Different colored minds

Rolling out

JOE POV

For the first time in my life I really care what I'm wearing. At least with my prosthetic I can wear two shoes. I look into my closet and stare at my clothes. My stomach hurts like hell, I probably shouldn't even be up right now. But I'll be damned if I can't go to church with my friends. But I can tell the longer I'm standing, standing is probably not a good option. I look to the other side of my room. Looks like I'm going to church in my wheel chair. I roll my eyes, sigh and then dial Maverick's number.
"Hey Maverick,"
"Yeah."
"You're gonna have to roll me to church."
"Sounds like a plan, drop me your addy, I can drive us there too." I briefly smile. I remember the days when Steven would drive me everywhere.
"I'll meet you out front," I smile.
It takes an hour to persuade my parents to let me go, they keep thinking my wound will open and I'll probably die during church. I kind of don't care, at this point God must be trying to keep me alive cuz the world already tried to kill me twice. Finally, I persuade them to let me go, and soon enough Maverick is dinging on my doorbell for me to come out.
"Hey," Maverick stands at the door.
"Hey dude," my mom is wheeling me to the door.
"Here you go," she says jovially handing me off. Maverick takes me with glee.
"Have you ever thought of getting a motorized one? I know how to jack the speed. Or what about a wheely?"
"Hopefully I won't need to," I say, "one day I wanna walk without those stupid crutches either."
We're at the car, he helps me in.
"Let's go to church!" He smiles and throws the car into gear.

Church is bustling when we get there. I see Pamela waiting outside for me, standing in the lawn. Next to her is Abelle. And next to them is a group of hundreds of slightly familiar faces. Various students are bandaged up, some of them in suits, some of them in baggy jeans. An eclectic group of students waiting to spend time with God. I smile and let Maverick help me out of the car. Pamela is next to me in a flash. I see some of the kids from the football team walk up.
"Hey dude," some of them say, others pat me on the shoulder.
"Good to see you man,"
"I'm glad you could make it," all of the boys I left behind when I lost my leg. All of my friends I left behind. Some of them aren't here, I know some of them are dead. Which makes it hurt worse that I didn't try harder to be with them while they were alive. I should have tried harder. I'm blessed with this second chance.