Day Three....9302

Day Three:

    Lissa disappeared into the crowd with Jake following close behind.  Mr. Morris shook his head.  He had trouble understanding why any girl showed interest in Jake Nelson.  Sure he was a good looking kid, but there was nothing there underneath.  The kid was talented athletically, but academically he was a rock.
    What was even more inconceivable to Mr. Morris was how his little girl could show interest in that kind of boy.  He knew he had raised her better than that, but he also had to admit that sometimes you buy a book based on the cover alone.
    Mr. Morris skirted around the peripheral of the dance floor.  He was searching for a friendly face or at least a familiar one.  He wasn't typically a worrier, but certain situations drove him to the edge of the anxiety cliffs.  All the costumes offered too much anonymity for Mr. Morris's liking. 
    The miscreants that pulled ridiculous stunts in broad daylight in the middle of a lab were bound to find boldness in being concealed behind face paint and masks.
    Mr. Morris glanced across the gym at a tall student, a boy he presumed, dressed in black robes that draped like the grim reaper's.  He could see horns protruding off the mask and expected a devil face, but what he saw when the figure turned was much more terrifying.
    The mask was a skull, with horns and a snake winding through the empty and lifeless eye sockets and nose cavity.  Mr. Morris's shoulders raised as he shook and tensed, hair raising on his neck.
    A tap on his shoulder made him leap into the air.  "Whoa, Daddy.  It's just me."
    Mr. Morris smiled, "Sorry, just some of these costumes are disturbing.  Are you having fun."
    "Yeah," Lissa yelled over the thumping base.
    "You're giving me that look," Mr. Morris said frowning.
    "What look?" Lissa said full of staged innocence.
    "The look that has made me open my wallet too many times to recall.  The look that makes me change my mind.  The look that makes me let you do things you want to do even though I don't think it's a good idea," Mr. Morris said.
    "I have no such look," Lissa said, playing the look up even more.  "I just want to go to Sit -N- Eat after the dance with my friends."
    "Who's all going?" Mr. Morris asked, knowing that he was going to say yes.  It was easier to draw a solid line in the sand if he didn't do it all the time.
    "Ralph, and Jake and the guys.  Sandy and Mel and some of the other girls.  Can I go please?" she begged.
    "Okay, but don't stay out too late.  And no sex or drugs.  And especially no sex drugs.  You drink nothing unless you pour it yourself or a waiter or waitress hands it right to you.  If you get up and go to the bathroom, get a new drink."
    "Daddy, stop being ridiculous!" Lissa yelled as the music died out.
    A popular hip hop line dance came on and Lissa drug her father out into the middle of the dance floor.  Mr. Morris didn't like being in the middle.  He really didn't like to dance anywhere that people might see him. 
    But with Lissa having so much fun and smiling and laughing, he soon found himself letting go and enjoying himself, even if everyone thought he was an alien.
    When the dance was over, Lissa found her dad to tell him not to wait up.  She knew he would.  She also gave him a hug and told him that she loved him.
    Mr. Morris stayed behind and helped clean up.  He really didn't have much else to do.  He could go home and begin his waiting or stay, help clean up, and then go home to wait.
     Walking around the edge of the gym, he pulled down all of the cobwebs and police tape, wadding it into a giant ball.
    "So which chemical reaction are you?" asked Mrs. G.
    "No, pretty sure I'm an alien," Mr. Morris laughed.
    "I think it's cute.  I came as Hamlet, but no one got it," she said raising her dog head mask up.
    "Oh, a great DANE," Mr. Morris said.
    "Well, at least it wasn't a total bust," Mrs. G said clearing the cheap plastic table clothes off the tables.
    "Your bust is just fine," Mr. Morris said.
    Mrs. G. reached out and hit him on the arm, "Stop being a perv monkey.  I get enough of that from the kids.  So are Lissa and Jake an item now?"
    "Don't think so, why?" Mr. Morris asked.
    "No real reason.  They just seemed very friendly."
