“Ready?”
“Always.”
Denise moved behind the chair.
Jordan rolled forward.
His front wheels touched the beginning of the ramp.
And then a voice cut across the sidewalk.
“Stop.”
Jordan looked up.
A woman was standing near the curb.
She had a blonde bob.
A pale-pink blazer.
White blouse.
Beige pants.
A clipboard tucked against one arm.
She looked completely out of place among the students.
But everyone in the neighborhood knew her.
Victoria Whitmore.
President of the Westbrook Estates Homeowners Association.
She lived in the upscale subdivision behind the school.
She had built a reputation for knowing every rule in the community.
Which trash cans could remain outside.
How tall hedges could grow.
What color curtains were visible from the street.
Which basketball hoops were allowed.
Which vehicles could park overnight.
And, apparently, who she believed belonged on a school bus.
Jordan didn't know why she was there.
Denise did.
Her expression changed immediately.
“Ms. Whitmore?”
Victoria walked toward the ramp.
“I need to speak with the driver.”
Mr. Franklin frowned.
“About what?”
“This bus.”
“What about it?”
Victoria glanced at Jordan.
Then at the wheelchair.
Then back at the driver.
“The loading procedure is taking too long.”
Denise stepped closer.
“It's a wheelchair-accessible bus.”
“I can see that.”
“Then you know the ramp is supposed to be used.”
Victoria ignored her.
She stepped directly onto the bottom of the ramp.
Jordan stopped.
The chair's front wheels were inches away from her shoes.
Denise immediately placed both hands on the chair.
“Please move.”
Victoria planted one hand on the railing.
“No.”
Jordan looked at her.
Victoria looked down at him.
“This bus is leaving.”
Jordan's face tightened.
“I'm supposed to be on it.”
Victoria lifted her clipboard.
“Not if you're going to delay everyone.”
Denise stepped forward.
“Excuse me?”
Victoria turned toward her.
“You heard me.”
“He has every right to board.”
Victoria shook her head.
“This isn't about rights.”
“It certainly sounds like it is.”
“This bus has a schedule.”
“And he's part of the schedule.”
Victoria sighed.
She looked at Jordan again.
Then she struck the clipboard against the metal ramp.
The sharp sound echoed.
“Move him.”
Jordan flinched.
Denise's jaw tightened.
Victoria pointed toward the wheelchair.
“This bus is leaving, and I'm not delaying everyone for one wheelchair.”
The sentence hung in the air.
Students nearby stopped walking.
Several turned.
Someone lowered a phone.
Another student whispered.
“Did she really just say that?”
Jordan stared at the ramp.
His hands rested on the wheels.
He could feel the heat rising in his face.
He had heard cruel comments before.
He had been called names.
He had been stared at.
He had been excluded from things.
But this was different.
Because she wasn't a stranger.
She was an adult standing at the entrance of a school bus, physically blocking him from boarding.
And everyone could see it.