Read Online The Birth of Super Crip by Rob J. Quinn - Free Book Online
Authors: Rob J. Quinn
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making a move
that seemed likely to lead to yet another easy goal for him, and a
breakaway with some shockingly crisp passing led to a goal for
Red’s team. Another goal came on a pass Lee seemed to be about to
steal, only to see it bounce off his stick into his own net.
Finally, Drew took a rare breakaway opportunity as a defensive
player. Driving the length of the court without losing the
ball—with some subtle help from Red using the wave to help him
control it—Drew rolled in the game winner just before the school
bell rang.
His teammates surrounded Drew, offering celebratory
stick slaps or pats on the back—their excitement bolstered by the
knowledge that the bell also signaled the beginning of the weekend.
But there was an unmistakable joy on all of their faces at having
finally defeated Lee. Even some of the kids on the other team
seemed pleased.
Finally offering his last high five to Pete, Red
turned to put his stick away and grab his things. He saw a dejected
Lee putting on his jacket.
The joy in the victory was suddenly gone for Red.
“Great game,” Drew said, passing Red as he headed for
the door.
“Thanks,” Red said, less than sure he’d done anything
great as he joined Drew on the way out.
Chapter
11
The lights were the only thing casting shadows while
the teams finished their warm-up drills. Showers forecast for the
overnight hours seemed destined to arrive early. Clouds blocked
what had been a warm late September sun, and a light afternoon
breeze had turned into a brisk wind.
Scott hustled up the bleachers to where Red was
leaning against the railing of the accessible seating area looking
out over the field. His power chair was parked off to the side of
the top of the ramp that granted access to the section.
“I never understood why they put you guys over here,”
Scott said as he reached his brother.
“You expected forethought for us?”
“You’ll survive,” Scott said, standing on the other
side of the railing as a steady but sparse line of people passed
behind him on the walkway that separated the upper and lower
bleachers.
“Just like we do without an elevator in A-wing.”
“I got ya, I got ya,” Scott said. “I hear your
favorite player is fuming.”
“My favorite player?”
“Chuck Groslin,” Scott explained. “The whole team’s
been busting his stones about getting knocked on his ass by you.
Started calling you ‘Super Crip’ or something. Even the coach
started riding him in practice. He was yelling, ‘We should get
Super Crip out here to play for you’ every time he screwed up.”
Red couldn’t help but laugh a little even though he
hated the name.
“He got in like three fights in practice yesterday,”
Scott added. “The coach almost suspended him for the game.”
“Damn, I could’ve suited up for the dickhead,” Red
joked.
“Well, uh,” Scott said, peeking to either side of him
to make sure no one was paying attention, “you could still help the
team out, you know? So, uh, we gonna win tonight?”
Red raised his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting . . .”
He left the question unfinished.
“C’mon, dude,” Scott urged. “We suck. Plus, I got
Danny ready to bet me.”
“Oh, nice. Trying to use me.”
“You can test your skills,” Scott said, trying to
entice him.
It wasn’t a bad thought, Red knew. He also knew he
didn’t exactly have a good feeling after what he did in gym class.
“I don’t even know how much I can do,” he said. “Besides, I’m a
little tired from gym class.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, I used it a lot,” Red said, not wanting to
explain further.
“So?” Scott said. “See, you can do it.”
Red nodded. “No promises, but . . .”
He was interrupted as Pete approached from behind.
“All the freshmen bail out?” he said as much as asked. Then,
noticing Scott, he said, “Oh, I
that seemed likely to lead to yet another easy goal for him, and a
breakaway with some shockingly crisp passing led to a goal for
Red’s team. Another goal came on a pass Lee seemed to be about to
steal, only to see it bounce off his stick into his own net.
Finally, Drew took a rare breakaway opportunity as a defensive
player. Driving the length of the court without losing the
ball—with some subtle help from Red using the wave to help him
control it—Drew rolled in the game winner just before the school
bell rang.
His teammates surrounded Drew, offering celebratory
stick slaps or pats on the back—their excitement bolstered by the
knowledge that the bell also signaled the beginning of the weekend.
But there was an unmistakable joy on all of their faces at having
finally defeated Lee. Even some of the kids on the other team
seemed pleased.
Finally offering his last high five to Pete, Red
turned to put his stick away and grab his things. He saw a dejected
Lee putting on his jacket.
The joy in the victory was suddenly gone for Red.
“Great game,” Drew said, passing Red as he headed for
the door.
“Thanks,” Red said, less than sure he’d done anything
great as he joined Drew on the way out.
Chapter
11
The lights were the only thing casting shadows while
the teams finished their warm-up drills. Showers forecast for the
overnight hours seemed destined to arrive early. Clouds blocked
what had been a warm late September sun, and a light afternoon
breeze had turned into a brisk wind.
Scott hustled up the bleachers to where Red was
leaning against the railing of the accessible seating area looking
out over the field. His power chair was parked off to the side of
the top of the ramp that granted access to the section.
“I never understood why they put you guys over here,”
Scott said as he reached his brother.
“You expected forethought for us?”
“You’ll survive,” Scott said, standing on the other
side of the railing as a steady but sparse line of people passed
behind him on the walkway that separated the upper and lower
bleachers.
“Just like we do without an elevator in A-wing.”
“I got ya, I got ya,” Scott said. “I hear your
favorite player is fuming.”
“My favorite player?”
“Chuck Groslin,” Scott explained. “The whole team’s
been busting his stones about getting knocked on his ass by you.
Started calling you ‘Super Crip’ or something. Even the coach
started riding him in practice. He was yelling, ‘We should get
Super Crip out here to play for you’ every time he screwed up.”
Red couldn’t help but laugh a little even though he
hated the name.
“He got in like three fights in practice yesterday,”
Scott added. “The coach almost suspended him for the game.”
“Damn, I could’ve suited up for the dickhead,” Red
joked.
“Well, uh,” Scott said, peeking to either side of him
to make sure no one was paying attention, “you could still help the
team out, you know? So, uh, we gonna win tonight?”
Red raised his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting . . .”
He left the question unfinished.
“C’mon, dude,” Scott urged. “We suck. Plus, I got
Danny ready to bet me.”
“Oh, nice. Trying to use me.”
“You can test your skills,” Scott said, trying to
entice him.
It wasn’t a bad thought, Red knew. He also knew he
didn’t exactly have a good feeling after what he did in gym class.
“I don’t even know how much I can do,” he said. “Besides, I’m a
little tired from gym class.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, I used it a lot,” Red said, not wanting to
explain further.
“So?” Scott said. “See, you can do it.”
Red nodded. “No promises, but . . .”
He was interrupted as Pete approached from behind.
“All the freshmen bail out?” he said as much as asked. Then,
noticing Scott, he said, “Oh, I
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