    Mr. Morris shook his head, "I suppose to some extent it's her way of being a rebel without flat out disobeying me.  I don't the infatuation will last though.  She tends to go for literary fiction, not the bubble gum pop fiction."
    "Nice analogy, Mr. Science guy."
    "I have my moments," Mr. Morris said returning to his task of cleaning and clearing.
    "Mark, a bunch of us are going over to The White House for a few beers after we're done.  Did you want to come along?" Mrs. G asked.
    "Thank you, but no.  I'm not very much interested in company right now.  No offense."
    "None taken," Mrs. G said.  "They just said you wouldn't come and well I thought I could entice you."
    "You are a very enticing woman, but I'm just not interested in going out tonight," Mr. Morris said. "Perhaps another time? a rain check?"
    "I'll hold you to it!" Mrs. G said before walking away.
    Mr. Morris pondered what it would be like to go out with his colleagues.  He didn't really drink so he wasn't sure that hanging out with them at a bar would be all that fun.  He had garnered himself a reputation for being a homebody, but no one really blamed him.  Everyone knew he was a single dad raising his daughter with no real family around.
    Perhaps next year when Bellissa went off to college he could begin a social life.  Mr. Morris was mindlessly wiping down tables with a Clorox wipe.
    "Mark?" Mrs. G. asked.
    "Yes, Victoria? Unless I've been lied to my whole life," he responded.
    "You're always so witty.  I wish you would come out with us, but since I know you won't change your mind, I hope you have a good weekend."
    Mr. Morris had been hoping for one more request.  He was beginning to change his mind about not going, but he felt weird.  He was really starting to want t go, but he had said no.  He couldn't just show up.  No that would be too awkward and uncomfortable.  He'd need to be invited again.
    "There are few absolutes in life, Victoria," he said in the way of a challenge.
    "Well then, I suppose I'll see you there. Or you'll make a liar out of me," Victoria said running her fingers along the edge of his collar.
    Mr. Morris watched her walk away and thought about how long it had been since he'd just had a fun night out.
    He couldn't remember the last time he's done anything just for himself.
    Lissa was going out with friends, why should he do the same?  Of course he'd need to get some cash.  He never carried cash, but he figured that it would be easier to pay cash and tip and whatnot at a bar with cash.  Lissa would tell him he was over thinking the whole thing, but he liked to be prepared.
    He pulled out of the school with a mix of excitement and trepidation.  Social situation were not his forte.  Sure he could be witty when he needed to and his students always seem to enjoy his class, but when it came to interacting with other adults outside of work, he was ill equipped.
    He pulled into a Sheetz filling station and parked on the far side.  Walking into the convenience store, he saw the creepy kid from the dance walking out, mask still on.  An involuntary shiver shook Mr. Morris.
    Walking down the well lit aisle to the back corner where the ATM was, Mr. Morris tried to think through the evening. He figured he'd get out forty dollars or something then buy a candy bar so he could have some change right off the bat to tip.  Then he thought maybe not.  Maybe he'd just buy a drink and get change that way.
    'This is why I don't do this,' Mr. Morris thought to himself.  'Too many variables that I can't isolate.'
     As he headed to the register, he lost himself in thought. 
    "You okay Mr. M?" came a familiar voice.
    Mr. Morris looked up and saw a former student behind the counter.  He always liked seeing his former students, but he always ended up feeling guilty if he couldn't recall their name. 
    "You don't remember me do you?" the kid asked.
    "Chris, right?" Mr. Morris asked .
    "That's right, how you been.  You look a little green in the gills."
    "Oh, Halloween you know," Mr. Morris said absently handing over his soda and candy.
    Chris rang up the order and took the twenty Mr. Morris held out.  "Yeah, working here you see all kinds of craziness this time of year.  It's like a pit stop on a house of horrors tour."   
    "I imagine it would make for some interesting conversation," Mr. Morris said.
    "No doubt.  Well, have a good night Mr. Morris."
