This time there was cruelty in it.
The grin of someone who enjoyed watching another person become afraid.
"Should have thought of that before you decided to fit the description."
His hand moved toward the radio on his shoulder.
Not simply to call for help.
To make the accusation official.
To turn an assumption into a record.
To turn a student into a suspect.
George's hands started shaking.
He shoved them into his pockets so Thompson wouldn't see.
Thompson saw anyway.
His smile widened.
George took one step backward.
He didn't mean to.
It was instinct.
The way a hand pulls away from a hot stove.
The moment his foot moved, George knew he'd made a mistake.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Thompson's voice dropped.
Dangerous.
"Nowhere, sir. I'm sorry. I just..."
George lifted his hands.
Palms open.
The universal language for I am not a threat.
"I'm not trying to..."
"Hands down."
George lowered them.
"I said don't move."
"I'm not."
"Stop resisting."
But George wasn't resisting.
He stood still.
Trembling.
His backpack straps cut into his shoulders.
His physics flash cards scattered at his feet where they'd slipped from his shaking hands.
He saw Mrs. Chen's curtains move across the street.
The jogger from earlier had stopped near the corner.
His phone was out.
Recording.
A car slowed as it passed.
The driver's face looked concerned.
But the car continued.
Nobody ever wanted to be the first person to stop.
Thompson moved quickly.
His hand closed around George's arm.
Hard enough to hurt.
George gasped from surprise and instinctively pulled slightly away.
"Don't you pull away from me."
Thompson yanked him forward.
George stumbled as the backpack shifted his balance.
"I said don't resist."
"I'm not. Please, I'm not resisting."
George's voice rose.
Fear stripped away the careful control his parents had taught him.
This was wrong.
All of it was wrong.
The bus would arrive in 2 minutes.
Mr. Callahan might already be preparing the exam room.
George's mother believed her son was safe.
Thompson twisted George around.
George felt his shoulder wrench.
The officer's breath was hot against his neck.
Spearmint gum mixed with coffee and sweat.
"You're under arrest for resisting an officer."
"I didn't do anything."
The words came out raw and desperate.
"Please. I have a test."
"Should have thought of that before you decided to be a smartass."
Thompson's hand went to his belt.
George heard the snap of the taser holster.
Then the electric charging sound.
His blood went cold.
"No. Wait. Please."
"This is what happens when you don't comply."
There was satisfaction in Thompson's voice.
The tone of someone who had been moving toward this moment since the instant he saw George at the bus stop.
"I'm complying. Please, sir, I..."
The taser struck George in the back.
Every muscle in his body locked.
His legs gave way beneath him.
He hit the pavement hard.
The electrical current overwhelmed his body, leaving him unable to control his limbs or breathe normally for several terrifying seconds.