Free The Birth of Super Crip by Rob J. Quinn Page A

over the wind.
     
    Red reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, this is brutal. Let’s
go.”
     
    “What?” Scott snapped. “I was just saying that loud
enough to give us an excuse to talk.”
     
    Red rolled his eyes.
     
    “So, what gives?” Scott asked.
     
    “Huh?” Red muttered, genuinely confused.
     
     
    “Tie score, man. Thought you were gonna help us
out.”
     
    “How do you think it’s tie, genius?” Red said. “Dude,
I’ve stuck it in their gut about twenty times and they still drop
the damn ball.”
     
    “You could stop messing with our right tackle.”
     
    “Yeah, but what fun would that be,” Red said. He
could see his brother was less than amused. “Relax. He’s off the
hook for the rest of the night.”
     
    Scott shrugged. “How ’bout shutting out the Folsom
Rats?”
     
    “You come up with that one by yourself?”
     
    “Whatever. C’mon, man.”
     
    Red looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m trying.
You really think the wind caused . . .” A gust of wind was so
strong he had to turn his head.
     
    “I guess it is worse up here,” Scott said.
     
    “. . . all those passes to sail out of bounds. I
can’t just push down every running back when nobody’s near
them.”
     
    “Yeah, I got it.”
     
    Red looked around. The people nearby seemed too busy
trying to stay warm to worry about them, even if they could hear
the conversation.
     
    “I was thinking about doing something on the punt,”
he said, now having to scream into Scott’s ear just to be heard.
“But it would take a lot. If it’s too crazy, I don’t know, I don’t
want to make it obvious.” He didn’t bother trying to explain his
slip-up around Pete.
     
    Scott leaned into his ear. “You really think one
crazy play is going to make anyone think some kid is using his
newfound superpower to help the Lions?”
     
    Superpower? Red thought. Is that what this is? he
wondered for the first time.
     
    “Besides, what are they really going to do?” Scott
continued. “Tell someone? Everyone would think they were nuts.”
     
    Red barely heard the last couple words his brother
spoke. He leaned against the railing to steady himself against the
wind.
     
    A loud crack pierced through the wind and the
students’ chants. The brothers both looked up as a massive tree
came crashing down on the broadcast booth. Red saw the kid who was
calling the game already halfway down the steps with a guy on his
heels. The tree’s path was only momentarily halted, its weight
beginning what many had always thought was the inevitable toppling
of the booth.
     
    The sound of splintering wood from both the tree and
the booth elicited a loud gasp from the crowd, along with a few
screams of teenage terror. Red’s muscles tensed up. He watched in
horror as the booth gave way, crashing slowly but undeniably toward
them.
     
    Grabbing his brother from behind, Scott started to
pull Red over the railing. Finding the lower rung of the railing
with his foot to push himself up as Scott pulled, Red suddenly
grabbed the top rung with his hand.
     
    “Pete!”
     
    He was never going to make it. He was on his feet,
leaning on just one crutch while reaching down for the other.
     
    The wave came like never before, Red unleashing a
tsunami at the booth, pushing it back against the falling tree as
if it had been hit by a cannonball. The explosion of the booth and
the tree shattered windows half a block from the school.
     
    Finally, yanking Red over the railing, Scott forced
his brother to the walkway and laid on top of him, waiting for
debris to fall on them. Thunderous footsteps seemed to surround
them as the crowd scrambled for the exits.
     
    Scott eventually got to his knees and looked down at
his brother. Red’s eyes were closed and he lay motionless.
     
    “Red,” Scott said, “c’mon, we gotta get out of
here.”
     
    Red didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. “Red!” Scott
screamed, shaking him.