    "You too Chris," Mr. Morris said.  As he walked back out to the car, he was distracted trying to place Chris in the context of the class he would have been in.  The longer he taught, the harder it was to keep the kids and classes sorted out in his head.
    Then it hit him that he didn't even ask how Chris was doing.  Was he going to school or was the gas station the extent of what his diploma got him?  Mr. Morris was reprimanding himself for being insensitive and passing up a chance to encourage a student to continue his education.
    "Ugg," Mr. Morris felt a sharp pain in the back of his head.  He fell with a thud to his knees.  The rough pavement ripped his knees open as he hit.  Mr. Morris couldn't make sense of it.  The pain sensors in his body had taken over and rational thought was difficult to maintain.
    Slowly he slid his hand up through the back of his hair to the origination of the pain.  He felt a warmth that his mind immediately recognized as blood.  The smell of blood hit his nose at near the same the time he got his hand in front of his eyes.
    He was having trouble focusing.  Everything was blurring.  He slumped forward and tried to pull something, anything into focus.
    He could see feet.  He was quite certain he was about to be robbed, but as of yet, no one else had touched him.  He wondered what he was hit with.  He imagined that the old flapjacks from gangster movies would feel something like whatever it was that hit him.  What he couldn't seem to process was the scuffling noises he heard.  Or why he didn't feel someone going through his pockets looking for his money.
    He fought against the urge to just let the pain take over and sink into unconsciousness.  Someone was kneeling down over him.  The face was blurry, but it looked like it was Chris. 
    Large arms reached out under Mr. Morris and lifted him from the cold, rough pavement.   
    "Let's get him inside," Chris's voice.  "I'll call 911."
    "I think he'll be okay but best to call.  Any idea who those guys were?" New voice, Mr. Morris thought, something familiar but not easy to place.  He let it go.  He knew he needed to conserve energy.
    "Here bring him back here, there's a table in the back or maybe just the chair.  Whatever you think might be best," Chris's voice again. 
    Mr. Morris was trying to focus on the voices enough to distract him from the pain but not so much that wasted energy.
    "Mr. Morris, if you can hear me, can you blink or signal or something?" The other voice.
    Mr. Morris concentrated hard and opened his eyes.  A searing pain shot through his head.  The light was too bright.
    "Just rest Mr. Morris.  Don't strain yourself, help is on the way.  Okay, he can hear us.  That's good." Chris's voice followed by a weird beep.  "Got a customer.  You got this?"
    "Yeah."  It was the other voice again.  "Mr. Morris, I know you don't like me.  I mean I've never really given anyone a reason to like me."
    Mr. Morris struggled to open his eyes.  He was so close to placing this other person, but still didn't know exactly.  He needed to see him.
    "Don't struggle.  It's okay.  I just want to say that I enjoyed your class and that you're a really good teacher.  I probably wasn't the best student, but that's not your fault."
    It was a student.  A former student.  He was getting closer to the answer but it still escaped him.  The voice wasn't familiar and yet it wasn't totally foreign.  Perhaps it was a quiet student, a quiet and inattentive student.  Could it have been?
    Mr. Morris took a deep breath he heard sirens.  The pain was intense, but it wasn't the worst pain he'd ever felt.  When he injured his knee and pretty much tore and ripped and broke everything that could be torn ripped or broke, that was the worst pain ever.  It felt like his leg had been completely torn off.
    Mr. Morris slowed his breathing.  He concentrated on each muscle in his body.  He let each one melt into the next, letting the tension he was carrying in his whole body disappear.  Slowly he opened his eyes. 
    He saw a uniform.
    "Mr. Morris, can you speak?"
    "Mmmmm," gravel rolled through his mouth.  There was a metallic taste, blood.  Did he bite his tongue or cheek?  "Drink."
    "Get him some water," the uniform said.  "Mr. Morris, I'm an EMT and I need to check you out.  You took a nasty hit to the back of the head.  Does anything else hurt right now?"
