“Uh-oh,” Zeke says, and I realize with a sinking feeling that when I imagined how this would go, I was so focused on how I’d even make it off that stage I didn’t think enough about how it might all go after.

Then I look behind him—at that crowd all going wild with excitement over what I just did—and that sinking feeling … stops, as the weight of it all hits me.

I got up there. Spoke up for myself. Nailed the best jump of my life off the stage, in front of everyone. With my raggedy old wheelchair, no less.

One little Fish isn’t going to get the best of me now.

I don’t wait for him to reach us. I roll across the hall to meet him, pulling up so close my footrests almost touch his shiny shoes, and tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

“Some crowd, huh? Did you see me stick that landing?”

He wasn’t expecting that, and he pauses. Maybe I’m still riding the adrenaline rush or maybe I’ve just gotten braver, because I finally find the courage to be honest.

“I’m not a cause,” I tell him. “I’m a kid. And an athlete. Same as all your other students.”

As irritated as I’ve been with him through this, the confusion on Dr. Grayling’s face makes me feel a tiny bit bad for him. He was so sure he was doing everything right here.

I can tell he’s still not convinced, and he opens his mouth to argue. But then two sets of people reach either side of us at almost the same second.

On one side are Dad, Nonny, and Pop-Pop. Dad’s shaking his head, trying and completely failing to look mad at me instead of so proud he might explode.

On the other, four newspeople skid to a stop so fast one almost trips over a folded tripod. They hurry over to where Dr. Grayling and I are facing off, questions already flying.

“Emmie! That was incredible!”

“Dr. Grayling? Could we get your thoughts about the school accessibility issue?”

“Have you consulted with local disability agencies about this problem?”

Fish freezes. He looks from me to the cameras and back again. His mouth opens and closes a few times like a bass testing the bait, and I’m 90 percent certain I’ve finally won this battle.

But a deep-down, ornery part of me has to make sure.

I pop into a smooth wheelie and hold it, my front wheels floating and the cameras rolling. Like I’ve said, it’s a lot easier than it looks, but none of them have to know that. Dr. Grayling and I lock eyes again as the flashes and questions flurry around us, and I give him a smile that’s actually real.

One that dares him to tell me to stop.

35

Case Closed

BUDDING ACTIVIST ISSUES CHALLENGE OVER SCHOOL ACCESSIBILITY

Charles Hubbard, Staff Reporter

(Lakeville, SC) A Lakeville junior high student threw down an unexpected challenge to members of her school and community on Sunday night at E. L. Pinckney Junior High School. When Emelyn Ethrige, age 12, took the stage, the audience expected to see her receive a community-donated check to cover the cost of a new custom wheelchair. But, in a surprise twist, Emelyn gave the money back to the school, asking them to put it toward making her school campus accessible “for me and other folks here who use wheels.”