Teacher's Crossroad

"Yes. It took some time, but yes. Thank you, Officer Patricks," Tyson said and shook the man's hand. His partner was wearing a grin on his face as well.

Miranda saw the sick look on Blake's face as he realized how he wasn't going to have his way this time. She smiled as she had just the thing to make his day even worse. "Would you like to see what actually happened?" she asked the officers.

Everyone looked at her. She pointed to the camera on her bike helmet. "I recorded it."

Blake looked a little green.

Miranda smiles sweetly at the officers. "The video recording begins when Blake pulled up to the curb."

She looked at Blake, who was squinting at her through bleary eyes. "Yes, I recorded all your racist comments, and I'll be going to the station tomorrow to press charges for the threats you made to me."

She especially enjoyed the look of panic on his face.

What a lovely day!

-=-

Tyson watched the look of deep satisfaction on Miranda's face. She really didn't like Blake.

"Will you be pressing charges, Mr. Kane?" Officer Patrick asked, drawing his attention back.

He really didn't have the energy to follow through with charges. "No. I thought the ice cream in the face would have been enough to cool the hothead down. His punching the light post is enough justice for me. I hope he learned something from the experience." Tyson said with a sigh.

He saw Miranda give Officer Patrick's partner the memory card from the camera. She inserted a spare into the camera for their return journey.

After saying their goodbyes, Tyson watched the police guide Blake to the ambulance, which had just arrived. Tyson went into the ice cream shop to wash his hands.

When he returned, he looked at Miranda. "Are you ready to continue?"

She nodded happily.

The ride through downtown was eye-opening for Tyson. There must have been a modernization project as the street lights looked new and the roads were newly paved and painted. Many of the buildings had been given a facelift, as well. The core had undergone a revitalization.

Considering this was the real estate that would have been destroyed if the two students had completed their mission, he wondered why the town council had restored and reinvigorated the tired and abandoned business district. Maybe the national attention by the press forced their hand. The money had likely been destined for their pockets, instead, so this was doubly pleasing.

Regardless, he was delighted to see new life here and young people, students from the local university, enjoying themselves among the unique boutique shops and fancy coffee houses.

They drew closer to the university, and Tyson realized the ride from his place to these buildings wasn't long or difficult at all. The idea of future visits to George suddenly popped into his mind. He slowed, and Miranda looked at him curiously.

"Do you think it would be okay if I just popped my head in to say hello to George?" he asked.

She beamed him a smile. "That sounds like a good idea. What building?"

"Uh, six years ago, the math department was in the Clement Hall Building," he said uncertainly.

"It's still there." She rode across the campus and dismounted at the bench outside the building.

Miranda gestured for him to lay his bike down on the grass next to hers. "I'll watch the bikes. Take as much time as you need," she said as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

He put his helmet on the bike, then Tyson made his way up the steps to the big double doors leading into the building. At the top, he paused to look down at himself. Dressed in cycling gear wasn't the classiest way to enter his old workplace. He took a deep breath and sighed. He was retired. He didn't have to impress anyone. He pulled the door open and walked inside.

The admin offices were just to the right. George's office was behind that, but Tyson wasn't staff anymore, so he'd just ask the office staff to check on his availability. He pulled the door open and stopped at the counter, seeing two young women look over at him. "We don't take courier deliveries in this office," one said.

He snorted in amusement. "I'm not a courier. I'm looking for George Haley. I-I'm an old friend. Is he in?" He heard the office door open behind him but focused on the young woman approaching the counter. She was looking at him suspiciously.

"I'll need a name," she insisted.

"Tyson Kane."

There was a squeak to his right, and books landed with a thump. He turned to see an older woman gaping back at him. Five-foot-nothing in one-inch-heeled sensible shoes. Her standard simple tan blouse under a brown sweater above a brown skirt. She was still a slim, grey-haired pixie of a woman with startling green eyes. His memory bubbled her name up from the back of his mind. Gail Sampson. George's personal secretary. She'd worked with George since he'd arrived at the university.

"Tyson?" she said with a shaky voice.

He smiled. "Hello, Gail."

"Oh, my god! Tyson!" she wailed as she rushed forward to pull him into a hug. He glanced down at her in surprise before wrapping his arms around her, too. He glanced over at the two office girls who were staring at him in shock.

