AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This chapter makes some references to Chapter 10 of my original story "Sibling Rivalry", so if you haven't read that story yet (or need a refresh), head over there first! Seb gets a little bit of the disability education he's been lacking. With that being said, I hope you enjoy the longest chapter in this story so far!

Chapter 11: Anything You Can Do

ARTIE

"Sounds good to me," Artie said about Griffin's mention of mini golf. They'd been loitering outside of the batting cage, held up talking as Griffin had recalled memories from Indians games when they were kids.

"Let's go return these–" (Artie gestured to the batting helmet that was currently sitting in his lap and the bat that Griffin was currently leaning against) "– and then we can head around to the other side of the building. For the record, Seb, I'm pretty damn good at mini golf too, so you might wanna watch out."

Artie and Sebastian shared a smile at that. Artie liked the feeling that the tension between himself and Sebastian had been easing. He liked that they could joke around with and tease one another now. He was really starting to begin to see Sebastian as his brother, and that was pretty exciting. Though Griffin was right– there was still a lot that Sebastian needed to learn.

Ella and Sebastian stood up from where they'd been sitting on the bench and joined Artie and Griffin in heading back up the sidewalk toward the clubhouse. The path they were following was uphill, and as Artie leaned forward in his seat to give himself some momentum, he suddenly felt the task become exponentially easier. He looked over his shoulder in alarm to find that Sebastian had taken hold of the chair's handles, probably figuring he'd step in and lend a helping hand. Little did he know that Artie didn't need or want that.

"Whoa, okay, first off, if you're going to be around for the long haul, we're gonna have to lay down some ground rules. Rule number one: don't touch the chair," Artie warned. "Hands off, I mean it. I'm not some helpless baby in a stroller, I don't need to be pushed."

"You got it, chief," Sebastian said, releasing his grip on the chair and holding his hands up. Artie instantly doubled down on his pushing in order to keep up with his siblings as they headed up the incline.

"I still have a few more years until I get a new chair, but I'm gonna ditch the handles next time," Artie said, shaking his head. "I don't like when people use them, and all they do is give people the wrong idea. These stupid armrests are going too."

"Keep the light-up casters though?" Ella asked hopefully, and Artie smirked, nodding his head.

"Those stay."

When they made it to the front desk, they returned the bat and batting helmet they had borrowed and paid for a round of mini golf for the four of them. Heading back outside, they were met with the sight of the mini golf course, sprawled across a large area of the land.

Like many mini golf courses, this one had copious amounts of stairs that led from one hole to another, up and down hills, and around various other geographic landforms. But unlike most others, this one also had carefully planned, aesthetically-pleasing ramps that sloped at gentle inclines next to the stairs, making the experience that much easier and more enjoyable for Artie. It was clear that accessibility hadn't been an afterthought during the course's construction; it was a priority. Artie knew that Griffin had chosen this location for this exact reason, and that led him straight into the conversation Griffin had mentioned wanting to have with Sebastian.

"The world feels pretty accessible right?" Artie asked Sebastian, glancing up and shielding his eyes from the sun. They had approached the first hole and were waiting for their turns as Ella set up her hot pink golf ball on the green and lined her putter up next to it. "You know, with all of the elevators and ramps and curb cutouts everywhere?"

Sebastian nodded. "Yeah, sure."

That's what Artie had been expecting him to say. He knew that it was hard for people who hadn't grown up needing those accommodations to realize how important they are– or how they're not actually as prevalent as they seem.

"Well, those things– the elevators and the ramps and whatnot– aren't there because folks are thinking of disabled people and want them to be able to do everything they want to do," Artie informed him of the brutal truth.

Sebastian looked surprised again. "Really?"

"Hell no," Artie laughed. "That would be nice, though. But those things are there because it's the law. If businesses wouldn't get a hefty fine for ignoring it, I don't know how many places I'd be able to go to."

Sebastian looked pensive again as he left Artie's side to go up and take his turn, chewing on his bottom lip as he set up his green golf ball. Artie watched as he shifted his feet ever so slightly and looked up at the location of the hole before gently bringing his arms back and bringing them forward, tapping the golf ball perfectly and earning him a hole-in-one.

Griffin whistled at Sebastian's shot. "You're a much better golfer than you are a baseball player."