    Someone held a bottle to his lips.  He sipped it, then gulped.
    "No," Mr. Morris said out of breath. 
    "Good, I'm going to roll you on your side and take a look at your head.  Can you help me?"
    Mr. Morris nodded and rolled on his side, with help from the EMT.  "Damn," Mr. Morris grunted.
    "Sorry, but I have good news.  It's mostly superficial.  Just stay on your side.  I'm going to look at your eyes."
    The EMT had gentle hands.  He helped Mr. Morris keep an eye open and flashed a light in his eyes.  The light wasn't as painful this time.  "Think you can sit up?"
    His head felt like it was a bass drum thumping.  It felt like the throbbing was physical.  It wasn't just in his head, his head was expanding. 
    "Good, just take it easy."
    "Can he answer a few questions?"
    "Give me a minute," the EMT said, shining the light in Mr. Morris's eyes again.  "He's got a nasty cut, but I don't think stitching it would help much.  It's pretty superficial.  The blunt trauma has caused a mild concussion."
    "Give me the long and the short," Mr. Morris recognized the Sheriff speaking.
    "He'll have a nasty lump and a killer headache in the morning but he'll be okay.  It's a good thing that kid showed up when he did.  Mr. Morris, I can take you to the hospital for a full exam.  Or if you want I can shave the back of your head and stitch it.  Or you can sign here, I'll flush it, clean it, and bandage it, and when the Sheriff is done you can go home."
    "Got a pen?" Mr. Morris smiled weakly.  The EMT quickly went to work and silently cleaned out the wound.
    "Hey, my shift is about over, Mr. Morris can I run you home?" Chris asked.
    "Son, give us a minute," the Sheriff said.  "Mr. Morris, do you know what happened tonight?"
    "Not entirely, but it felt like I was hit with a brick or blackjack, do they make blackjacks anymore?"
    "Yeah, they sometimes call them something else, but they make them.  I'd say you got a pretty good handle on the situation.  But do you have any idea why someone would want to hit you?" the Sheriff asked.
    "I really can't.  I thought I was going to be robbed since I'd taken some money out. You know, a crime of opportunity.  Random.  But they never went for my money or keys," Mr. Morris said.
    The Sheriff flipped back a page in his notebook, "Well according to the attendant--"
    "Chris?" Mr. Morris interrupted.
    "Yes, Chris.  He said another boy came out of the shadows and scared the perps off."
    "Who was the other boy?" Mr. Morris asked.  He still hadn't been able to place the voice.
    "I wish I knew.  He slipped out before I had a chance to talk to him.  I looked at the surveillance tapes and the attendant corroborates the story I saw there.  The mystery kid came out of the shadow and pulled some crazy karate or jujutsu.  The perps ran.  We couldn't see their faces and the kids face was partly hidden by you when he picked you up."
    "I know he was a former student, Sheriff, but that's it.  I had my eyes closed and the few times I opened them before you all showed up, well my eyes weren't focusing well.  I never got a good look at him.  I have an idea, but it seems so unlikely," Mr. Morris said.
    "I'm all done here," the EMT said.
    "Well, look Mr. Morris.  Tell me who you think your good Samaritan is.  I'll check it out and let you know.  In the mean time, it wouldn't hurt to let the attendant take you home.  Is there someone who can bring you back for your car?"
    "Yeah, look I don't know if it was him, but I think the mystery boy might be a student at Epcot named Leo Savage," Mr. Morris said, standing on shaking legs.  He took a few cautious steps.  He looked like a toddler taking his first steps.  But like that toddler, he soon found his footing and was walking with more confidence.
    The Sheriff flipped his notepad shut and said, "I'll check it out.  Be careful, take it easy, and get well.  I'll be in touch.  You're probably right, just some punks who saw an opportunity, but I'll have my deputies do some digging around.  See what we can find."
    "Thanks, Sheriff."  The Sheriff nodded and tipped his hat as he walked back out.