Forty.
Forty-seven.
Noah stood near the doors with both hands hanging uselessly at his sides.
He could not move.
Cole parked first.
He shut off the engine.
The others followed.
One by one, silence returned.
Forty-seven riders climbed off their motorcycles.
Noah noticed something strange.
Each man wore a small paper badge pinned to the front of his shirt or vest.
White paper.
Blue marker.
He couldn't read them from where he stood.
Cole removed his helmet.
Then walked toward him.
Noah still couldn't move.
Cole stopped several feet away.
“Morning.”
Noah stared.
“You came.”
Cole looked around.
“Seems like it.”
“Why are there so many?”
Cole glanced toward the bikers behind him.
“You asked for somebody.”
Noah nodded.
“We had trouble deciding who.”
Noah covered his mouth.
He didn't mean to.
It happened automatically.
Cole looked at him carefully.
“You okay?”
Noah nodded.
Then shook his head.
Then nodded again.
Mason stepped forward.
“Kid's broken.”
Several bikers laughed softly.
Noah looked at the paper badge on Cole’s chest.
Now he could read it.
HERE FOR NOAH.
He looked at Mason’s.
Same words.
Then another.
And another.
Every rider.
Here for Noah.
Noah’s eyes burned.
He looked down quickly.
Cole pretended not to notice.
“Thought you said there'd be breakfast.”
Noah laughed through his tears.
“There is.”
“Good.”
“We skipped diner.”
Mrs. Harper had come outside.
So had the principal.
The principal looked from Noah to the motorcycles.
“Mr…?”
Cole extended a hand.
“Cole Garrett.”
“I’m Principal Dawson.”
“Morning.”
She looked toward the riders.
“Are all these gentlemen with you?”
Cole glanced back.
“Unfortunately.”
Mason shouted:
“He means proudly.”
Another rider answered:
“He definitely means unfortunately.”
Parents laughed.
The tension disappeared almost instantly.
Principal Dawson looked at Noah.
“Are these your guests?”
Noah swallowed.
“Yes.”
“All forty-seven?”
He looked at Cole.
Cole shrugged.
Noah smiled.
“I guess.”
The principal stared at the motorcycles again.
Then smiled.
“Well.”
She opened the door wider.
“We may need more chairs.”
Family Day changed after that.
Not just for Noah.
For everyone.
The bikers did not enter the school as one giant crowd.
Cole divided them.
Some joined breakfast.
Some remained outside talking with parents.
Others walked through classrooms in smaller groups.
Children who had been afraid at first quickly became fascinated.
Questions exploded.
“How fast does your motorcycle go?”
“Do you sleep in leather?”
“Why is your beard so long?”
“Did that tattoo hurt?”
“Are motorcycles louder than airplanes?”
Mason answered every question with complete seriousness until a third grader asked whether he was Santa Claus.
Cole nearly fell over laughing.
Noah stayed near him.