Sebastian smirked politely at Griffin, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere.

Artie's turn was next, so he and Seb exchanged places and Artie dropped his neon blue ball in front of him, using his club to poke it around on the green until it was positioned right where he wanted it to be. He took a few practice swings, getting the feel for it again before rolling forward and locking his wheels in place. Golf truly was an enjoyable sport for Artie, as it was easy for him to play it from where he sat in his chair, with a few modifications here and there. Artie took his shot, and his ball fell just short of the hole; closer than Ella's but no match for Seb's hole-in-one.

Artie returned to Sebastian's side as Griff went up to have his first turn. Artie couldn't help himself from glancing up at his (super tall) soon-to-be step-brother, finding the same expression still plastered on his face. One that showed that he was deep in thought.

"That's really messed up," He finally spoke, and Artie looked up at him again.

"Huh?"

"That places and businesses only care about accessibility because the law forces them to," Sebastian said, making eye contact with him now. "You should… you should be able to go wherever you want to go without worrying about any of that. That's not fair."

"Oh. Yeah." Artie tried not to look as surprised as he was at Sebastian's sudden outlook change. "I mean, I don't wish to be able-bodied, but I do wish that I still had the privilege of easy access from when I was."

"People fought for that, you know," Ella cut in, evidently eavesdropping on Sebastian and Artie's conversation, as Griffin took his turn at the tee. His ball came to rest just a few inches away from the hole. "For laws to be passed to make places accessible. Discrimination against disabled people– that's a civil rights violation. But it wasn't recognized as such until the early nineties."

"Truth," Artie agreed, warmed by his wise little sister's comment. "Hundreds of disabled people around the country took part in a sit-in protest in the seventies to get Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act signed into law, which essentially said that no program receiving federal funds could discriminate against a person with a disability."

"Without 504, the ADA may not have been signed some years later, which was what finally prohibited discrimination against people with disabilities and imposed accessibility requirements on public spaces," Griffin supplied.

Artie knew that his siblings had extensive knowledge of their own about the disability rights movement, but to hear them now helping to explain it all to Sebastian, instilled a sense of pride in Artie that he wasn't expecting. Most able-bodied people didn't know anything about those historical events, but his siblings were not included in that statistic.

Sebastian continued to soak up the little impromptu history lesson the Abrams kids were giving.

"One of the protests that was vital in getting the ADA signed was the Capitol Crawl, which was when disabled protestors set their mobility aids aside and literally crawled up all eighty-three of the steps in front of the United States Capitol building," Artie said, jumping in and taking over the conversation again. "It was a physical demonstration of how the inaccessibility of public spaces impacts people with disabilities and showed how urgent the passing of this act was."

It was Artie's turn to play again, and this time he didn't need to take any practice swings before effortlessly knocking the ball in. A hole-in-two wasn't ideal, but he'd take it.

"That story always gives me chills. Because I can't imagine being brave enough… being vulnerable enough… to, you know, ditch my chair for something like that." Artie said this as he set his club on his lap and unlocked his brakes, rolling backward to be out of Griffin's way. "But it's because of those demonstrators that I don't have to imagine a world where I'd be forced to leave my chair and drag myself up a flight of stairs to access a federal building. I owe the rights and abilities that I have today to those fearless people who stepped up– or wheeled up, or whatever–" (Artie laughed at his bad joke.) "–against those injustices."

Artie knew that his spiel was long-winded, but he also knew that he was passionate. Passionate about these stories, about these trailblazers who fought for rights for themselves and future generations of disabled people. This was a history lesson Sebastian hadn't asked for directly, but Artie wasn't sorry he was giving it. And if Sebastian minded, he didn't show it.

"You all sure know a lot about this stuff, huh?" Sebastian observed, appearing to be somewhat impressed. He'd been quietly listening up until now, just absorbing everything that the Abrams siblings had shared.

"Well, it's my history. And my mom made sure that Ella, Griff, and I learned it. Because this isn't the stuff they teach you in history books," Artie replied. "I'm just lucky that I was born– that I became disabled– after the ADA had already been signed. Or else the inconveniences that I experience daily would be a lot worse."

"So, you mean that after all of those protests, those laws didn't even fix everything?" Sebastian clarified, dumbfounded.

