Miracle

The Plan

We were in the parking lot at 10:30 P.M. I squinted to see the blue sign in the faint lamp light. It said "Marty's Clinic and Therapy." I was guessing physical therapy. Kylie pulled out my wheelchair, and I plopped myself in. It didn't hurt anymore. Maybe I would be able to play soccer again. Aubrey rolled me into the building. Kylie knocked on the door, and a young man walked to the door. Marty? No way. He was too young to be a Marty.

"Hey, Marcell. Is your dad, Marty, here?" Kylie asked. He saw me. He looked sorry for me. He had sandy blond hair and gray eyes. He called for Marty, and he came. He was an old man with crazy gray hair and small round glasses in the bridge of his nose. He wore a collared blue shirt that said "Marty" and casual khaki pants. He looked at me. He beckoned us in. He turned on the lights. It was a small little gym room made as a clinic and a physical therapy room. We explained my problem.

"Well, I promise I will make you walk again." He smiled. I suddenly realized. This was the man who was going to make me better.