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“While you’re here.” She slanted him a glance. “Students can sense when something is wrong, so it’s important for us to get along and maintain a good relationship. On a friend level, I mean.”
“I’m not all that great at relationships.” The admission came out before he’d even thought it. “Friend level or otherwise.”
Her mouth dipped down at the corners. “From the sound of it, you didn’t have the best role models. But I assure you I’m an easygoing and undemanding friend.”
He didn’t doubt it. He’d also never had a friend quite like her before.
When the bell rang and students began filing into class, a girl approached with three well-worn copies of Lincoln’s books. She introduced herself as Katie and held out the books with an apologetic smile.
“My dad asked if you could sign them. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Lincoln took the books and opened them to the title pages. “What’s your dad’s name?”
“Tim. He’s read most of your books. He says you’ve been to, like, the Amazon? That you lived with an indigenous tribe?”
“For research, yes.” Lincoln wrote a message in the books and signed them all.
“How long were you there?”
“Six months.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow.”
“Why’d you do that?” a boy sitting in the front row asked.
Lincoln looked at Grace. She spread her hand out in a gesture that said,“Go ahead, the floor is yours.”
The students took their seats, as if sensing that today’s class would be different. Lincoln had given talks about his experiences before, so it wasn’t a challenge to discuss them with Grace’s class.
He talked about his stay with the Waiapi tribe in Brazil, answered questions, and confirmed rumors that he’d also lived in Iceland, learned how to race sled dogs, and spent several months on a boat with treasure hunters seeking a sunken Spanish galleon allegedly loaded with gold and silver.
He didn’t tell them about Afghanistan.
The students peppered him with questions. Though he tried not to glamorize his experiences, he sensed their awe over the evidence of how big and fascinating the world was.
“It’s super cool to know being a writer doesn’t mean you’re hunched over a keyboard all day.” Katie hitched her backpack onto her shoulder after the bell rang. “You can have adventures and stuff too.”
“Freedom is one of the best things about being a writer,” Lincoln agreed.
“Do you have pictures and stuff you can bring in?” a boy named Colin asked. “Like, I want to do the sled dog thing. It would be so cool to actually go to the North Pole.”
“I’ll bring in some pictures, sure.”
The kids left the room, chattering amongst themselves. Lincoln glanced at Grace. “Maybe we should get back to your regular lesson plan.”
“No, you’d better talk to all the classes about this.” She waved her hand in permission, though a faint tension lined her features. “Just be a bit careful about suggesting they can have the kind of life you do.”
“I didn’t think I was doing that.”
“No, I know you didn’t mean to.” She straightened a stack of folders on her desk and walked to the whiteboard to erase a homework list. “But you live an exciting life, and obviously you come from a place of privilege. And the point of the Real World Specialist program is to give students insights into how they can apply their education to practical, attainable careers. It’s just a bit counterproductive for them to get the idea that they can make a living by searching for hidden treasures or racing in the Iditarod.”
Lincoln frowned. “Actually, they can.”
“Lincoln.” She glanced at him, her mouth twisting. “A third of these kids are bused in from rural, economically depressed areas because their schools had to close. My first teaching job was at one such school, and I can’t even begin to tell you the challenges the students faced. The goal is for them to get a solid education and graduate, then go to college or learn a useful trade. I obviously want them to learn about literature and poetry, and several of my students want to become writers, but they also need a realistic perspective.”
She held up a hand when he started to speak. “Don’t get me wrong, please. I want you to tell them about your life and adventures, and especially how it all relates to your writing. They’re obviously enthralled. I just need them to understand that what you do isn’t conventional or necessarily viable.”
While Lincoln understood her point, he didn’t like the idea that she assumed his career had come about because of his upbringing.
