I reach once more, the tip of my toes barely helping me get taller. My legs shake and I feel dizzy, but I just want to try. I just want to get a bowl.

"Y/n!" I quickly go back onto my feet and close the cupboard. 

"Yes, Mom?" 

"What have I told you about doing this on your own? Get back into bed!" She grabs me by the arm and gently takes me to my room.

"Today you're getting a caretaker so that when I'm at work, I won't have to worry about you getting into trouble."

"Mom, I'm fine. I was just trying to get a bowl!" I protest weakly. Too bad she's so stubborn.

"And you almost toppled over, Y/n." 

A silence hangs between us. A doorbell rings. Once she leaves, I get out of my bed and walk over to my window. A blue car was parked in the driveway, clashing with the bright green of the grass and grey sky. I rest my head on my hand as a guy, not too much older than me, exits the car.

He greets my mom and she smiles brightly. All of her problems are solved, I guess. She doesn't need to worry about me as she said. 

"Y/n is a very lovely girl, I think you will have no trouble with her."

"She lying to you," I whisper. "I'll create all the trouble."

They walk into the house and I rush back to my bed, my feet thumping and almost making me fall over. The steps up the stairs quicken, and I balance myself.

"Y/n L/n, get back into your bed right now!" My mom scolds. She turns to the boy who will be 'taking care of me'. "I'm so sorry you have to see her like this."

"Ma'am, it's really no problem." The boy smiles. He has buck teeth and a straight smile, not hat I was paying attention. He also has black hair and slightly tan skin. Blue eyes too, almost like his car. "I bet she was just wanting to get up to greet us."

"Well, she shouldn't even be out of her bed."

"Mom, just go to work."

"Alright, I leave her in your care, Mr Egbert. Call me if anything goes wrong or if she's behaving badly."

"Will do, Mrs L/n."

"Love you, Mom."

She leaves the room and I scowl at this apparent Mr Egbert. I get back into my bed and cross my arms. He looks over at me with a small smile. Why is he even smiling?

"I don't even know why she even hired you," I sneer. "I can get around on my own, I don't need a caretaker the same age as me to take care of me."

"Right, and you weren't trying to walk just then." He sits on my bed. His coke-bottle-thick glasses make his eyes huge.

"Just go downstairs and watch TV like the other aids." I turn away from him, looking at one of the posters on my wall.

He leaves quietly and shuts to door quietly. Why is he so quiet? He's not like other caretakers. Whatever, I can do stuff on my own and I don't need his help.

-Next Day-

"So, I heard you have muscular dystrophy," He starts. right to the good ol' doctor stuff. "Do you know what kind?"

"Congenital."

"Right, okay. Do you need help getting to the kitchen, bathroom?"

"No, I can get there myself. Go away."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I promised your mom that I'd help you."

"You'd help me by leaving."

"Listen, if you let me help you, you can get out of the bed. We can even get out of the house."

That caught my attention. Out of the house? The only time I get to go out is for the doctor. Or the hospital. Either way, for medical attention. I heard there was a park near my house.

"Where would we go?"

"Well, where do you want to go?"

"The park."

"Alright," He says, getting up. "I'll let you get ready. Holler if you need help."

He leaves and closes the door (quietly again) and I push myself up the best I can, which means rolling on half of myself and pushing up on shaky feet. Stupid, stupid, stupid feet. I grab some nearby clothes, changing at an irritating pace. 

"You okay, Y/n?"

"I'm fine, Egbert. Go get my coat."

"Okay." I hear him shuffle down the stairs and I grab my cane just in case.

 I open the door, my crooked feet shuffling slowly out of my room, out of the stale air. He stands at the top of the stairs, looking at me expectedly. He was holding my favorite one, a f/c one with silver buttons and a furry hood. He takes a hold of my arm and I don't reject it. It's the stairs that are difficult for me.

"I could just carry you to the car."

"And make me look like some invalid?" I say in a harsh tone. "I'm not, don't treat me like Colin from The Secret Garden."

"So you like books then?"

"What else am I supposed to do in that room besides read?" I lean on him a little and we take almost an hour to get down.

I'm so tired, but I don't want him to think I'm weak, because I'm not. It's just been a while since I've been out of my room and actually going places. He opens the heavy oak door with ease and the bright grey of fog blinds me momentarily. He leads me to his car, the blue more colorful than all the houses on my street combined. I climb into the passengers seat, heavy breathes making a way through my lungs, him helping me just a little bit. I don't acknowledge it.

"You okay?"

"Just drive."

He puts the car into reverse and then drive. We're away.

The town is so beautiful! There were trees blooming pink flowers and kids walking with moms and dads, there were even a few couples walking their fluffy dogs! Colorful shops and flags and a little band on the sidewalk were playing. I smile, the view looking way better than a show or a page of a book I've already read.

He parks, placing a disabled person placard on his rear-view mirror. I glare at the stupid blue card, sealing my fate as disabled. I look over at the park. There's a pathway to the main area, a swing set nearby. I haven't been on a swing before, I don't think.

"I want to go there." I point and he chuckles. 

"I guess we have to walk over there, huh?" We do? I'm still so tired from walking out of the house, and I think he could tell. "One moment."

He pulls out a wheelchair out of the back of his car, unfolding it. It's blue, like almost everything he owns. Once I can move normally, I'm painting my room every color except for blue.

He helps me get into the chair, a slight pain in my hip. He wheels me on the walkway, kids staring at me and moms telling them not to point and look. I flip my hood over my head.

"Hey, no need to do that." 

"John, you're not the one who is in a wheelchair being stared at by everyone."

"So now you're calling me by my first name?"

"Shut up, Egbert."

He wheels me over the the swings, no one on them. Good. He helps me up and onto the swing. I can't push myself, I never figured out how, so he does it for me. 

The air is so sharp and cold against my cheeks, the air being pumped fast throughout my lungs. The sky seems so much closer. I hold onto the metal chains for dear life, not wanting to ever let go. I feel like I can touch the tree tops! I can pet birds up here. 

I can fly away.

I let out a loud laugh at this revelation. Me, flying? That's not possible as a human. But, on this swing, I can do anything. I don't want to go back down. John laughs with me, people stop staring and go back to their daily lives. I don't care.

I'm flying.

**I will be making a part 2, possibly even a part 3 because I have big plans and I don't just want to end it all here, but I already wrote 1338 words for the story. I'll finish it when I have time, but I do have something to do to make y'all be with Eggy Boi. I hope everybody's been having a lovely day/night, and I wish you the best!! Love you guys, bye :o)!**