My Life as a Cartoonist (28 page)

Umberto beats us, but not by much. We take turns pushing Umberto back up the hill. Matt and I slalom around Umberto's wheelchair as we take another run.

As we head to the van later, both Matt and I have to admit being with Umberto pushed us to ride as fast as we ever have.

“Just because my mobility is impaired doesn't mean I can't kick your butts,” Umberto gloats. “You should see me play basketball.”

We grab ice pops from the freezer and sit on the curb waiting for Bill's van. I gather up the courage to ask Umberto about his physical challenges.

“I have a spinal birth defect,” he says. “I got used to being in a chair a long time ago.”

“That stinks,” I say.

Matt nods in agreement.

Umberto shrugs. “That's just the way it is.”

There's no arguing with Umberto on that, but his honesty and grace make me like him even more.

When Bill pulls up, Umberto gets in the van and waves good-bye.

As we watch the van drive away, Matt reaches down for his board. “I like him,” he says. “And he's certainly fast in that chair. But I'm still not sure I trust him.”

I understand Matt's feelings, but I also know that friendships don't work without trust and I don't want to be the person to sabotage a potentially good one. So I decide to put my faith in Umberto and see what happens.

My Best Idea, Hands Down

Bodi's on the mend from his seizure and I can finally relax. My mother has the Bodi Is Getting Old conversation with me at dinner, which makes me start to cry into my fried rice. I know Bodi's old, I know this was a close call, but can I just enjoy Bodi a little while longer?
Sheesh, Mom.
Let me eat in peace.

After hanging out with Umberto for a few weeks, I come to appreciate some of his good qualities. Despite all the evidence when we first met, it turns out Umberto takes his friendships seriously, almost as much as Carly and Matt do. He helps me with our English assignments and recommends books at my reading level that don't seem babyish. He even gives me tips on my lettering. In exchange, I give him some pointers I've learned from Dad and let him come over to sketch Dad's mannequins.

But my most innovative idea comes while Matt and I take a surfing lesson with Heinz. As he finds us boards and booties in his messy truck, I scan some brochures shoved in a box behind the driver's seat. And just like that, I get an amazing idea. (Turns out my last one—training Frank to be Umberto's companion—wasn't a great idea after all. Umberto did enjoy meeting Frank but admitted he wouldn't want a capuchin for a helper. I guess monkey companions aren't for everyone.)

My new idea is a thousand times better, taking several weeks to put into action. The plan is so complex, I even have to run it by Umberto's mother when I meet her at his house one Sunday afternoon. Her eyes light up when I tell her what I have in mind. She tells me to count her in, which I take as a sign that this idea might actually be one of my better ones.

As expected, Carly has a million suggestions, most of which are excellent.

*   *   *

On the day of Operation Umberto, Carly, Matt, and I watch the van drive down Bay Street in Santa Monica. Umberto's mom, his brother Eduardo, and Bill wait as Umberto's chair lowers to the pavement.

“What is this?” Umberto asks. “Some kind of surprise party?”

“You could say that.” I get behind his chair and push him toward the parking lot, where Heinz wears his perpetual grin and wetsuit. He rummages through his truck and throws Umberto a suit.

Umberto looks up, confused.

“If you're going surfing, you need a wetsuit. That water's cold,” Heinz says.

Umberto still can't understand what's going on.

I hold out one of Heinz's brochures from Access Sports. On the cover, there's a photo of Heinz surfing with a kid with physical challenges on the front of his board.

Umberto seems afraid. “I can't do this,” he says. “What if I fall off? I can't swim, never mind surf!”

“Heinz will be out there with you,” I say. “Plus, you'll have this.” I toss him a life jacket from Heinz's truck.

Umberto holds up the wetsuit. “I'm not even sure I can get this on.”

Heinz, Matt, and I surround Umberto's wheelchair and hold up beach towels, making a privacy screen for him to change behind.

“It's like putting on a pair of pants at home,” Eduardo says. “Two seconds, come on.”

Carly and Umberto's mother move to the front of the truck while Matt, Heinz, and I keep our towels up until Eduardo whisks them down like a magician. Umberto sits in his chair, wearing the wetsuit.

He grins from ear to ear until he looks toward the water and the large expanse of sand. “My chair's not going to go on that. You guys will have to carry me.”

“Who do you think you are, Cleopatra?” his brother asks. “You'll have to get yourself down there.”

“In this.” Carly comes around from the front of the truck pushing a wheelchair with giant yellow wheels as thick as tire tubes.

Eduardo helps guide Umberto from his regular chair into the new one.

“We use these at Access Sports,” Heinz says. “They're not fast, but you can definitely ride on the beach.”

Umberto's already out of the parking lot, cruising down the boardwalk. When I catch a glimpse of his mother, I see she has tears in her eyes. When she notices me looking at her, she wipes her cheeks with her hands. “Umberto hasn't been to the ocean in years,” she says. “He used to love the beach as a baby.”

The new wheelchair gets stuck a few times, but Umberto manages to keep going. Like some kind of beach procession, the rest of us follow him down to the water's edge. Heinz has him sit forward in the chair while he adjusts the life jacket.

Heinz explains they're going to paddle out together on his longboard. “We'll wait for just the right wave, then I'm going to stand on the back of the board and you're going to lie across the front.”