They turned out super well, and when Ale asked if other people might buy them, I made a few and put them in the shop.

People bought them. It took some trial and error, but now my bags are lightweight and customizable for any type of chair—manual, power, even walkers. Plus, they never fall open and dump your books and papers all over.

I get to work on a tie-dye bag for Angus1 from Seattle, stitching the two lightning bolts he wants sewn on in metallic gold thread. My machine isn’t fancy but does decent embroidery, and it has a start/stop switch instead of a foot pedal, which is key. Sewing is slow and precise—not my biggest strengths. Time sewing bags is time I’m not practicing jumps, but it’s going to get me to my goals.

Speaking of that, I’d better head out to the workshop later and borrow Dad’s air compressor to blow the grass and dirt out of my wheels before he gets home.

Next is a smaller Avengers print bag for a girl in North Dakota. That one will have extra pockets, which will take longer, so I put it off for this weekend. Then I read the new order, from an old lady in Alaska. She wants a standard-size manual chair bag in pink plaid. With lace trim. Her profile seems interesting, though—pictures of her fishing and playing guitar and other cool things like that. Anyone who lives on an Alaskan island must be impressive. I open my order log to add it to the list.

• Angus1: medium handlebar bag, tie-dye, two gold lightning bolts. Status: Ready to ship.
• NotYourPrairiePrincess04: small side bag, Avengers print, blue/red ribbon ties. Status: Finish this weekend.

I start entering AK_SalmonGranny’s order and see something I missed earlier. Not only does she want ugly plaid and lace on her bag, she also wants a … personal message.

Keep staring, sweetie … I might do a trick.

Only it doesn’t say sweetie. It says another s-word. One I’m not allowed to say.

I double-check AK_SalmonGranny’s profile. Little old lady, blue-framed wheelchair, sitting on a wooden dock and holding a huge silver fish by the tail.

Grandmothers must be different in Alaska.

“Sorry I took so long!” Ale bursts in with a loaded bucket in one hand and a bag in the other. “I ran home for these.” She lifts the bag. “How’s it going?”

I point to AK_SalmonGranny’s order details. Ale reads it and bursts out laughing. “You going to do it?”

“It’s a little … aggressive?” I know Dad wouldn’t love the idea of me using cusswords. Even just sewed-on ones.

Ale sets down the bucket, pops a piece of gum into her mouth, and hands me one. “You hate when people stare at your chair, too.”

“Of course.” Who doesn’t?

Dad texts me then, telling me he’s going to be later than he planned.

“I say do it,” Ale declares. “That lady seems cool. My abuela would never order something like that.”