Read Online Qualify by Vera Nazarian - Free Book Online Page B

and approaches the student. Ligerat stops before the seated boy and shakes his hand. He then scans his token and for the first time there is a smile on his weirdly Egyptian face.
    The auditorium erupts in applause, and it’s pretty much a standing ovation. A few of the teachers and even the students are wiping their eyes.
    “Wow! That was sick! Amazing! Man, that kid, what he did—just wow!”
    George turns to look at Gracie. “Now you have no excuse whatsoever, Gee Four. If that poor kid in a wheelchair can do it, so can you! That was awesome!”
    But Gracie does not need to be convinced. She is holding her head up and she is suddenly calm. “I know,” she says. “I can do it.”
    “Exactly,” I say. “We can all do this thing.”
    And just for a moment I believe it. Thanks, kid in a wheelchair. I might not have done it without you.
    As I think it, I’m not even kidding.
     
     
    A bout forty minutes later, we make it to the front of the stage, at long last. Holy moly. That’s what Dad says when things are weird, and now I repeat it in my head, like a calming mantra. “Holy moly.” We leave our bags below in a pile, right near the corner where the stage stairs are, as all the other students have been doing before going up. We’ll come back for them after this is over.
    So far, we’ve seen it all. The good, the bad, and the seriously pitiful. My friend Ann Finnbar up there, standing up awkwardly but okay, as she manages to ride the board without any problem. A whole bunch of my classmates winging it, one way or another. The popular in-crowd bullies Mark and Chris and Jenny mostly doing well and staying on. But no sign of Logan Sangre—I’m guessing he’s still in line somewhere behind us. And then there are students of all ages freaking out over the hoverboard, and a few even manage to fall off the board onto the mat below. No one gets hurt, thank goodness.
    And now, here we are.
    Eddie is right before George, and he takes his turn in a mediocre way. He stays up, and that’s pretty much what counts.
    When the board returns, George, who is getting his ID token scanned by Principal Marksen, is up next. He turns to look at us as we stand near the front, waiting, and he smiles and winks.
    George then gets up on the hoverboard and rides it, balancing decently considering he’s never ridden any kind of board before in his life, and flailing his hands only once in the middle of the auditorium. He makes it to the end safely, and I let myself breathe in relief.
    Gordie is next. Okay, my younger brother is just nuts. I watch him put on the token pin, then smile and step on the board, testing its give with his foot with a kind of dazed loony pleasure. He mutters something unintelligible, then puts his other foot up and balances. He says, “Go!” and as the board moves, lets out a woot of excitement, while I put my hand to my mouth and Gracie lets her jaw drop.
    We watch Gordie sail all the way across the auditorium, and make it safely and amazingly to the end. He jumps off, and turns to wave at us from a distance, as though he’s just taken an amusement park ride.
    “That boy is crazy,” I say with a smile. “Eh, Gracie? Our little bro is nuts!”
    But now the board has returned, and Gracie turns to me and suddenly she is serious and wide-eyed again.
    “You can do it, easy!” I squeeze her hand, and nod at her. My lips are mouthing “wheelchair kid” and I watch her nod at me. Then my sister steps to the front of the stage.
    I ball up my hands and hold my breath again, as Gracie gets her token.
    She pauses next to the hoverboard. From where I’m standing I can only see her back and her long dirty-blond hair, and can just imagine her face. . . .
    She places one foot on the board, testing it. Then she brings up the other foot, and she is balancing. Arms are flailing. She steps off, losing her balance.
    Oh damn.
    Gracie tries again. She steps onto the board and again, flails. Seconds tick. Everyone is