School had only been out for a few weeks and as much as he loathed admitting it, Kurt was already growing a little tired of summer vacation. In the past, he had mostly helped out at the garage or taken trips to visit with assorted out of town relations with his father, but this year was different. He still worked off and on to earn shopping cash, but the rest of his time had become unexpectedly empty. His dad had Carole Hudson to fill the free hours now, and the two adults had become enamored of hanging around the house doing projects together.

Unless Kurt really wanted to spend his entire summer holed up in the basement where it was possible to avoid moony-eyed parental stares and other assorted grossness, his best option was to "go outside and play", as Carole so embarrassingly phrased it.

He had been counting on having his friends to do things with whenever he needed escape, but unfortunately, most of them were caught up in the summer-jobs and visiting relatives routine as well, giving him no place to go. Finn was usually off somewhere doing something sports or Rachel related and Kurt could only take so many solo trips to the local mall and movie theater.

In short, Kurt Hummel was bored out of his skull.

He could not have said what possessed him to go for a drive with no destination in mind, or to pull his car over at the entrance to a small public park, but the walk through tree lined pathways proved to be pleasant and at least the canopy of trees made this hot July day seem a little bit cooler. He wandered past the picnic tables and over to the playground area, almost turning back the other way when his ears caught the unmistakable sound of a basketball bouncing on blacktop.

Then he heard a familiar voice.

"He goes for the layup. He's unstoppable, folks! Nobody on the floor can even get near him! Abrams is on fire tonight. He shoots!"

Kurt smiled as he arrived on the scene just in time to see Artie Abrams' right arm rising in a graceful arc, sending the basketball in his hand rising toward the net-free basketball hoop. It hit the rim and bounced back, gaining a groan of disappointment from Artie as it bounced away into a clump of scrubby looking bushes.

"It's a heartbreaker for the Cavaliers as the ball is blocked and recovered by the other team's star forward."

Artie looked up when he heard a laugh, grinning at the sight of Kurt, who bent down and retrieved the basketball, bouncing it slowly as he walked over and handed it to his friend.

"I didn't know you played basketball," Kurt greeted.

"Yeah, they have a wheelchair league down at the clinic where I go for physical therapy," Artie told him. "Today I was just bored and this park is usually empty since they built the newer one downtown last year, so I came here."

Realizing that they were only about two blocks away from Artie's house, Kurt did not ask if anyone had given him a ride. For that short a trip, Artie would have wheeled himself. "I was bored, too. I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do, so I came out here and went for a walk. Then I heard the crowd cheering, so I wandered over to watch."

Artie smiled at the tease. "I didn't know anybody was around to hear me," he admitted sheepishly. Looking hopeful but tentative, he offered the ball. "I don't suppose you want to play."

Kurt hesitated, automatically stopping to consider his wardrobe. He was wearing jeans today with a simple patterned T-shirt and his Converse sneakers. It really wouldn't hurt anything if he got a little dirty in them. The only problem was, "I'm not very good."

A bright grin spread over Artie's face. "You're playing one on one against a kid in a wheelchair. How bad can you be?"

"Probably worse than you think."

Artie laughed. "Aw, come on. Nobody will ever know."

"We-ell," he hedged, accepting the ball and giving it a couple more bounces just to get the feel of it. "I guess so."

"Cool! Tell you what, since blocking each other is pretty much impossible with you standing and me sitting, why don't we just take turns making free-throws? Whoever gets to 20 points first, wins."

Kurt nodded. "That's ten baskets, right?"

"Right," Artie agreed. He looked a little pained but Kurt was grateful that he did not actually make fun of the question. He even offered, "I'll let you go first."

Okay, Kurt thought, he could do this. The plain faded blacktop of the court had long since lost most of its markings but a faint white line was still visible where the free-throw line had once been painted. Looking up at the hoop, which seemed ridiculously far away, he dribbled a couple more times and then launched the ball. It missed by at least a foot.

"Did you just make a granny shot?" Artie asked in disbelief.

Kurt blushed. He had not considered his technique when he took the shot. He had just gone with what seemed easiest. "I guess. Is underhanded illegal or something? I don't know how to do it the other way."

"Oh." Artie now looked a little bit less certain that this had been a good idea, but he did not say anything as he wheeled his chair over to the free-throw line. "No, it's legal. It's just not something most people do. Here, let me show you."

