Wheelchair Roulette

  When I was ten, I lost my marbles - and my wheelchair. I came home one evening after playing with my friends. I hoped my mom wouldn't remember that I'd taken my wheelchair out, as I often did when the walk was far, but it had been an unlucky day for me.

"Where is your wheelchair?" she asked.

"I lost it in a bet," I said, trying not to sound as scared as I felt.

"Excuse me?" my mom said.

"I was playing marbles," I lowered my gaze.

  Recently, the kids in my area had become addicted to playing marbles. My brother taught me how to play, but I had a hard time beating him.

"Don't get frustrated," he told me after I'd lost some of my allowance to him. "I'm just a pro. You need to find people less experienced, that you can beat."

  So I began playing my friends, even teaching some, and soon I had a beautiful collection of marbles I'd won in games.

  As kids, we were taught that gambling was a sin. That included making bets.

"Betting is a pathway to gambling, and gambling is a sin," my mother chanted. "You start gambling with the small things and soon you lose everything God gave you."

  I should have headed those words, but I had a weakness for the colorful, little glass orbs that rolled smoothly across a hardwood floor. The satisfaction of aiming one swift pawn marble at my target acquisition and hearing the little click that knocked it from the protective circle and into my silk pouch, where I kept at least a hundred other marbles, made me giddy with anticipation.

  Tonight, I lost almost all of my favorites. I didn't want to bet anymore of them out of fear that I'd have nothing left. In a desperate attempt to get at least one or two back I pleaded with my friend,

"Can't we bet something other than my last marbles?"

"Okay," she said, "We can bet your wheelchair."

  I thought about it. I knew my parents would be livid if I lost, but I really wanted my prized collection back.

"Fine," I sighed, "but you can't keep it. My mom won't let you. You can borrow it for a week."

"Deal," my friend agreed.

  The game was short and when it was over I went home without my marbles or my wheels.

"Whose house did you leave it at?" My mom asked and I told her.

"You stay put. I'm gonna go get your wheelchair," Mom said and left.

  It was sometime before my mom returned and when she wheeled my wheelchair into the bedroom she asked me for the silk pouch where I kept my remaining marbles.

"You're done playing with these for awhile," she said. "Do you want to know where I found your wheelchair?"

"Where?" I asked, confused.

"Apparently, your friend decided to bet your wheelchair in one of her games. I had to go two blocks away and the boys who had it, left it outside. You can consider yourself grounded for the next two weeks and if you do any betting again, I'll help you out and give away all of your toys." She stormed out of the room.

  A little while later my brother came in my room.

"Wow, I heard what happened. Do you want me to give you some of my marbles?" he offered.

"No, mom said she'd give away all of my stuff if she caught me betting again. You should probably stop too. I know she only said that to me, but I'm pretty sure she means you also, and she will catch you," I warned. My brother grinned.

"Wanna bet?"