Last Chance by Norah McClintock Page A

wasn’t long before a Frisbee sailed through the air. One of the RAD participants raised his arm up, up, up and caught it. Then his arm arced back and he released the Frisbee again. It soared across the field to another RAD participant, who leaped clear off the ground to make the catch.
    Nick was standing closest to the wing where the animals were kept. Someone threw the Frisbee in his direction. Nick moved toward it, looking up, gauging its distance. But the Frisbee was too close and still too high. Nick reversed direction, running backward now, looking up, his eyes focused on the blue disc.
    As Nick ran backward, Mr. Schuster appeared around the side of the animal building leading a small dog on a leash. He was headed for the door to go inside. His attention was focused on the dog, which was balking. Mr. Schuster bent down to say something to the dog or to coax it along. I don’t think he saw Nick. I know Nick didn’t see Mr. Schuster. The rest of the RAD guys did, though. They saw what I saw—Nick running backward, his gaze directed up at the Frisbee, his hand swinging up now, moving to make a grab for it. But they all just stood there, watching, as the gap between Nick and Mr. Schuster got smaller and smaller until . . .
    â€œMr. Schuster!” I shouted. “Mr. Schuster, look out!”
    Mr. Schuster turned to see Nick bearing down on him, but it was too late. Nick slammed into him. Mr. Schuster flew sideways. The little dog scrambled out of the way and narrowly missed being squashed when Mr. Schuster hit the ground. Nick lost his balance on impact and fell on top of the old man. Everyone, including me, ran toward them.
    Nick had sprung to his feet by the time I reached Mr. Schuster. He was leaning over the old man, his hand outstretched. Mr. Schuster struggled into a sitting position. His face was pale. He slapped Nick’s hand away.
    â€œThug,” he said.
    Nick’s face clouded.
    The door to the animal building opened, and Kathy came out. She took in the situation. “What happened?” she said to the RAD guys.
    â€œHe fell,” one of them said.
    â€œFell?” Mr. Schuster spluttered. He was rubbing one shoulder. “That young hooligan knocked me off my feet and threw himself on top of me,” he said. He glared at Nick. “You should keep those kids on a leash!”
    â€œHey!” Nick said. His eyes blazed. He started toward the old man. One of the other RAD guys grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.
    â€œIt’s not worth it,” the guy said.
    â€œIt was an accident,” Nick said.
    â€œThere are no such things as accidents,” Mr. Schuster said. “There are only preventable injuries. If you’d been watching where you were going, it never would have happened.”
    â€œYeah, well—” Nick began. Kathy looked at him, her brown eyes signaling a warning. Nick shut his mouth and kicked the Frisbee, which had landed near his feet. It scudded across the grass.
    Kathy turned back to Mr. Schuster. “Let me help you up,” she said.
    Mr. Schuster didn’t push her away as he had pushed away Nick. Kathy strained with the effort of hoisting the old man to his feet. I rushed forward to help.
    â€œAre you all right, Mort?” Kathy said.“Are you hurt?”
    Mr. Schuster leaned heavily on us. He seemed to be dragging one leg.
    â€œLet’s help him to the picnic table,” Kathy said to me. “You can catch your breath there, okay, Mort?”
    The old man grunted. “The dog,” he said.
    I glanced back over my shoulder at the little dog Mr. Schuster had been walking. The poor thing was cowering near a bush.
    â€œDougie,” Kathy said to one of the RAD participants. “Take the dog inside.”
    A hulking guy with a skull tattooed on his left forearm picked up the leash and yanked on it.
    â€œGently, for Pete’s sake,” Mr. Schuster said. “That’s an animal, not a