CHAPTER 3: APOLOGIZE TO HIM
"You set this up?" the driver snapped. "Over a bike?"
I stepped forward.
"Over my son."
He scoffed.
"I didn't hit him."
One of the suited men raised a tablet.
"Actually, your front camera shows you accelerating into the shoulder. Twice."
Another voice came from the crowd.
The pickup driver raised his phone.
"I got the whole thing."
The driver's jaw tightened.
"You're blowing this out of proportion. Kids get scared."
My son spoke before I could.
"You told me I didn't belong on the road."
The man turned toward him.
"I didn't mean—"
"Yes, you did."
My son's voice wasn't shaking anymore.
"You laughed."
Silence settled over the road.
The driver glanced around.
Phones.
Witnesses.
SUVs.
No escape.
I nodded once.
"You're going to apologize."
The man blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"To him."
The driver looked like he wanted to argue.
Instead, he swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"Try again."
His shoulders dropped.
He turned toward my son.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
My son stared at him for several seconds.
"You scared me," he said quietly. "And you didn't care."
The man lowered his eyes.
"I shouldn't have scared you."
A suited man handed him a card.
"Your insurance company will be contacted. So will the department reviewing your license."
The color drained from the driver's face.
As we walked back toward our bikes, my son looked at me.
"You think he'll do it again?"
I glanced over my shoulder.
The man who had laughed at a frightened child now stood surrounded by witnesses, evidence, and consequences.
May you like
"No," I said.
"This time, he'll remember."
