He looked out over the cafeteria at the spinning students in the crowd laughing at him glued to the wall.
Chapter 11
I whipped my cape around and started back the way I came before the principle arrived. I returned to the exit, looked up and down the hallway, hopped across the entrance to the courtyard. I kissed the coin and removed the earbuds. Easily, my body dropped into the Wheelster. Normally, I wasn’t what you’d call a quick dresser, but when needed I could change into my bright white and Satan red in a flash.
I turned the wheels and rolled quickly back across the classrooms and lockers and into the cafeteria, near the middle. Sasha was waiting for me, still standing on the seat. She stepped down when I rolled closer. She ran her hand across my hair.
“What took you so long?” Sasha asked me.
“The line got held up. Why? Did you miss me?” Smiling I raised my eyebrows.
Sasha smacked her glossed lips. “Did you see Mighty Wright?”
“Look at you all dreamy eyed. Yeah, I caught a glimpse.”
“So what did you think?”
“He’s pretty cool,” I answered nonchalantly.
“Get outta here,” said Sasha. “He ‘s super cool.”
“He is super cool just like me with a kick-butt attitude,” I said.
Sasha laughed. A good hearty laugh.
“What an ego,” she said, smiling.
“I’m the man.”
“You would say that.”
A few minutes later we left the cafeteria and made our way through the crowd toward the hallway and lockers. Sasha walked slowly, patiently. I rolled the Wheelster beside her, escorting Sasha to her next class, which was chemistry.
“See you after class Mark,’ said Sasha, swinging her shiny ponytail.
“I’ll pull out my cape and fly you home,” I said with one raised brow. I handed Sasha the two math books in my lap.
“Yeah.” Sasha accepted her books with the prettiest smile. “Always the perfect gentleman,” she said.
The tall man three rooms down, the Science teacher was waiting for me. He had a magnifying glass in his hand. He held it up by the handle, but when he saw me coming, he held the glass up to his eye, following me into the class as if he was analyzing or determining the essential features of quantum physics. Mr. Zinc’s apron was covered in soil.
“Nice of you to join us,” he said.
Chapter 12
The next day I decide to go over to the park and hang out. While my mom did her usual grocery and shoe shopping. I left my dad at the house half-asleep in his chocolate brown recliner watching National Geographic. He would follow up with Sports Center.
Castle Park was where everyone hung out, shot basketball and rode skateboards. Basketball was what I enjoyed most. Though I miss running up and down the court, but I don’t let being handicapped stop me. The only difference is I roll up and down the court in the Wheelster. My defense and offense is even better, and my jump shot is perfect. White boys can’t jump? Kobe and Le Bron better watch out. I’m good if I must say so myself.
I rolled through the entrance of the park, which displayed a castle theme attached to the fence. I went alone to the park. It would have been nice to bring Sasha along, but I knew I would see her later. She mentored me with my math or any subject I struggled in. Sasha made all A’s year round. With her help I was able to pull my grades up from C’s to all A’s and one B. At her house I would be able to cool off under the crisp air conditioner. But in the park I greeted the blazing sun beaming down on the freshly mowed lawn and me.
There was a curly haired college guy in the middle of the field throwing a blue Frisbee with his Lab. An elderly couple sat on a white iron bench feeding birds while two young mothers pushed their excited daughters in swings.
I could see the crew over on the basketball court as I squinted my eyes against the glaring sun and continued to push forward. The crew was teens from the neighborhood, my friends: Michael was skinny as a pencil with a short afro, Toby had long blond hair like a surfer, Kevin sported a box-fade with designs cut into his hair, and Patrick was average in height with a Mohawk.
The sunrays and clouds hung high above the park. Flying beside me was the biggest and prettiest butterfly I’d ever seen, all colors, impressive. The path I was on was made of some round granite stones with cement. I watched from the corner of my eye as a woman and man, perhaps husband and wife laughed and flipped meat on a huge grill under one of the many pavilions. The aroma in the air was filled with spices and charcoal. I wouldn’t mind a juicy grilled cheeseburger and cold glass of sweet lemonade. A light breeze blew across my face, not stirring my spiked hair though. Along the park were children playing, people jogging and teens skateboarding. Music, small talk and basketball goals hung in the air as I reached the green and white court.
I stopped. In front of me my playing partners came over to the corner to approach me; four diverse boys.
“What’s up Mark?” whooped Michael.
I nodded. I exchanged a knuckle pound with him. I noticed the same look on Toby’s face that he gave every time if I was the last one to arrive.
“What Toby?” I asked blandly.
“Dude, you should get one of those electric chairs. A motor scooter.” Toby chuckled. “I mean, your mom’s a nurse- so I know she can get one on discount,” said Toby. “You can ride in that baby like a hot rod.”
“The Wheelster gets me around just fine,” I shot back.
Toby wore a fitted T-shirt and wave printed shorts as if he was ready to hit the beach. I expected him to continue his rant, but he didn’t.