Chapter 16 #2
“Go ahead, Dexter,” Fern says.
“All right.” I take a deep, fortifying breath.
This all feels so weird, talking about what I do—about who I am—in front of virtual strangers.
Besides Sayla, of course. But that’s what this whole retreat’s been about.
Putting ourselves out there. Taking risks.
So I lean in, maybe for the first time since we got here.
“I teach health and physical education,” I begin, “which a lot of people would argue are fluff classes.” I cast a quick glance at Sayla, but her focus is on Fern.
“Even some of my coworkers think PE is about telling kids to run a mile. And health class is just talking about the updated food pyramid. So maybe I help the kids pass a national fitness test each year. But that’s easy, right?
It’s not like I’m unraveling calculus. Or exploring gravity. Or translating Shakespeare.”
“Dexter,” Fern interrupts. “You’re supposed to be telling us why you think your job is important. Not what other people think about it.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I just get a little defensive, because the truth is, I know what I do every day is crucial. My department shows kids how to take care of their bodies and their brains. We study nutrition and fitness. The effects of drugs, alcohol, and vaping. I try to make exercise fun. We try to demonstrate lifestyle choices that improve their chances at longevity.” I take a beat, feeling my pulse race.
“Do you have any idea how unhealthy a lot of my students are these days? Mentally and physically?” I glance at Sayla again, and her eyes are on me now, so I look away.
“Sports can heal a person inside and out. Not to be dramatic, but I’m honestly trying to keep these kids alive. ”
Fern gives that a moment to land, then folds her hands in her lap. “Sayla, how do you feel about what Dexter just shared?”
I keep my eyes off her now because I’m afraid I’ll see a challenge there. What if she wants to go to war over whose job is more important? That is so not where my head is right now. My heart, either. At this point, it’s not about coming out on top. I just want us both to be valued.
“I’m grateful for the chance to hear him out,” she says, her voice soft. Tentative. I hazard another peek to my right. She’s looking directly at me now, and my mouth goes dry. “I feel like I’m seeing a different side to him, too,” she adds.
“My left side?” I quip.
Man, Dexter. She’s trying to be real with you, and you’re making jokes.
Fern clears her throat, directing our attention back to her. “From what I’ve observed these past two days, Dexter, you often use humor in situations that feel … uncomfortable for you.”
“Oh, he definitely does that,” Sayla chimes in, and this hits me like a punch to the gut. They’re not wrong, but the truth is hard to hear.
“You’re right.” I duck my head. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Fern says. “I wasn’t trying to call you out. We all have our coping mechanisms. Sayla probably has a crutch or two herself.” Fern shifts her focus to Sayla. “What strategies do you think you rely on to maintain a sense of control?”
“Me?” She’s quiet for a moment, like she can’t think of a single thing.
“She’s a perfectionist,” I offer. “And she hates to lose.”
Fern lets out a quiet breath. “I was hoping Sayla could give us an answer.”
Yeah. Gut punch number two. I’m acting like a ten-year-old, trying to get attention, when I’m supposed to be open.
“He’s got a point, though,” Sayla admits. “I am pretty rigid. With myself and with the people around me. But Dex also just did what he’s best at.”
“Which is what?” I ask.
“Taking over a room,” she says. “He always has to be the brightest light, the loudest voice.” She pauses for a beat, looks at me. “I may hate to lose, but you’re the one who always wins.”
Whoa.
“Listen,” Bob says, jumping in. “I know this probably feels a whole lot like a therapy session, but that’s kinda what we do at Camp Reboot.”
“We say it right there in the name,” Hildy adds. “We’re rebooting you. With a big old boot to the butt.”
“And just so you know,” Fern says, “we’ll be sitting down with everyone like this to help them get just the fresh start they need. So don’t feel like you’re the only ones under the microscope.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “That’s exactly how this feels.”
Bob chuckles. “Fun, right?”
Not exactly the word I’d use.
“So here’s the thing,” Hildy says. “We’ve been watching you two over the past couple days, enough to see how you operate. You both put in a lot of effort, that’s obvious. But everything still feels like a competition. Not cooperation.”
“You’re either trying to be the best at something individually,” Bob adds, “or you’re trying to beat another team. The element of real cooperation is missing from your equation.” His eyes twinkle. “Math pun.”
“They don’t teach math, Bob.” Hildy rolls her eyes at him. “But Bob has a point. You haven’t managed to collaborate yet. Not just the two of you. And as of this morning, you still don’t have a plan for the big accreditation visit. So, we decided it’s time to intervene.”
“Intervene?” Sayla repeats. “What does that mean?”
Bob shrugs. “You two are gonna go back to your cabin now, and stay there until you’ve got a game plan to bring back to your principal. Figure out a way for Stony Peak High to demonstrate collaboration. An idea that will really wow everyone.”
“No problem,” I say. “We can absolutely do that.”
“We can?” Sayla says under her breath.
“There’s more,” Fern says. She fixes her smile on us. “The best collaborations aren’t just two people bringing their separate skills to the table, but also sharing those skills. Educating and learning from each other.”
“That’s a teacher pun,” Bob pipes up, practically bouncing, he’s so excited.
“So we came up with something to help you really dig into appreciating the other person’s role,” Hildy says.
“We think you need to walk around in a different pair of shoes.” Bob splays his hands. “So consider this our little nudge.”
Uh-oh.
“When you go back to Stony Peak,” Hildy says, “you two are going to switch roles until the accreditation visit.”
Sayla gawks at her. “Switch roles?”
“You’ll be the athletic director,” Hildy says, “and Dexter will take over performing arts. And whatever plan you cook up, you’ll have to implement from the other person’s position.”
I let out a small scoff. “Sorry, but there’s no way that will work.”
“It will,” Bob insists. “You’ll just have to support each other.”
“Which is kind of the whole point,” Hildy adds.
“Isn’t this idea a little gimmicky?” Sayla asks. “We’re talking about real life here, not a remake of Freaky Friday.”
“The switch is only temporary,” Hildy assures us. “And you’ll be right there to help your counterpart the whole time. We think this is the best chance you’ll have to truly cooperate.”
“So try to have some fun with it,” Bob chimes in. “The school is counting on you.”
“I see what you’re trying to do here,” I say, “and I appreciate the thought. But you forgot one big problem: Larry Wilford will never agree to the switch.”
Hildy’s eyes light up. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“We called him this morning.” Bob grins. “And he already said yes.”