Page 82 of Fall Fake-Out

Just Wade looking entirely too content to spend his Saturday driving me across Vermont to collect discarded wood.

I immediately turn my attention to the scenery outside my window, knowing that I’m reading way too much into Wade’s motivations. “Man, you don’t see a view like this in Florida.”

Rolling mountains in the distance, their slopes still mostly green, though patches of gold have started appearing along the higher ridges. Every now and then, a maple tree blazes bright red against the darker forest around it, like it couldn’t wait for the rest of autumn to catch up.

“I almost forgot how much I loved it,” I say to myself.

“I’m glad you’re being reminded.” Wade goes silent, letting me take it all in.

A few miles pass before conversation gets the best of me. “Why’d you become a principal? Is it because your dad was?”

“It’s not because of my dad.” He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. “I guess it was because somebody should care.”

That’s not the answer I expected. I thought for sure he’d say something about more pay, the power that comes from being in charge, or the autonomy to do what he wants without the rigidness of a set schedule of classes.

“There was this freshman when I first started teaching.” He sits back deeper into his seat. “He got suspended three times before October.”

“Troublemaker?”

“That’s what everybody thought. Then I sat down and talked to him.” Wade shrugs. “Turns out he was working nights, stocking shelves, because his mom lost her job.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He keeps his eyes on the road as he shakes his head. “He was exhausted. Falling asleep in class. Missing assignments. The school administration—my dad—kept punishing him for his absences without asking why. My dad saw a discipline problem. I saw a kid who needed help. His situation taught me somebody should care enough to ask the second question.”

I’ve spent years categorizing Wade as charming and reckless and incapable of taking anything seriously. But this doesn’t fit the version of Wade I’ve carried around in my head. There’s so much more to him than what people choose to see. Or maybe he doesn’t let them see. I’m just glad he’s allowing me small glimpses into the real him.

“What about you?” he asks.

“What about me?”

“Why’d you become a teacher?”

“My answer sounds terrible compared to yours.” I laugh. “At first, it seemed like a good job for when I have a family. Summers off. Same schedule as your kids. Family-friendly.”

The words leave my mouth before I fully think about them. And suddenly, I’m twenty-three again. Engaged. Planning a future. Assuming there would be children and a husband and a life that looked completely different than the one I ended up with. I was young and naive. I’m different now…at least, I hope.

“But somewhere along the way, teaching stopped being about that.”

“And became?”

“The students.” The answer arrives immediately. “The ones lingering after class who need encouragement. Like you said, they desperately need somebody in their corner.”

Wade nods like he understands exactly what I mean.

By the time we pull into the pallet yard, something between us feels different. Not bigger or romantic. Just different. Like we have a better understanding of who each other is. I’ve judged only one side of Wade Stevenson and accidentally ignored the rest, and I’m slowly learning that’s been my loss all these years.

We both climb out of the truck at the same time.

“I’ll go inside and see if they have the order ready.”

I nod, glancing around the pallet yard at the stacks of wood and parked forklifts.

A man emerges from one of the buildings with Wade. He looks at me and smiles. “You two must be the bride and groom.”

I open my mouth.

Wade beats me to it. “Absolutely. Lady love and I can’t wait to get hitched on September twenty-third.”