Paraplegic (COMPLETED)

Chapter 8

Have you ever had one of those days where nothing seemed to go right? Maybe you slipped on a rain puddle and fell flat on your butt and then everyone around you laughed at your expense? Or perhaps it was the moment your mouth salivated as you raised a moist piece of chocolate cake to your lips, only to have it crumble in half and fall on your pants leaving an embarrassing brown stain? Well, that's basically how my day has gone. But multiply it by a thousand. Then multiply it by a million.

Then multiply it by googol.

I had called mother after the game had ended for her to come pick me up. A part of me didn't really want to make that phone call considering the heated conversation we previously had, but I also didn't feel like walking home in the dark, so I chose the lesser of two evils. I was sitting on the front steps of the school when she arrived. The entire drive home she grilled me with questions like, "How'd the game go?", and "Did you help clean up the cafeteria like your father ordered?". She even had the nerve to ask, "Did you apologize to that girl for treating her so harshly?". I told her that the game went horrible, and yes, I did clean up the cafeteria—sort of—and that I didn't see the girl again, so I wasn't able to deliver an apology. I've never been more appreciative for how close we live to school than I am right now. I can't take much more of this interrogation.

The gym became dead rather quickly after the Hawks found out they had lost the championship. The team trudged back to the lockers to shower, heads hung in defeat as they walked, while each of the Blue Jays went their separate ways. I guess it was an undisclosed understanding that there wasn't going to be an after-party. I wanted to ask Xander, but I didn't see him again after he had stormed out of the gym. I hope he's going to be okay. He seemed pretty upset. Basketball has been his passion, his life for as long as I've known him. I know he really wanted to get accepted into Duke.

Which reminds me; I haven't yet opened my letter from Stanford!

As we pull into the garage, I turn to mother. "Where did you put my letter from Stanford?"

"It's on the kitchen counter next to the coffee maker."

I suddenly feel like a little kid eagerly waiting to open their birthday present. I rush inside the house and straight to the kitchen. A little white envelope is laying next to the coffee maker, still sealed. There's a strong urge swelling inside of me to rip it open right here, right now, but I know Aurora would want to share this moment with me. I pull my phone from my back pocket.

Me: Rora, meet me @ The Bluff in 20 mins!!

Aurora: I'm on my way, Bestie!

* * *

The Bluff is this canyon on the 15th hole of the golf course. It's actually a quarry that the developers decided to keep when they designed the golf course, but Aurora and I had given it the name The Bluff when we were little. We felt it needed a cool name. Looking back on those years, I'm shocked mother even allowed us to play here at such a young age. It's like an eighty foot drop to a rocky impact. One wrong move and you're dead. Over the years, rain has eroded away most of the larger boulders leaving a hedge of shrubs in its place. But still; it's not exactly a cushy landing.

Aurora doesn't live far; only a couple miles south of Emerald Fairways. There's a dirt road in the midst of the forest bordering this hole that has been leveled by the golf carts that drive across it. A zigzag formation through a maze of trees—which Aurora has committed the correct pathway to memory—and you will emerge on the other side in Aurora's neighborhood. If either of us were ever in a crisis, bored, or just simply wanted to talk, she would hop on her ten speed mountain bike and make the quick journey over here.

The unmistakable sound of chain link grinding together comes into earshot. The poor bike isn't in the same condition it was when Aurora received it for her eighth birthday. She's actually long since outgrown it and looks way too big for it, but I guess her family's budget doesn't allow for a new one. So, she just raises the seat to its highest function and rides it with pride.