Chapter 2

The bus became a pressure cooker of despair. The radio announcement had snuffed out the last ember of hope.

"We' re not going to make it!" a boy in the front wailed, burying his face in his hands.

His mother, a woman in a prim business suit, looked like she was about to explode. "A whole year of tutoring! Wasted!"

Susan, instead of showing an ounce of shame for the scene she' d caused, turned to Mark and hugged him tightly.

"Don' t you worry, Mark," she cooed, stroking his wet hair. "It' s just a little setback. Your lucky year can' t be stopped by a little water."

That was the final straw. The collective anger of the other parents, which had been simmering, finally boiled over.

"A little setback?" a large man roared, pointing a thick finger at Susan. "You crazy woman! You were trying to kick a kid off this bus, and now none of them can go!"

"It' s his fault too!" another woman screamed, jabbing her finger towards Mark. "Look at him! He' s old enough to be our father, still trying to get into college! What a loser!"

The insults turned into shoves. The large man pushed Mark, who stumbled backward into Susan. Another parent grabbed Susan' s hair. Mark, trying to protect her, threw a clumsy punch and missed, falling into the mud.

It was ugly. A pathetic, desperate brawl in the pouring rain.

I watched for a moment, letting the chaos serve as a small, bitter appetizer. I saw Susan get knocked to the ground. I saw Mark curl up as a foot swung towards his side. It was enough.

"Stop!" I yelled, my voice cutting through the noise with professorial authority.

The crowd paused, turning to look at me.

I checked on Emily first, making sure she was okay. Her cheek was red and swollen, but she was more scared than hurt. I squeezed her shoulder gently.

"It' s going to be okay, sweetie. I promise."

Then I took out my phone. I ignored the mud-caked, bruised figures of Susan and Mark. I dialed a number I had for the Mayor' s public liaison office, a contact I' d made after serving on a city-wide educational committee.

"This is Professor David Miller," I said, keeping my voice calm and firm. "I' m on the district bus for the college entrance exam with about thirty students. The bridge on Route 7 is out. These kids have worked their entire lives for this day. You need to do something."

I put the phone on speaker. The voice on the other end was flustered but professional. After a tense minute on hold, he came back.

"Professor Miller, the Mayor has been briefed. We' re dispatching emergency transport. Helicopters. They will airlift the students from your location to the exam center."

A wave of relief and joyous shouts swept through the bus. Hope, impossibly, was back.

Susan, staggering to her feet with Mark' s help, actually had the audacity to preen.

"You see?" she announced to anyone who would listen, a trickle of blood running from her lip. "I made this happen! If I hadn' t made a scene, the city would have just let these kids fail! You should be thanking me!"

A few parents just stared at her in disbelief.

One of them, the mother in the business suit, approached me, her face etched with concern. "Professor, this is amazing, but... will we have to pay for this? An emergency helicopter?"

I gave her a reassuring smile. "The Mayor' s office has confirmed the city will cover the cost for all registered student examinees."

Then, I lowered my voice, just enough for her and a few others to hear, but making it sound like a casual clarification.

"Of course, that' s just for the students on the school' s official roster. Any private applicant, like him," I nodded subtly toward Mark, "would have to arrange payment for a private charter. An emergency flight like that, on a day like this... I imagine it would be astronomically expensive."

The mother' s eyes widened in understanding.

Unaware, Susan was still embracing Mark in the rain, their faces alight with deluded dreams of his imminent, glorious success.