“It’s the first day of spring,” Logan stated, his eyes pointed to the blue canvas overhead. His hands pushed him along; he had lost the function of his legs in a car accident five years prior. But he had adjusted well. It was still something he and his family struggled with, but they all seemed to just ignore the blatant fact that Logan couldn’t walk.

“Yeah,” Mary said, Logan’s best friend. She glanced over at him, semi forcing a smile, and tried her hardest to ignore his wheelchair. They had been friends since grade school, and now, at eighteen a piece, they had still managed to keep their friendship alive.

There was a period of time when Mary had fallen for Logan, and fallen hard. But ever since what they referred to as “The Big A,” those feelings had long since dissipated. Logan hadn’t changed at all, not at the very heart of it, but Mary’s opinion of him had.

Logan felt Mary’s eyes staring at his legs, weak and stagnant. He had gotten used to it. Though Mary had been kind and seemingly compassionate, Logan knew what was going inside her head. He knew her too well. He wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing or a good thing just yet.

“Do you think it’ll get cold again?” he asked, turning his eyes forward.

“I hope not,” she replied quietly. She was holding her books tight to her body, gripping the edges until her knuckles turned white. And Logan knew it without seeing it.

“We’re almost at school,” Logan commented. Mary only nodded in response. The two of them lived less than a mile from their school. Only two blocks, really. Before “The Big A,” Logan and Mary would walk together. Now, Logan rolled while Mary walked. It seemed like Mary was the only one who really noticed.

They entered the parking lot, large and circular, and waved to a few friends. It was the first day back after Easter vacation. Mary looked over at Logan, biting her lip.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Sure.” Logan was never one to really complain. People offered him help but weren’t really asking. Maybe they felt that Logan was one of the “less fortunate” and by helping him, they’d be saved from their sins. He wasn’t entirely sure. But he didn’t enjoy feeling like everyone’s key into Heaven.

Mary looked at him once before running over to a few of her friends that were some yards away. Logan watched her as he continued to push himself along and saw how she never once looked back.

“Sorry about this morning,” Mary apologized as they walked towards the cafeteria. Logan was used to her leaving by now, and was used to the apologies she spit out whenever she came back.

“Don’t be sorry,” Logan said, not looking over at her. “You don’t have to keep a constant watch over me.” He was non-chalant about the entire thing. “Don’t feel obligated. Just because I can’t walk doesn’t mean I can’t get around.”

Mary looked at him with a mixture of being insulted and feeling guilty. But her eyes quickly averted to the floor. She nodded faintly and kept her eyes on the ground.

Logan didn’t normally speak up like that, but he was sick of staying quiet. He would normally just smile gratefully at people who saw him as their salvation, but he was finally fed up. But he supposed that he understood her need to make up for things.

“Listen, I don’t blame you. I really and honestly don’t.” Logan looked at her, but glanced forward every now and then to ensure he wouldn’t barrel into anything. “I’ve forgiven you,” he said, his voice sincere. “It’s time you’ve forgiven yourself.”

Mary’s eyes were welled with tears. Her lip was quivering, and she bit it to keep it steady. She blinked incessantly in an attempt to scare them away. One managed to fall from her eye, and shattered on the tile ground. And Logan knew it. But he felt it was better to just let it go.

They entered the cafeteria and Logan felt the eyes burn into his skin. With a sigh, he rolled past the table of self-declared Christians who were trying to make up for their lives of cruelty. Logan remembered when they tormented him, called him cripple, and pretended to be in wheelchairs. And now? Well, now they were just …

“Hey Logan!” one of them called out as he ran over. “Do you need any help? Anything I can get for you? Want to sit with us?”

“No, no, I think I’m good.” Logan smiled pleasantly, as always. “But thanks.” The kid nodded with a grin that would petrify a three-year-old. He ran back to his table, and the entire group watched Logan roll past them.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Mary asked, her emotional moment now gone.

“Yeah, I guess,” Logan replied. “But they have a bigger handicap than I do.” He looked over at her, the traces of a smile hinting on his lips. “Their eyes are open, but they’re all blind.”