Gail pushed back the smile up at him. "You found a way to leave your home and come to the university!"

He glanced at the two women listening in, then smiled down at her. "Yes, well, not me. One of the students, Miranda Moreno, had the idea I might be okay cycling instead of using a car. It worked. Here I am." He looked around. "I'm still having a little trouble believing I'm here."

"You have to see George!" Gail said excitedly.

He nodded. "Is he in his office? I'd like to say hello."

"No, he's in a class. Come with me," the woman insisted.

Tyson hesitated. "I don't want to disturb him or his class."

Green eyes locked on his as she pushed the office door open. "George would never forgive me if I didn't bring you to see him immediately."

She led him up the staircase at the end of the hall to the third floor. The door for the third classroom on the right side of the corridor was closed, and Tyson tried to stop Gail, but she just made a scolding noise, rapped her knuckles on the door twice, then pulled it open.

George Haley was standing before his desk at the front of the class with a frustrated look on his face. His wild mop of white hair looked like he'd been pulling it, again. He turned his head to the door and froze when he saw who was standing there. The math text slipped from his fingers to hit the floor with a bang.

Gail gently pushed Tyson forward until he stepped into the room. He felt the eyes of the eighteen students turn his way.

"You're here! How?" George gasped.

"A student, Miranda Moreno, suggested if I couldn't travel in a car, I might be able to do it on a bicycle." He gestured to the classroom. "It seems I can," he said humbly.

"Can't travel in a car? Lame," a student voiced.

"MR. PHILLIPS! You are one second away from failing my class. You either apologize for your stunning lack of empathy or get the FUCK OUT OF MY CLASSROOM!" George raged as his eyes bored into the wide eyes of the stunned young man.

"George, it's okay. Being young and stupid isn't a crime, nor is it terminal. There's always hope," Tyson said as he stepped closer to his friend.

"Apologize," George growled quietly.

"I'm sorry," young Mr. Phillips said quickly.

Tyson watched his friend, who seemed like he was finally settling down. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here to disturb you in the classroom. I just finally managed to make it into town without being sedated, and I thought I would visit you since you visited me so many times," Tyson explained.

"It is a wondrous thing, and I thank you for sharing this achievement with me!" He stepped forward to take Tyson's hands between his.

"Mr. Haley? Can you introduce us to your friend?" said a pretty, raven-haired woman with a pixie cut in the front row. Tyson could almost feel her eyes undressing him.

George released Tyson's hands to beam a happy smile to the woman under his thick mustache. "I certainly will, Ms. Dewitt." He turned to put a hand on Tyson's back and turned him to the students. "This is my good friend, Tyson Kane."

A few faces registered surprise. They were the ones aware of the events of six years ago. Ms. Dewitt seemed to be one of them.

"The same Tyson Kane who stopped the terr—"

"Yes. But more significant than that, he's Tyson Kane, the math genius!"

Tyson grinned at his friend's enthusiasm but shook his head.

Seeing the doubt on the faces of the gathered students, George looked to the clock. "Okay, there are twenty minutes left in the class. How many of you are still confused by the current chapter?"

All hands went up, and the professor scowled, then looked desperately at Tyson. "I've made a mess of this. Can you help them?"

Tyson leaned back slightly from the man then looked at the curious expressions on the young faces. He wasn't even aware that he was moving to the front of the class until George placed the textbook he'd dropped earlier into his hands. He looked down at the page and saw what they were studying. He needed to understand their issue, so he began to ask them individually where their difficulties were. When he'd captured enough information, he made everyone stand and hold their hands outstretched before them, shake them and blow rude raspberries to clear their minds of their preconceived notions. He demonstrated the gesture, and after the initial laughter, he managed to get sixteen of the eighteen students to copy him. Mr. Phillips and the boy next to him didn't play along. He turned his attention to them.

"Mr. Phillips and...?" he asked, looking to the embarrassed man.

"Mr. Kent?" the young man mumbled.

Tyson nodded. "Mr. Phillips and Mr. Kent. You need to clear your mind. It doesn't matter what gesture you use to do it as long as it is outrageously different from what you've done so far. How about doing this?" He suddenly struck a bodybuilder pose and grunted aggressively—more laughter from the class. Mr. Kent was right there and mimicked him perfectly, so Tyson clapped. Mr. Phillips gave a weak effort, which was all they were going to get from him, so Tyson just nodded.

