Wheelchair Bound, Chapter 8, Calling the Shots (Avery's POV)

"Neil, can you come in here please! I need help!"

"Sure, are you dressed?"

"No, but I need some help!"

"But... you're naked?"

Avery sighed. It had been over two months since the blow up over the deepfake and the other liberties Neil had taken, and she had to admit he had done literally everything he could to make sure she felt safe with him. He was acting according to the rules she'd set. He'd been respectful to a fault. Right now the fault was she needed him in here to help her, regardless of her state of dress.

"Are you going to try anything?"

"No, of course not!"

"THEN GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, I NEED HELP!"

It wasn't anger. Not really. She was just frustrated. Frustrated with how far she'd come and yet how easy it was for things to go wrong and for her to need help fixing it.

The bathroom door opened and Neil stepped inside.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't want to embarrass you."

She stared at him for a second. He was looking away from her, doing everything in his power to spare her feelings. She'd say it was an overreaction, but she'd made it clear that one wrong move would see him gone. It had been a reasonable thing to say at the time, but the consequences were sometimes a pain in the ass.

"I'm not the fucking Medusa, Neil," she said. "You won't turn to stone if you look at me."

"I know. I just--"

"Neil! You've changed, okay? I see that. You've behaved better than I could ever have hoped."

She sighed, half at him and half at herself. This was a minefield of her own creation, even if she had needed it at the time. But its time was over.

"Let's just say you've rebuilt a lot of trust you destroyed and I'm not worried about you seeing me naked when you need to help me anymore. I won't get mad. I won't get rid of you. And I promise to tell you if I want you NOT to see me anytime."

Hopefully that put his mind at ease, because they were running out of time.

"And right now, if we don't get moving we're gonna be late for the damn game!"

"Okay, Avery. Thanks," he turned and looked at her and quickly squashed the chuckle that escaped him. "Erm... what happened?"

Avery cringed. She was still wet from the shower, covered in toilet paper, with her shirt half clutched in one hand and half stuck in the brake of her chair. A bottle of perfume was spilling its contents all over the floor and a pile of towels had fallen in place to stop it spreading.

"I made the transfer fine," she said. "But my shirt got knocked on the floor and I almost tipped when I... Look, it doesn't matter what happened. Just help me. Okay?"

Neil gave her a smile as he strode into the room to sort things out. First was the perfume -- the sharp floral scent was already making his eyes water, a little definitely went a long way. He picked it up to stop what remained running out. The towels were already damp from the spill, and they'd need a wash anyway, so he used them to mop the floor and tossed them into the hamper. Next was the toilet paper. She had bits of it stuck to her damp skin, clinging in soggy little patches. She could handle them, but it would be a lot easier without the trailing ends of the rolls trying to lasso the chair. He tore them off and stacked them. Finally, he reached for her shirt, gently freeing it from the brake and handing it over. It took less than a minute, and the disaster was gone.

She gave him a mock resentful look, based in both appreciation and the memory of when it was so easy for her too. "Thanks," she grumped before giving him a warmer look. "Seriously, thanks, Neil. I hate being stuck like that. It just feels like I can't do anything sometimes."

"But you can!" he said. "You've come so far - honestly, you barely need me now except for cleaning and occasional help when things go wrong."

"I suppose... anyhow, let's get moving. The Hotwheels have been invited to a tournament," her eyes sparked with excitement as she rubbed her hands over her thighs. The thrill of the challenge was there for her again, even if she wasn't actually on the team. "Frank says it's just an amateur thing, something regional, but I don't think he should be blowing it off like that. It's a competition and to an athlete that means a lot."

"You're so eager to go, but you said you don't want to compete anymore."

"I know," said Avery. "And I told Frank that too. But he says that's ok, the team just want to practice with me. If I can be their good luck charm, I'm fine with that."

She paused before adding something else, something she was reluctant to admit.

"Also... I really liked using the chair when we last went. I know I didn't even make a basket and got breathless quick, but it was fun."

Neil grinned. "That's great. I've got your old uniform laid out on your bed if you want to use it, or you can just wear your regular clothes."

"Nah, I think tonight's a good night for the full kit."

It felt different this time. Last time Avery had come to one of Frank's training sessions she'd only done it through stubbornness after Neil had tried to protect her by saying "No" to his uncle. Now she wanted this and once she was out of the car, Neil could barely keep up with her. Stones, uneven flags, things that would normally cause her to struggle she pushed past hard enough to almost throw herself from her chair.