"Imagine if it were that easy," Ella commented, shaking her head as Artie tried to hide his amused smirk.

"Yeah, no," Artie laughed despite himself. "That's hardly the case. Just last weekend, I went with Sam and Quinn to get lunch, and the restaurant Quinn had chosen had this massive step to get inside. Sam went in and asked if they had an accessible entrance we could use, but they didn't. And, of course, I didn't want to make a big scene and draw even more attention to myself, so I just let Sam and Quinn help. And believe me, there's nothing more humbling than having your most conventionally attractive friends carry your wheelchair into a restaurant like it's some sort of chariot."

Sebastian winced, undoubtedly imagining how awkward that situation would have been if he were in Artie's shoes.

"Don't get me wrong, I know that I'm lucky I have these awesome friends that don't mind helping me out when I need it, but the point is that they shouldn't have to help me out. Because, damn, would it be nice to be able to just go get a sandwich with my friends without being gawked at like some kind of freak." Artie rolled his eyes.

"Don't forget about when the places that are supposed to provide you with certain accommodations just ignore them," Griffin chimed in. "Like, when the school refused to put up the money for a bus with a lift before that Glee Club competition, so you guys had to hold a bake sale? They wanted you to ride by yourself with Dad while everyone else was on the bus together! Equity, my ass!"

"Yeah, that didn't feel… great," Artie acknowledged. "To be alienated from the rest of the team like that. But that's a perfect example of why the ADA and Section 504 are so important! Accessibility is a societal responsibility, but before legislation like Section 504 was passed, responsibility for the consequences of inaccessibility rested only on the shoulders of people with disabilities. Because, like, I can get around most places just fine, but if I can't get around a restaurant because their tables are too close together, that's the restaurant management's fault, not mine, even though I'm the wheelchair user."

Sebastian was listening intently, wearing a face that Artie had never seen before. It was one of interest. He'd always acted 'too cool' to display such emotion. Artie now realized, with the overly vulnerable and personal stories he'd started sharing, he was working past that. Artie was known for rambling on and on about the things he was passionate about, but he wasn't used to people showing that they were interested in what he was saying. It was energizing.

"So because of the ADA, and the way that it was passed– and largely implemented– prior to my lifetime, I've had it relatively easy," Artie went on. He punctuated his point by making a show of the way he was able to just roll right onto the faux green of the next hole.

"I say 'relatively' because, obviously, no place is perfect. The ADA only applies to public spaces, so a lot of buildings are unfairly exempt from having to alter themselves in the spirit of accessibility because they are privately funded and don't receive money from the government– think Dalton Academy," Artie explained. "And a lot of other places are only marginally accessible– they may have a ramp out front, but their bathroom is too small for wheelchairs, or it doesn't have the proper bars on the wall to assist people with mobility issues."

Artie had been down this road enough times before that he was able to anticipate the pitying expression he loathed the most from other people before it even had a chance to happen. It was like a sixth sense he'd developed, and he was beginning to see that look develop on Sebastian's face now, which was the last thing he wanted. He was just being honest by telling him all of this. He didn't want his sympathy. So, in typical Artie fashion, he changed the tone of the conversation almost instantly.

"But look at this place! I can roll right up to the tee! And these ramps– they're not an eyesore or attention-pulling!" Artie knew that those were the words people frequently used when they were opposing the addition of ramps in a public place; as if the fact that they can be ugly should prevent all kinds of people from having fair access to the space. "These ramps are sexy! Aren't they sexy, Seb?"

Sebastian looked properly caught off guard by the absurdity of that question. "I mean… they're… uh…"

The other two couldn't keep themselves from laughing at their brother's hilarious use of the term 'sexy'. Artie grinned right back, pleased that he was able to lighten the mood again.

"Remember when we took that trip to LA? And the accessible playground they had?" Ella asked.

Artie nodded, excitedly. That was one of his favorite childhood memories ever, even if it had happened on the bittersweet last vacation as a family of five before their parents' divorce.

"I got to play on the playground with you, just like any other big brother. How could I forget something like that?"

Los Angeles, California

April 2004

"Can you tell us where we're going already?!" Five-year-old Ella pleaded from the backseat of the family's rental car as they drove through the hills of Los Angeles.