Accepting the ball that Kurt meekly handed to him, Artie positioned his fingertips below and to the side of the orange stippled surface and positioned it overhead. He glanced at Kurt to make sure he was paying attention, then aimed. His hands lowered, and then the right one pushed firmly, sending the ball in a graceful skyward journey straight into the hoop. "Just like that. Now, you."

Retrieving the ball, Kurt tried again, doing his best to copy Artie's form. The ball didn't get anywhere near the metal hoop, just smacking against the wooden backboard and popping straight back at him so fast that he barely managed to catch it before it could hit him in the face.

Artie chuckled at the look on his face. "Nice catch. Try again, with a little more arc this time." He demonstrated another basket, then made Kurt get down on one knee so he could study his technique at eye level as he aimed and shot. "You're not supposed to just chuck it forward like a shot-put or something. You're lifting it up into the air. Gracefully, not powerfully."

Sighing softly and wishing he had just refused, the way he usually did when anyone suggested playing a sport, Kurt stood up and toed the line again. "Graceful," he repeated. He could do graceful better than most guys. This could not be that hard. Taking a deep breath, he positioned the ball just above eye level the way Artie had and lofted it skyward.

"Better!" Artie praised him.

Kurt was not so sure. The ball still hadn't reached the hoop, though it hadn't fallen as far short as his original attempt. "Now what?"

"You just need a little more power and I think you'll have it."

"Wait, didn't you just say it wasn't about power?" Kurt objected, trotting over to fetch the ball as Artie shot and missed.

Artie considered it. "Well, it's both really. I just wanted you to get the idea about how to aim it. Now that you're getting that, you need to put enough strength into the shot to get it all the way to the basket. And I know you can, I've seen you pick up and hold some of the girls overhead when you performed with the Cheerios. Compared to that, a basketball is nothing."

That made sense. Kurt got back into position.

"Bend your knees," Artie advised. "Use your momentum to push the ball forward."

He nodded and squatted down just a bit, allowing his entire body to snap straight as he shot the basketball. Sure enough, the orb obligingly sailed up and into the hoop.

Both boys whooped in triumph, exchanging a delighted high-five.

Kurt took several more shots at Artie's insistence, making three out of eight, before Artie decided that he had progressed far enough for them to start keeping score.

It took an hour before either of them managed to successfully reach 20 points, Artie finishing the contest four baskets ahead of Kurt. Both were sweating in the rising summer heat, particularly Kurt who had been obliged to run after all of the errant shots either of them made, but they grinned happily at one another.

"Don't tell anybody about this, okay?" Kurt requested, leaning forward to rest his hands on his thighs as he panted.

Artie laughed. "Your anti-jock rep is safe with me. Thanks for playing, Kurt. This was fun."

He nodded, unable to deny it but absolutely certain that the sport would not have been half as entertaining with a more demanding or less forgiving coach, which would include just about everybody he knew. Dashing a drop of sweat from his nose, he asked, "Do you have anywhere to be today?"

"No," Artie said, looking interested. "You have something in mind?"

Kurt smiled. "Mercedes got back from her cousin's house last night. She sent me a text. I was just wondering how she'd feel about gate-crashers in her back yard."

For a moment, the other boy looked confused. Then he laughed. "Right, Mercedes is the only person we know with a brand new backyard swimming pool."

"Exactly. The installation was supposed to be completed a couple of weeks ago and Mercedes promised she'd let me try it out," he said, rapidly texting his best friend with the phone he had whipped free of his jeans pocket.

Within seconds, he had a response back and he grinned as he showed Artie the screen which read, 'Q and T already here. Soda on ice. C.U. in 20. B.Y.O. Sunscreen, White Boys!'

Suddenly realizing that he had no idea whether or not Artie could swim in his condition, Kurt got around the awkward question by saying, "Do you happen to have an extra bathing-suit I could borrow, so we don't have to drive all the way to my house?"

It was a reasonable query. Mercedes only lived a half mile away from Artie, whereas Kurt was on the other side of town, barely even in the same school-district. Artie seemed to think so, too, for he replied, "Sure, as long as you don't mind wearing plaid or a Hawaiian floral print. That's all I've got."

Kurt stared at him. "Why am I not surprised? I suppose that would be fine, as long as you don't expect me to wear suspenders too."

He laughed. "Only if you want to. Come on. My folks aren't home, so you can grab a shower in their room while I dig out the suits and some towels."

"Thanks," he replied, happy to be with a friend that understood his fastidious nature so well.

Artie grinned. "Hey, you're the one who got us invited to a pool party. I should be thanking you!"