The Bad Boy's Sister

Chapter 3 - That's When it Hits Me...Literally

Fourth hour goes about as horrible as fourth can go. Jace is absolutely terrible to Mr. Lemchy and earns himself another day in detention. Maybe that will be a good thing so I won't have to deal with him tomorrow.

Finally, now in my fifth hour, I kick my legs back and forth as I wait for my peer tutor class to begin. I enjoy working with those special handicapped kids; they give me an hour to forget about my problems and help them out a little. They are some of the sweetest kids in the world.

The bell rings and I see sweet Hannah rolling her wheel chair over to me. She was in a terrible car accident when she was fourteen. Because of the damage that was done, her legs required amputation and her face was severely burned, but she still had her same normal mentality.

"Hey, cutie," I say to her as she pulls up next to me. She beams and attempts to wrap an arm around me.

"Hi, Sam," she grins, giving me a tight hug. Her soft arm has a load of strength from wheeling herself around all the time so I felt my gut being squished into a pancake.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Same old," she shrugs, glancing at her thighs. "Just plowing around in the ol' buggy, that's all. What about you?"

"Just suffering from Jace," I sigh, pouting.

"Same old, same old," she laughs casually. "Our lives are so exciting."

"Totally," I join in with her sarcasm, giggling. I didn't know how she was so positive all of the time. She had already been through so much in her young life.

"Samantha, could you do me a favor?" Mrs. Wilson asks me.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Wilson," I reply. "What do you need?"

"Hannah needs to visit with her counselor to discuss some high school stuff with her. Would you mind wheeling her up there so she doesn't have as much work to do?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Wilson," Hannah protests. I know how hard it is for her to be dependent on others, but she was really killing her arms.

"It's okay, Hannah," I comfort her. "I would actually enjoy it. It gives me more time to be with my best bud."

She grins. "Okay, I guess I'll let you."

"Thank you, honey," Mrs. Wilson pats her head. "And thank you, too, Samantha."

"Anytime," I nod, gripping Hannah's wheel chair by the handles. We got the elevator key and quickly fumble around the door and into the hall. Hannah folds her arms in the chair as we make our way to the counselor's office.

"Why are people so afraid of handicapped people?" Hannah sighs, touching the end of her legs. "They treat us like we're diseased."

"Who's they?" I wonder.

"Most people," she replies, her shoulders slumping sadly.

"It's because you're different, honey," I say, "but I think if people were introduced to being around you, they wouldn't be scared."

"Just like you," she beams at me. "Did you once fear us?"

"Yes, I did," I nod, regretfully.

"What made you change?"

"It's actually a funny story," I explain. "I had gotten in trouble for something Jace had done while I was hanging out with him one time. He had trespassed and I went in after him, which got us both in trouble. I'd been given twelve hours minimum of community service which they sent me to a special needs center. That's where I knocked out the hours."

"Your brother is terrible," Hannah says, scrunching up her nose. I let out a small chuckle.

"I agree, but if he hadn't done that, I wouldn't be working with you guys," I tell her. "I love it and I'm actually grateful to him for once."