"It's a surprise," Nancy repeated for probably the sixth time from the passenger seat, turning around to face the three kids. "But we'll be there in just a minute. Hang tight."

The Abrams kids were spending their spring break from school in California, as Art's team was playing a series of baseball games in Los Angeles before having the rest of the week off. The Indians didn't have a practice scheduled for that morning, so Art jumped at the opportunity to be able to spend some time with his family.

"Okay, here we are!" Art said as he pulled into one of the many accessible parking spots in the lot.

Griffin, Artie, and Ella all craned their necks to see out the window.

"It's a… park?" Griffin asked, disappointment evident in his voice. At nearly fourteen, playgrounds weren't exactly his idea of a good time.

Artie wouldn't deny that it didn't thrill him all that much either. They were in Hollywood, after all! They'd gone to look at the Walk of Fame yesterday, but Artie had been secretly hoping their surprise was going on a studio tour at Warner Brothers or Paramount or something. Playgrounds had become decidedly less exciting to him in recent years.

"Not just any playground…" Nancy said, unbothered by her kids' less-than-enthused reaction.

"Artie Man, why don't you read what that sign over there says, bud," Art told him.

Artie adjusted his glasses before reading out loud: "Shane's Inspiration Universally Accessible Playground." His heart sped up as he registered what those words meant. He looked between his parents. "Wait, an accessible playground?! Like, wheelchair accessible?"

His mother nodded, and suddenly the idea of spending the afternoon at a playground didn't seem so dreadful after all.

Griffin helped to unbuckle Ella from her car seat and the two of them hurried off together as Art retrieved the pieces of Artie's chair from the trunk and assembled it, bringing it around to the backseat where Artie was waiting.

"Go have some fun today, okay?" His father told him as he locked the wheels in place so the chair wouldn't roll away as Artie was transferring. Artie nodded and effortlessly moved from the car to his chair before pulling his father down into a hug.

Art rubbed Artie's back and neither of them said anything, but Artie knew that he didn't have to thank his family for thinking of accessible ways to have fun. That didn't mean he wasn't grateful, though.

As he rolled along the smooth paved path that led from the parking lot to the playground, he spotted Ella and Griffin at the top of one of the play structures. At a typical playground, Artie would have gone around to the other side and parked himself at the bottom of the slide, waiting for them to come down.

But here, he didn't have to do that.

Here, he could follow them. Artie left the path and rolled over the rubber surfacing that covered the ground, and he immediately noticed how much easier it was for him to maneuver his chair over that as opposed to the woodchips or gravel that the playgrounds he was used to usually had. As he approached the metal ramp that led up to where his siblings were standing, he looked over his shoulder to find his mom and dad sitting together at a picnic table.

"Go on!" Nancy motioned to him, pointing at the structure, just as Ella called, "Artie! Come play with us!"

Nobody had to tell Artie that again. His heart swelled as he leaned forward in his chair and pushed hard enough on his wheels to propel himself up the ramp to join his brother and sister.

The walls lining the ramps were decorated with designs reflecting outer space and the ocean, and there were even little games like tic-tac-toe that he could play with Ella and Griffin. Everything was at a height that he could reach comfortably from his chair, which wasn't something he was accustomed to.

"Wanna slide?" Griffin asked Artie, which made his eyes widen. "Look, it's bouncy at the bottom," Griff explained, pointing out that the ground under the slide was made softer and gentler so that it was safe for all children– but specifically those with mobility challenges– to land. "I'll bring your chair down after, okay?"

"Okay," Artie agreed, excitement fluttering through him like a swarm of butterflies taking flight.

There wasn't a ton of space at the top of the slide, so Griffin positioned himself behind Artie, reaching under his armpits to help him move from his chair to the platform below. Artie arranged his legs out in front of him and gripped the plastic side of the slide, silently counting to three in his head before pushing off and feeling the air in his face for a quick second before reaching the bottom in a fit of giggles.

Artie had heard of accessible playgrounds before but knew that there weren't any within a hundred miles of Lima. What he loved the most about them was that they were built with inclusivity in mind; the needs and desires of both disabled and non-disabled kids were taken into account so that everyone could play harmoniously, side-by-side.