"Great! Now that we're all fresh and new, let me tell you a little story," Tyson exclaimed.

Twelve minutes later, the students were filing out of the room, chattering excitedly, and Tyson leaned back against the desk, feeling a warmth filling him he'd thought was long gone.

Ms. Dewitt stopped before him. "Thank you for dropping by today. We all feel far better now that we understand. If you wanted to drop by more often, we would love to have you. I would love to have you." She gave him a coy look and joined the others leaving the room. She smiled at him over her shoulder as she stepped outside.

George had a broad satisfied smile on his lips, and Gail leaned back against the wall by the door with the same smile.

Tyson pulled his mind back from the not-so-subtle invitation. "Thank you for the opportunity to dip my toe into the pool again. That was fun!"

George shook his head. "Fun! He says it was fun! Did you see how frustrated I was when you arrived? This material isn't fun unless you are passionate about the subject matter. From you, it's a love story! From me, it's hard work. No one wants to listen to me, but you had every one of those students craving each word."

"Not Mr. Phillips."

George sighed. "No, not him. He arrived with the chip on his shoulder that he can't see past."

Tyson nodded. "You can't help them if they don't want it." He looked at George and Gail. "I missed you guys."

Gail stepped closer. "We missed you, too! The students missed you, as well. They've been listening to George berating them for too long. They need you to come back!"

Tyson looked at her in surprise. "I-I was just stepping in to help George. This one time. I'm retired."

"You did me a wonderful favor, and I deeply appreciate it," George said, patting him on the arm. "But you can't tell me you didn't feel it; the thrill of the connection, the joy of reaching their minds, the reward of helping them learn. You are a teacher. Math is your passion. Teaching is as natural as breathing for you. The students have never left my classes as pumped and excited from my lessons as they did for you in twenty minutes. I'm passionate about physics, and the faculty has me covering these math classes. They could be yours again, and everyone would benefit."

George stopped when he could see Tyson was going to argue, so he held up his hands. "We are perhaps over-excited by the possibilities your new mobility and freedom have made possible. Sleep on it, and know you are always welcome to visit. I believe Ms. Dewitt indicated other things would be welcome too."

"George Haley!" Gail scolded.

"I'm just sayin'!" George replied with a grin and a shrug.

Tyson hugged the man then gave Gail a hug as well, which she accepted with a big smile. "I should get going as I left Miranda waiting out front with the bikes."

"Ah! We must go with you so we can thank her personally," George exclaimed, and Gail nodded in agreement.

Tyson led his friends downstairs and out the front doors to meet Miranda, who stood as they approached. Gail moved forward and gave the surprised girl a hug, closely followed by one from George.

"Thank you so much for helping Tyson find a way to escape his isolation," George gushed.

"Oh! Ah... It wasn't anything special, and I didn't do it completely selflessly. I was hoping he would enjoy cycling enough to want to join me for rides," she confessed.

Gail patted her hand. "It was still your idea to try an alternative way for him to get to town. None of us thought of it, and George has been visiting him for years." She cast an annoyed look at the man, who shrugged.

George watched Tyson put on his helmet then looked at the bicycle. His bushy eyebrows rose. "That is a beautiful machine! What does something like this cost?

Tyson blinked and looked at Miranda. She was looking like she wanted to be elsewhere. "How much did Christy spend on the bicycle?" he asked.

Brown eyes looked up into his. "Six thousand," she said quietly.

"What?" Tyson gasped.

Miranda bit her lip and looked at him nervously.

Tyson scowled. "I'm going to have a talk with her."

George put his hand on Tyson's arm. "The price is negligible compared to the value of your freedom."

Tyson looked at his friend for a moment, then nodded stiffly. "We should go. It was great seeing you two again. I'll come back for more visits."

"Think about what we said, too," Gail remarked, and he gave her a stiff nod as well.

They got back on their bicycles and waved to George and Gail as they rode away from the campus.

The route they followed with the new signage took them to the western edge of town, where the winding country lane began. The entrance was blocked to vehicular traffic, but they rode between the metal posts.

