ethan π caplan
tags: none | mentioned: none | role: sports star
Ethan woke up to the harsh screeching of his alarm and groaned, knowing what was going to happen next. "Up! Up! Up! Get up, you lazy boy!" His dad pushed open the door and careened his wheelchair into his bed, rattling the frame. Ethan shot up and steadied his dad, a little irritated. "Easy, easy, I'm up." He stretched his arms over his head and yawned deeply. His dad rammed his wheelchair into his shins. "Get up! C'mon!" He rolled out of the room and Ethan heard his wheels rolling down the ramp that they had installed. Hopefully, he didn't crash again; once, he'd sped too fast and flown out of the chair, crashing into the wall. He'd broken his arm, which made wheeling him around impossible. He could have gotten a servant to push him around, but he'd insisted on having Ethan do it, claiming it was good for his character. In the mornings, he would sometimes make Ethan lift him instead of weights.
Ethan smirked and shook out his long limbs to get ready for the day. His dad was odd and brassy, but he loved him. He was better than his mom, anyways. His room was big, with a huge window on the side that looked down to his basketball court. Shelves shining with silver and gold basketball trophies lined the walls and he grinned, running a finger delicately along them. He pushed open the closet and grabbed some clothes without thinking about it: basketball shorts and a t-shirt of his favorite team. His closet was big, but his clothes only took up a small portion of it. The rest was filled with shoes.
Other than basketball, Ethan's other passion was sneakers. Heck, his Instagram was pretty much all shoes. He decided to post a picture of one of them and reached for a pair of white Nikes with a gold trim. He paused in mid-reach as he noticed a small ring of grime around it and frowned. He'll have to clean them after school today. He had barely finished putting his clothes on when his dad shouted from downstairs. "What're you doing up there, lazybones? Cleaning your filthy room for once? Get your rear in gear and get down here!" Ethan chuckled and headed downstairs. One of the servants had prepared some sort of green, chunky concoction that his dad was dictating. "Okay, add a bit more almond milk," his dad directed. Ethan wrinkled his nose at the putrid smell and grabbed an apple, shoving it in his mouth and running outside. He was wearing his basic basketball shoes today: nothing special. He started to dribble the basketball with one hand while speed-chomping the apple down in the other. He tossed the rest of the apple towards the sidelines and shot. The ball had just swished through the net when his dad rolled out and yelled at him to get his lazy rear back inside and drink his smoothie.
Driving to school was always a pain. Ethan's dad insisted on sitting in the passenger seat of their cherry-red convertible, barking tips on footwork that he'd heard a million times before. Ethan was pretty sick of it but he knew that this was the best way for his dad to cope with the loss of his legs. Ethan had heard him in his room, his hands twitching as if dribbling a basketball, and then the contented look on his face of a basket made. Then he would frown and wake up, panting and shouting incoherently before looking at his useless legs with disappointment. It had been 20 years since the accident and he still hadn't gotten over it. He pulled over towards the entrance, downing the gunky smoothie in one gulp. He nearly gagged. It was as gross as it looked. He tossed the container back in the car and let the servant riding in the back take the wheel. "See you later, Dad," he called before slapping the roof of the car and heading to school. He saw Topaz and her girls picking on Eleanor and rolled his eyes. Man. Girls were so high-maintenance sometimes.

