Chapter 17

Ethan looked at her, then at the bench, then at his legs. A strange nervousness settled inside him. Standing shouldn't be scary, yet somehow it was. Because failure had become familiar, and familiar things were strangely comfortable. Hope was much more dangerous; hope could hurt you."What if I fall?"Maya shrugged. "Then you fall."That wasn't the answer he wanted. "What if I can't do it?"She shrugged again. "Then we know."Ethan stared at her. Children weren't supposed to be this stubborn. Then again, neither was he.Slowly, he leaned forward, placed both hands on the bench. The wood felt cold beneath his palms. His heart began beating faster. He could feel Robert watching, could feel volunteers glancing over, could feel embarrassment waiting nearby: ready, patient.Ethan pushed downward. Nothing happened. His arms trembled, his shoulders strained, but his body remained seated. The effort exhausted him immediately.He slumped backward. "There," he forced a smile. "We tried."Maya didn't move. "Again."Ethan blinked. "What?""Again."The certainty in her voice left no room for negotiation. He sighed heavily, then leaned forward once more: hands on the bench, breath held.Push.This time, his body lifted slightly: only an inch, maybe two. His legs shook violently, his arms burned, and then he dropped back into the wheelchair, breathing hard. The effort felt ridiculous, humiliating, pointless."I'm done."Maya shook her head. "No."Ethan laughed in disbelief. "No?""No." The little girl stepped closer. Then she said something very quietly—something nobody else heard: not Robert, not the volunteers, only Ethan:"If you quit now, Claire was right."The words landed like lightning. His head snapped upward. "What?"Maya hesitated, realizing she'd said too much. But it was already done.Ethan stared at her, his pulse quickening. The little girl looked toward the ground, then back at him.

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