One month ago, Samantha Freeman's father broke the exciting news that he had been moved to another bank in another city. When he told the family, Samantha slouched in disbelief.

She knew this moment should be a time for rejoicing. A new beginning. An exciting experience. Instead, her brown eyes, usually sparkling and dancing with joy, clouded with tears.

As their blue sedan pulled up the long driveway to Samantha's new school, her eyes widened at the beauty around her. Maple trees with blazing orange and fiery red leaves stood straight and tall. They looked like brave soldiers guarding a fortress, which was a worn and tired brick building in need of some repair.

The car stopped, and Samantha's father gently carried her into the school. Her mother was a slight step behind, pushing Samantha's wheelchair. The hallways had an eerie silence in the early morning. The school awaited the hustle of the day.

For most eleven-year-old children, the thought of starting at a new school both frightens and excites them. Samantha was no different than most. She sat in her wheelchair with a flushed face as her fingers fidgeted.

Samantha felt so alone and overcome with a terrifying sense of being different. Like she was some strange being from another world—someone who really didn't belong.

Gazing out the window, her mind wandered back home to the security of friends who accepted her. Samantha remembered watching her friends bolt from their houses. They ran furiously towards the yellow school bus approaching their block. She envied them.

They didn't need someone to carry them off the bus. They didn't need someone to help them dress. They could jump, skip, run, and walk. Samantha could only dream. 

She was three years old when the accident happened. It only took a split second. When her mother opened the front door, Samantha darted out between two parked cars and into the street.

She vaguely remembered the body cast. But she clearly remembered the wheelchair that became her way of moving for the rest of her life.  

Samantha was always a determined, feisty little girl. She loved exploring what the world had to offer. Years ago, Samantha decided that a wheelchair would not define who she was, who she would become, or how far she could go.

A bell sounded out in the hallway, snapping Samantha out of her thoughts. Children charged into the classroom, claiming their seats while chatting about the day's events. Samantha watched from her corner at the back of the room, wondering how she would ever make friends.

Mrs. Gray, Samantha's teacher, glanced back at her with a smile. “Class, settle down. I want to introduce our new student, Samantha Freeman,” she eagerly announced. Suddenly, twenty-five pairs of curious eyes turned Samantha's way. Some students whispered to each other.

Samantha just knew they wouldn't accept her. I'm an outsider—a crippled one at that. But how could she think this way? This new, fearful girl was not the old, strong-willed Samantha.

Since the accident, Samantha's parents treated her as normally as possible. They wanted her to fit in without feeling inadequate. They wanted her to be independent. Samantha usually faced all situations with an open mind. Now, she sat suddenly feeling sorry for herself.

“I'll give them a chance,” Samantha whispered under her breath. Then, she proudly wheeled her chair to the middle of the classroom.

But day one turned out to be an utter disaster.