"FRANK!" she shouted, as soon as she got through the door. "How's the team doing?"

"Avery, thanks for coming! Team's great! It's the first time we've been invited to the New England Regional Amateur Wheelchair Championship. That's major for us. I'm glad you came to help."

Avery looked around and saw the team quickly pulling to a halt in their workout and turning to face her. Their excitement was obvious, almost enough to make her feel uncomfortable. They were wheelchair athletes, she was an ex-able-bodied one. They outclassed her when it came to using a chair. They'd proven that last time. But if her prior prestige as a college basketball player helped them gain confidence then she was more than willing.

She greeted them eagerly and headed towards the sports chair that sat ready for her. "Right then, let's get to it shall we? What are we doing today?"

"We were about to have a scrimmage. We've got an uneven number of players though so if you'd like to join one of the teams that'd be great."

"Cool, who am I with?"

"Mary's team's a player short... Neil, grab her a green tabard will you. Mary, you got Avery, that ok?"

Mary was already pushing herself forward, 5 other players in tow. They all looked delighted at what had happened. As Avery was strapped into the waiting sports chair and slid on the tabard, she reached out and started shaking hands.

"Ok, I'm on with John, Roger, Diane and Lisa at first but I'll be swapping Roger out in a few minutes to give others a run. We'll be doing that throughout. You ok coming on then?"

"You got it, chief," said Avery with a grin. She knew she'd have a bit role, but that was fine. She was here to encourage, not to star. Center place was no longer hers and she felt good being... she chuckled at the thought. Being the mascot almost.

Avery rolled to the benches while the teams got back to their game. She clapped hard shouting encouragement as she drank in every move, every twist, every pass, block and shot. She was vaguely aware of Neil briefly trying to talk to her, but he gave up quickly. The game had taken hold of her, it was all she knew--it was where she belonged. She wasn't deliberately ignoring him, she was just completely focused.

The game flowed. The teams, and the scores kept pace with each other. She could see there were differences between the players, not just in their style but their ability. One was faster, one stronger, one more agile due to stronger core muscles... but the players knew each other in a way that she hadn't seen on the college court. Their players came and went in under 5 years, and for many of them, college ball was a stepping stone. Here it looked like playing for The Hotwheels was their aim and they'd known each other much longer. Avery loved it.

"You're on!"

She'd barely heard the whistle blow, but suddenly one of the guys she didn't know yet was leaving the court and making way for her. She rolled across the court, looking towards Mary for instruction. Mary nodded to the right side of the court but didn't say anything. Raising a finger in acknowledgment, Avery made her way to the far side. She got it - she hadn't worked out with the team, she hadn't even been here since the disastrous evening with Neil. They weren't expecting her to know their drills, to move as part of the team. They were relying on her to be something new and unexpected. It was her job to unsettle their opponents.

The whistle blew and the game was on. Mary had the ball and looked around for someone to play it to. One bounce and it was with one of the guys. Avery moved forward, pulling one of the opposition with her. She might not be a wheelchair player, nor even have the fitness that the team did, but she'd learned to watch every play and every player from her college coach, and she had proven a natural at reading the team.

Mary was moving forward and received the ball once more. She bounced it and turned, looking for who was open. The opponents were guarding well. The woman Mary called Diane, was the best target. She was in the two point zone and ready to shoot. But she was tightly marked by a someone from the other team.

Avery pulled wide and cried out suddenly. "Open!"

She wasn't, it was a lie, but the woman marking Diane spun at the sudden cry, apparently concerned that a famous college baller might just have adapted well to the wheelchair game. Mary grinned as she saw Diane was suddenly open and tossed the ball to her. A second later it dropped clean through the hoop.

The woman who'd been marking her glared at Avery. Avery nodded back at her and grinned. She wouldn't insult her, of course. She'd learned poor sportsmanship could get you penalized. But the grin was enough to say "You fell for it."

After that the game moved fast for a time. Avery was involved in two shots - one she missed and the other she set up for Mary. They were pulling ahead, if not by much. She was loving every moment of it and surprised at how well she was handling the chair. She still was a class below the others - they had vastly more experience - but she hadn't moved this freely since the wreck.

