Wheelchair Accessible

Part Five

"You're going down!" Ryder skipped ahead of me, so excited he could barely keep his feet on the ground. His floppy, sand-colored hair bounced in and out of his eyes with each step. "I can't believe Grandma let us go, she was so grumpy this morning."

                "Because you woke her up super early," I told him, dribbling the basketball against the pavement as we walked.

                After weeks of Ryder begging me to take him to the recreation park to play basketball, the day had finally arrived. Timing had never worked out, and I had been less than motivated to show my face where people from school hung out on the weekends, but for some reason, I felt like I could do it today.

It was actually a really cool place. There were volleyball nets, green spaces for soccer, a disc golf course... everything. And it was almost as if the universe was rewarding me, by giving us the warmest day of the month, not a cloud in the sky, and an open court, free of people.

                "I was excited," he shrugged, unashamed, as we reached the cement pad. "So what are we going to do?"

                "A little one-on-one?" I suggested, sending him a bounce pass which he caught easily with his small hands.

                "Let's bet something. Make it a challenge," he said, unzipping his hoodie and tossing it down on the edge of the court.

                I hid a smile at his tough-guy act, trying to seem serious."What do you suggest? It better be something good."

                "I win, you buy me a slushie."

                "Sure. And if I win?"

                "You buy me a slushie." Once he stopped giggling at his own joke, he added, "Okay, I'll.... clean your room."

                Reaching out my hand to shake his, I nodded, "Deal, but I'll warn you... it's bad in there."

                "I know. Grandma tells me all the time. She says there's underwear on the floor."

                I shrugged, unable to deny it, and got into my ready position to guard the net. Ryder dribbled the ball a couple of times to warm up and then moved in on me. I shuffled over to block him, reaching to snag the ball away. We went back and forth like this for a while; I had to put on a good act so that Ryder couldn't tell I was throwing the game to him. I followed him around the court blocking half of his shots, and really played up the fact that he was managing to get past me. 

                He was eating it up, barely suppressing a cocky smile as we ran around the court taunting each other.

"Somebody get me a marshmallow because my game is on fire!" Ryder hooted, pacing the three-point line.               

I pulled a face, "Don't say stuff like that." 

"Why not? It's cool. It's trash talk." 

"It's lame," I snorted, taking a step forward to pressure him. 

"You're lame!" he shouted as he jumped and went for a three. The ball sailed through the air and completely missed the backboard, ricocheting off the chain-link fence and rolling away. 

We both burst into laughter at his complete bomb. "You're getting that." 

He huffed and chased after the loose ball, just as a low voice called from behind me. "Hey, Harris."