They picked up their pace, and Tyson began to smile once more as the bike swept up and down the rolling hills and took the corners so well. He had to admit it was a finely crafted and balanced machine. He still thought six thousand was far too much for Christy to spend on a bicycle for him. He was going to insist that she allow him to pay for some, if not most, of the cost of the bike. There was such a thing as being too generous.

On a straight section, he glanced over at Miranda and saw she was watching him.

"Are you mad at us?" she asked.

"No. Your hearts were in the right place. I'm sure I could have ridden a bicycle that cost under a thousand dollars and enjoyed it almost as much as I am this feat of engineering." He sighed. He really was enjoying the ride.

"So, does this mean you'll continue to go on rides with me?" Miranda asked.

He smiled as he saw the road turn up a small slope ahead. "Yes. Definitely, I'd like to go on some more rides with you. This is wonderful!"

Miranda squealed happily, then shot ahead with a giggle. He lifted himself from the saddle to give chase.

He felt like a kid again, and that felt good.

Chapter 8

Devon Wilson walked through the hospital's emergency ward in a funk. Once, the Chief Surgeon lit up a room when he entered it, and the nurses all looked forward to his rotation through the ward. Now, they avoided him.

He couldn't really blame them. He knew these days his patience was short and his temper shorter.

Two officers were waiting with a young man whose body language screamed white privilege. Devon couldn't wholly relate, but he knew about growing up wealthy. His parents had been affluent, and he certainly hadn't wanted for anything. He'd attended the best private schools and went to the most prestigious medical college. He was a member of the best athletics clubs and moved in the circles of society's wealthiest members.

His union with Cecily had been a political one, and it ended badly. He vowed off marriage once they were officially divorced, though, for one woman, he would have gratefully jumped back in with both feet.

But it wasn't to be.

With a sigh, he grabbed the chart for the patient and approached them. One glance at the sheet on the clipboard and how the young man was holding his right hand told him everything he needed to know. It indicated he'd been sent for x-rays when he first arrived. He'd confirm the results on the terminal once he spoke to the patient.

The three men looked at him as he arrived. "Hello, Mr. Carlington. I see you've damaged your right hand. Can you tell me how you did that?"

"I punched it against something hard," was the brief reply.

"Something or someone? If the police are here, there is usually someone else involved," Devon said.

"I was aiming for someone, defending myself against him, and I punched a light post," Blake mumbled.

Devon looked to the officers. "Was the other man injured in any way."

"No, Mr. Kane managed to avoid the wild punch. Mr. Carlington was lucky Tyson didn't take offense and decide to throw some punches of his own. Guy's built like a tank!"

Devon was blinking as his head began to throb. "Did-did you say, Tyson Kane?"

The officer nodded.

"I'd been told he was badly injured, an invalid, confined to his house with an emotional disorder," Devon mumbled in shock.

The cop barked a laugh. "I don't know anything about the last thing, but he certainly didn't look injured to me. He was riding bicycles with a hottie and looking pretty happy about—HEY!"

Devon stormed away from them and dropped the patient file on the nurse's station as the pain in his head spiked. Kane was cycling with some slut? NO!

He left the building, climbed into his Porsche Carrera, and raced from the parking lot. He quickly passed through town and was speeding along the new road heading south to the lake. He was able to open up the engine on the straight and smooth, less traveled road, and the scenery flashed by.

Turning onto the lakefront road, he had to swerve to avoid a young woman on a bicycle. It was probably the slut who was riding with Kane. He flipped her the bird out the window, then raced away down the road.

He knew precisely where Tyson lived. He'd been there once before.

Devon pulled into the gravel drive and got out of his car. He marched up to the door, his thoughts in wild disarray. He wasn't sure what he would say or do, but he needed to see for himself if what the police officers said was true. He thumped his fist on the door, and it opened.

He stood there, staring at the man gaping back at him. He wasn't crippled. He wasn't wasting away as he should have been. FUCK! He looked like he was in better shape than Devon!

"Wilson? What the fuck—"

Tyson lost his breath as Devon hit him in the solar plexus with everything he had, knocking him back into the living room, then hit him again and again with every move he knew that caused crippling pain. He wanted Kane to suffer.