Art had gone by in a flash; Mrs. Noyes was an enthusiastic teacher, who had several gestures to show it, not to mention an excellent artist.

I had tried and miserably failed to draw a vase.

I was sitting and munching on my sandwich for lunch, looking quite sullen. I felt sullen, anyways.

This wheelchair thing was getting boring, inconvenient, and depressing, really fast.

I didn’t want to be wheeled around by others. I wanted to get up and walk and run. I wanted to play basketball again.

I sighed, and lowered the ham sandwich onto my lap. The cellophane crinkled under my touch, and I toyed with it for a while.

Suddenly, the window of the room creaked open, and the person I least expected at the time jumped in through it.

We stared at each other for a moment.

“You’re the person I sat next to this morning!” I said, finally realizing.

“Mr. Xavier!” The teacher’s voice was clear behind the door. It soon swung open.

He swore, and then yanked me my wheelchair behind a protruding corner.