John set her up for another shot. She pivoted, eyed the hoop and let the ball fly. She cheered loudly as it went through the hoop, rattling the net on the way down. She'd taken it from the three-point zone and her team cheered her.

Behind her rubber squealed on the wooden floor. A curse passed someone's lips.

SLAM!

The world lurched and tipped before her vision. The ground rushed at her as her chair tipped over. Reflexively, she put her hands out to cushion her fall, but still she hit hard. She cried out as her hand bent awkwardly. She'd avoided major injury but she could feel the sprain already. The adrenaline kept the throbbing to a minimum, but it was going to hurt when the moment passed.

As Frank blew his whistle she looked around to see what had happened. The woman she'd deceived before was next to her, sneering as she pushed her hair from her face.

"What the hell, Julie?!" demanded Frank. "What did you think you were doing?"

She shrugged. "Oops!" She couldn't have sounded less sincere if she'd tried.

Avery grimaced as she tried to push herself upright. Neil was there, trying to help. At first she tried to wave him away and attempted to right herself. She wouldn't lose face in front of someone who'd fouled her. But the slightest attempt told her the sprain was not going to let her do that. She asked him to help and thanked him as he did so.

Neil produced some tape from a pocket. Either he'd brought it with him to the court or he'd grabbed it from the bench. He braced her hand gently, wrapped the wrist in a quick figure-eight. It stung, but it held. She was surprised to find he had almost as good a knack for doing this as her old college physio.

"Get out!" snapped Frank. "I've got no time for thugs on this team!"

Avery shook her head. "Frank, it's ok, she's just overcompetitive. She's a great player. Probably one of your best from what I've seen. I'm ok."

Mary gave her a stunned look. "Overcompetitive?" Her gaze flicked towards Neil briefly. "You haven't noticed, have you?"

"Noticed what?"

"She's not over competitive. She's jealous. She's had a thing for Neil for two years now."

"Wait what?" Avery stared at her. "Are you saying that wasn't about the game? A little revenge?"

"Not in the least."

She stared at Julie. "Are you some kind of idiot? I was never a threat where he's concerned. We're not together. He's just my aide. But I'm pretty sure he's never gonna be interested in someone who pulls stupid shit like that!"

She reached for her wheels to swivel the chair and cursed as pain flared through her right wrist. Neil was beside her in a second, trying to check whether she was okay. She held up her hand, gasping as she resisted the urge to cry out.

"I'm fine," she lied, shrugging when she saw the look he gave her. She flexed her wrist to test its mobility and steeled herself against the shards that seemed to shoot through her hand. "Well, maybe not 'fine' exactly. I've probably sprained it. But if you're going to suggest going home or to a doctor or something, don't. There's a game on and I can at least watch from the sidelines."

Neil frowned and gave her a concerned scowl. "Well, as long as you're not taking part in the game. Let me just get you over to the bleachers."

Avery laughed softly and pulled a face at him. "Yes, daddy!"

Neil snorted at that. His uncle looked between them both, uncertain for a moment before shaking his head and laughing too. As Julie closed the door behind her, ignored by the entire team after her assault, the pressure broke. Neil helped Avery move to the bleachers and Frank blew his whistle to restart the game.

"Come on, Tabards, let's go!" Avery yelled, clapping her hands loudly to encourage her team. "Ah, shit!" she cried, nursing her wrist. "I forgot."

Neil suppressed a chuckle as he stared at her. It was delightful to see how much she was into this - playing or watching didn't matter. She was home and he was proud that he'd played some small part in helping her get there.

The game flowed well, with the teams once again reading each other's intentions. With Avery gone there were just a group of people who'd spent years getting to know one another. And as the scores slowly climbed, the slight distance Avery had helped to open remained fixed.

"Frank, do you see how Mary always runs from left to middle. It's telegraphed! She's not a bad player, but she's too predictable," Avery said at one point.

"And that guy... John... His passing game's great, and he's slick when getting open. But he always passes, never shoots."

Frank nodded to each comment, not speaking at first as he watched her. Avery knew the game better than he did, and it was as obvious to him as it should have been to her. He glanced at the clock and stood to call an end to the penultimate quarter. As the teams gathered around him he looked from them, to Avery and back again.

"What are you planning, Uncle Frank?" asked Neil. "I know that look."