A perfect example of this was the swingset, which Artie noticed as he waited for Griff to bring around his chair. Next to the playscape was a row of swings that had two or three of each style: three 'regular' swings, two baby swings, two large plastic bucket swings with shoulder harnesses for children with disabilities who may need some extra support, and two of the most unique swings Artie had ever seen– they were made of metal, and created so that children who used wheelchairs wouldn't even have to leave their chair in order to swing.

Artie was fascinated by it from afar, and Griffin noticed.

"Hey, Art, wanna go try out that swing?" He asked, his hands on the handles of Artie's chair, holding it in place as Artie completed the floor-to-chair transfer. Artie nodded once he was safely back in his seat, and the three siblings headed that way.

Artie didn't have the best balance anymore and that scared him a bit, which was why he hadn't gone on any sort of swing since before his accident. But he didn't have to worry about his balance in this cool wheelchair swing.

Griffin lowered the small ramp so that Artie could wheel onto the platform. He followed the instructions on how to secure Artie's chair in place just as their parents drifted over to observe.

"Okay, you're all set," Griffin then told him. "Ready for a push?"

Artie took a shaky breath before nodding. As Griffin began to move the swing back and forth, Artie began to remember how much fun swinging was and why he didn't have a reason to be nervous. Despite this, he still gripped the chain until his knuckles were white.

"Look, Artie!" Ella called from where she had begun pumping her legs on one of the regular swings a few spaces away. "I can swing with you!"

Artie grinned. He'd dreamed of this– being a plain old normal kid who wasn't different from anybody else. Just another kid swinging with his little sister. He never wanted this feeling to end.

"Having fun?" Nancy asked once Artie had finally vacated the wheelchair swing to let another child have a turn.

"Why isn't every playground like this?" Artie asked his mother. He couldn't wrap his head around why the people who constructed playgrounds for kids wouldn't want to create a space where every child– regardless of their physical abilities– could enjoy themselves.

"I wish I knew, baby," She sighed, running her fingers through his hair. "One day I hope that will change and that we'll see plenty more playgrounds that will cater to all children."

"Me too," Artie agreed.

That was all that he felt like he could do; hope that the future would be a more accepting, accommodating, and inclusive world for all.

"That day was the first time I'd ever felt almost normal after my accident. I hadn't had that– a safe way to play like other kids– since becoming a para."

Artie was unable to suppress the joy that filled his heart at that memory.

"It seems so simple, like it's something everyone should think of, but it isn't. You'd be surprised by all of the things that people overlook when it comes to disability. Like representation on television and in movies. Not to get back on my soapbox again, but except for that show we used to watch– Pelswick– I never saw a kid in a chair on TV," Artie said. "Everyone consumes media, and even though disabled people are the world's largest minority group, only something like two percent of characters on television have a disability."

This was something that Artie had never vocalized; the way he'd spent his childhood yearning to see himself and his experiences represented on television. He was growing up and coming of age just like every other kid or teenager, but he found it difficult to relate to characters whose lives were so different from his own.

"I… I want to change that for other kids. I don't want any other disabled kid to grow up feeling the way I did. Like nobody sees them. Like they're a side character in somebody else's story. That they're only being included to fill a diversity quota or that the world is only accommodating them because there are laws that say they have to," Artie said as he set up his golf ball on the green again to take his turn at the next hole. "I know that film has the power to change that for people– especially kids. I want to be a part of that change."

"Do you really feel that way?" Griffin wondered, his eyebrows furrowed as he slowly shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. "Like people only want you around to fill a quota? That you aren't valued?"

Artie shrugged.

"To be honest, I've always felt that way," He confessed. "Less so now, I guess, but when I first joined Glee Club, it was all I could think about. Mr. Schue gave me the first solo and Rachel Berry threw a freakin' fit. She insinuated that a boy in a wheelchair couldn't possibly be the male lead, which was what inspired Mr. Schue to go off and find Finn. If other people don't think I'm deserving of the spotlight, how am I supposed to think that about myself?"

Griffin, Sebastian, and Ella were all quiet at that.

