The big biker put down his coffee.
One of the other men followed his gaze.
Nobody needed to say anything.
The big man crossed the parking lot.
The girl saw him coming.
For a second, fear joined everything else on her face.
He understood why.
He was almost six and a half feet tall.
His boots were heavy.
His beard was thick.
Chains hung from one side of his jeans.
So when he reached the sidewalk, he did something most adults rarely remembered to do around frightened children.
He lowered himself.
One knee on the concrete.
Now they were almost eye level.
The girl looked at him.
He looked at the walker.
At the braces.
At the school.
Then at the traffic.
His face softened.
"You trying to get across?"
The girl nodded.
Her voice was barely loud enough to rise above the street.
"Yes, sir."
The biker glanced toward the signal.
Then back at her.
"Want company?"
Another tiny nod.
He noticed the yellow butterfly peeling from the walker.
Without touching the girl, he gently pressed the sticker back onto the metal bar.
"There."
The little girl watched his hand.
A strange thing happened.
Her shoulders lowered.
Not much.
Enough.
The other bikers were already moving.
One stepped into the nearest lane the next time the light changed.
He raised one open gloved hand.
A minivan stopped.
Another biker entered the second lane.
Then another.
Within seconds, six rough-looking men had turned themselves into a human wall around the crosswalk.
No yelling.
No threats.
No pounding on hoods.
Just bodies positioned where impatient drivers could not pretend they had not seen a child.
The big biker stood beside the girl.
"You set the speed."
She looked up at him.
"Even if I'm slow?"
He shook his head.
"Slow ain't wrong."
The signal changed.
She moved the walker.
One step.
Then another.
The bikers walked with her.
One in front.
One behind.
Two watching traffic.
The big man stayed beside her shoulder.
At the center of the street, her right leg trembled.
He saw it.
She stopped.
Traffic waited.
A horn sounded somewhere farther back.
The biker slowly turned his head toward the sound.
The horn stopped.
The girl looked embarrassed.
"Sorry."
The biker looked down at her.
"For what?"
"I'm holding everybody up."
He glanced at the line of cars.
Then back at her.
"They'll survive."
She swallowed.
"My leg gets tired."
"Then your leg gets a minute."
He did not touch her.
He rested one hand on the walker's metal rail instead.
Not moving it.