Frank nodded. "Sure, I had a thought. Avery, we've got one quarter left. We're only gonna run for another 5-10 minutes. But I want you to lead the Tabards and I'll lead the Shirts team."

Avery stared at the floor in front of her and failed to see it. What had he just said? Her heart pounded as the weight of it fell in on her. He wanted her to lead one of the teams? She'd never coached in her life before and even if it was for just 10 minutes or less she wasn't skilled like that. He couldn't be serious.

"What did you just say?" she asked, shaking.

"I want you to coach the Tabards team. Come on, Shirts, we'll move down here so they can't overhear our plans."

Avery stared at him as he stood and led his team down to the far side of the bleachers. She shook her head slowly. What was he thinking? She was a player, not a coach. Had been at least. And he wanted her to... direct things? Not even the regular basketball she'd come to know but the wheelchair game? She couldn't.

"So what's the plan, Coach?"

She blinked at the question and slowly turned from one player to the next. Blood thundered in her ears. She'd come to help, but not this. She could be a mascot. She could be a wild card. But deciding the game plan for the whole team? It was impossible.

"Coach?"

And if she refused she'd let her team down. Shit. She took a deep breath and let it out in a slow whistle.

"Okay," she said. "Here's what we're gonna do. Mary, you're going to slide over to the right side. John, get to the rim and shoot. Don't lay it off to your teammates"

She was already getting deeply questioning looks from the team. She raised her hand to interrupt any objections.

"I know, that's not what you normally do. It's not what you're used to doing and you feel uncomfortable with it. Well, THEY know it's not what you do too. Yes, it's going to seem hard to you to break your rhythm, but you'll trip them up too. You're all reading each other so well, I'm guessing you've been playing together for years."

Mary laughed and nodded at one of the opposing team. "Sandy joined us last," she says, "two years ago."

Avery allowed herself a smile. She'd been right, this was a team that knew each other perfectly. But that was also the problem. They were set in a rut and inflexibility would ruin them at a truly competitive tournament.

"Exactly! You'll still be able to read them, though Mary's going to have to adjust her thinking some because she's on the opposite side now." She paused and looked at one of the guys on the team. "I'm really sorry, I haven't been coming long enough to know you all. I've forgotten your name."

He was stocky, edging towards chubby. But despite any weight issues, he was strong and fast. He lacked the agility of a smaller player, and she suspected part of that was a greater loss of core strength, but he was good.

"It's fine. I'm Mike."

She nodded. "Mike, got it. Take Mary's old lane and seal early. Reckon you can handle that?"

He nodded. "I used to play there anyhow."

"Good. Now, I know this is gonna be tricky. But I know you can do it. And there's another reason I want you practicing a different routine - we've got the tournament coming up. If we're ready to switch and change we can adapt. We'll have a much better chance. So go show me what you can do."

She put her good hand into the circle and grinned as one by one the others joined her. "TABARDS!" she yelled as the whistle blew.

The team struggled to adapt to the new instructions. She wasn't surprised, it was a major change to the way several of them were used to playing. But that was the point. It was ok to risk a scrimmage to get people out of a rut, and that would make them more fluid when it mattered. They weren't the only ones struggling though. Frank's team weren't used to the new setup either and if anything it showed more with them. Avery cheered loudly as John hit a two-pointer.

Then the ball was moving in the other direction. Mary moved quick. Seemingly freed by her new position, she pressed the ball-carrier, forcing him into an error. Roger grabbed the loose ball and swivelled to go on the attack.

Frank turned to look at Avery, his face showing as much respect as it did frustration. This attack didn't score, as John's shot bounced off the backboard and back towards a Shirts player. And before her team could stop them, the opponents netted 3 points. It was a good play she reflected.

Avery shouted her encouragement as the game moved back and forth, mostly just general cheers, but at times direct instructions. She was surprised to find it worked. There wasn't much between the teams, but with her cries the Tabards slowly extended the lead. When Frank blew the final whistle, the score was 67-54. She punched the air cheering and the Tabards cheered too. They moved as one towards her, slapping her on the back in celebration.

"So," said Frank, "You'll be joining me as a coach from now on, right?"

Avery bowed her head and closed her eyes, pausing to allow herself to feel the excitement and fear and passion for the game in its fullness. She couldn't believe she was about to say what she was.

"Yes... if that's ok?"