"I mean, I could have quit on the spot, but I didn't," Artie said quickly. "I loved performing too much to quit, so I stuck it out. And I even stuck it out when Quinn and Santana thought that it would be a brilliant idea to hire a choreographer for Sectionals who told me that I was depressing to look at, would throw off the whole dynamic of the dance number if I was on stage in my wheelchair, and that I wasn't trying hard enough."

He ticked Dakota Stanley's hurtful words off on his fingers. It wasn't hard to do, because even though it had been years since that encounter, Artie still thought about it daily. He'd never told Griffin or Ella about it, though, and they looked just as horrified as he'd expected.

"Hard enough at what?" Ella scoffed. "You're the hardest worker I know."

"Um, walking," Artie answered sheepishly, looking away out of embarrassment.

He knew that he hadn't done anything to warrant this hurtful comment. There was no reason he should be embarrassed at all, but still, when somebody makes a show of bringing attention to something you're insecure about but can't change, it's embarrassing.

"That's ridiculous," Sebastian spoke up now, hitting his golf ball a little too forcefully in his bothered haze that it skidded off of the green. "You said that it's, like, your nerves and your spinal cord right? You can't just-just fix that by trying harder!"

Now, this surprised Artie. He'd expected this sort of reaction from Griff and Ella, but he hadn't expected Sebastian to sympathize (or even really care), let alone get angry on his behalf. Artie knew that Sebastian's perspective had shifted ever-so-slightly after he'd given him a tense, emotion-filled lecture on why he couldn't cut Watson Price from The Warblers based solely on his physical abilities. Artie had mentioned the inaccessibility of Dalton Academy that day too, going so far as to call it 'a prison for somebody in a chair'. Artie supposed that the conversation had had more of an impact on Sebastian's pretty ableist previous mindset than he'd thought.

"It was a long time ago," was all Artie could bring himself to reply.

"Still."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Artie told them. His battles with his own internalized ableism weren't something he had ever discussed outside of his therapist's office. It felt weird– unnatural– to let his siblings in on this part of him that he seldom shared with the world.

"I think it's super dope that you want to go off to Hollywood and make movies someday, Art," Griffin said. "I think you're right. Disabled people– especially kids– should be able to see themselves represented on screen too. And there's no doubt in my mind that someday you'll direct a bunch of movies like that and treat the opportunity of telling those stories like the privilege it is."

"If there's anyone that would do a great job at that, it's you," Ella added, and Artie adjusted his glasses as he smiled at his brother and sister's honest and kind words.

"Listen, Artie," Sebastian began, leaning up against his golf club. "That choreographer guy's got it all wrong. From an outsider's perspective, you aren't viewed as any sort of 'weak link' because of your chair." He used the fingers on his free hand to form air quotes as he talked. "For whatever it's worth, I remember the night my dad came home after proposing to your mom, I googled you, and–"

"You what?"

"Oh, please. Don't seem so surprised." Sebastian rolled his eyes. "My point is that I've watched all of your glee performances. I've seen the musical you directed, I've competed against you… and chair or no chair, your talent speaks for itself."

Artie hadn't realized how good those words would make him feel. To know that people who don't even know him don't just look to him for pity or inspiration. To be seen as just as any other high school kid who likes to perform with his friends… Artie didn't even know what to say. He was overwhelmed.

"I… Um…"

"Whoa, you don't have to get all emotional on me, I'm just telling the truth." Sebastian cut Artie off before he could continue stuttering as he tried to form a sentence. "And, you know what? Even if people do try to doubt you, that's their loss, because the second you start to sing or dance, you'll shut them right up. You're really freaking talented, Artie. I know you know that."

"Preach," Griffin said. He imitated the way that Artie himself would usually respond– hand waving in the air and all– and it sounded so unnatural coming from his mouth that it got them all laughing.

They resumed their game then, but Artie couldn't shake the feeling that had come over him after having his emotions and experiences validated by all three of his siblings, especially Sebastian. Artie was beginning to think that maybe the other guy wasn't so bad after all.

I hope you are all enjoying this story so far! You may have noticed that I'm starting to write more in the present tense too, as opposed to focusing so much on the memories the siblings are sharing. My intention in doing this is to place an emphasis on the progress they are making as siblings over the course of the weekend, in addition to sharing the childhood stories. I hope that I can achieve that.

Please leave a review if you are enjoying this story. I love hearing what you think, and it motivates me to write more!