Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Dex
“You know, if you hurt my best friend, I will have to kill you.” Loren eyes me sideways, one brow cocked high. “And I’m a lot scarier than I look.”
“I believe you.” I lift my palms in surrender. “But the good news is, I’d rather lose an arm than hurt Sayla. Both arms, probably.”
“Good man.” Loren shifts her focus back out to the field where Sayla’s pacing the sidelines. She’s got a whistle permanently glued to her lips, and I have a pencil behind my ear for taking notes during this morning’s final rehearsal.
The end-of-October chill is in full force, and the temps dropped further this morning. Cold enough to fog our breath while we were running play lines. And yard lines.
“Speaking of killing it,” Loren says. “Our girl really stepped up, didn’t she? Like, all the way up.”
Our girl.
“She sure did.”
“Actually, you both stepped up,” Loren adds, and my chest expands at the praise. Not so much for what her words indicate about me. But for the volumes they speak about how Sayla feels about us now. Which is to say a whole lot different than last month.
Sayla blows her whistle and calls the team over.
And by that, I mean the group of theater kids in borrowed uniforms. They’ve spent the past hour playing their hearts out, representing the Gray Squirrels in a scrimmage.
Hopefully, they’re also having a little fun in the process. That’s kind of the whole point.
The superintendent and the school board are up in the stands along with the rest of our faculty and students. So is the team from the SACSS.
They’ve been here all week, visiting our classrooms, meeting with department heads. I’m surprised that reading over the two-hundred-page report our team wrote last spring didn’t murder them with boredom.
Today’s the finale of our presentation, though.
The “coup de grace,” as Mr. Wilford put it during our faculty update before school.
That’s when Raneé, our French teacher, pointed out that the phrase “coup de grace” is more commonly used to mean dealing a fatal blow.
For the record, we’re really hoping not to blow today.
Or to suck either.
Sayla and I just want to pass this assessment with flying colors and give our departments the funding they need.
She refuses to tell me what her plan is, though.
She claims it will be better if I don’t know.
More impactful in the moment. And maybe she’s right. In any case, I’ve decided to trust her.
The woman’s earned that by trusting me back.
“She makes me stupidly happy,” I tell Loren, a warmth spreading behind my ribs. “For the first time in a long time.”
“On that note.” Loren nods at the field where Sayla is hooting and hollering at the team, clapping and jumping up and down. “I get the feeling she might be happy for the first time ever.”
I’m quiet for a beat, listening to the cheers from the crowd behind me, soaking up this moment we’ve worked so hard for. But also fighting back the pinch of fear in my chest. Caring about someone as much as I care for Sayla wasn’t on my radar. In fact, I spent the past twenty years keeping it off.
Loren nudges my shoulder. “What’s with the face?”
Huh. I hadn’t realized I was making one.
My gut reaction is always to deflect, so I almost brush off the question.
But these days, thanks to Sayla, I’m trying to be more open.
More real. More myself. For decades, I played the clown for my family and the silly charmer around school.
But that just kept people at a distance.
I wasn’t showing anyone the man underneath.
“The truth is,” I say, squinting out at the field, “I can’t imagine losing her now. And I know this shift probably looks like it’s happening too fast, but I’ve known Sayla for years. So we didn’t start out as strangers.”
“You can say that again.” Loren smirks. “You started as her archenemy.”
“Heh.”
“But I get it,” Loren says. “Sayla’s the best, and I’m glad you’re seeing that side of her now. I’m glad she’s finally seeing it, too.”
“Oh, I see it all right. When I’m around her, I feel this sense of peace and contentment, you know? Like, I can’t relax if she isn’t with me. I think I’m already addicted to her.”
Loren narrows her eyes. “But you can’t talk her out of going to Carolina Arts if that’s what she wants, Dex. I won’t either, as much as I hope she sticks around.”
My guts twinge. “You think she’ll end up leaving?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Loren admits. “But the decision might depend on what happens with the grant.”
“I want to do right by her,” I say, “but I can’t imagine letting her go now. I just got to know her. To need her.”
Loren stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jacket.
“The thing is, Sayla can’t be responsible for your happiness, Dex.
And you aren’t responsible for hers. That kind of pressure isn’t healthy for anyone.
The peace and contentment you talked about have to come from inside you, first. That’s when you’ll be able to bring your best self to her. ”
“So.” I take a beat. “First happiness in yourself. Then with someone else?”
“Exactly.”
I let out a laugh. “How did you get to be so wise, huh?”
“Trust me.” She snorts. “I’m still pretty dumb when it comes to my own life.”
“Ah, come on. Your future’s nothing but bright. Engaged to a doctor. Great job.” I bump her elbow. “New friends who are pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.”
“So the silly charmer and I are officially friends now,” she says.
“I’d like to think so.”
“Good. I was on your side from the beginning, you know. I told her you were a babe. Like Zac Efron. The bearded one.”
“I’ll take it,” I say.
“But I’ll always be Team Sayla.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
After the theater kids celebrate their glorious tie game with traditional post-game handshake on the fifty-yard line, the announcer directs everyone’s attention to the enormous stage taking up all the real estate of the end zone.
That’s where the football players are set to perform their scene from Romeo and Juliet.
While the orchestra starts up the score midfield, the entire team jogs out from under the bleachers and up onto the stage.
They’re wearing vintage costumes that, I’ve been told, resemble clothing authentic to Verona, Italy, during the Renaissance.
The players quickly assemble into their formations to act out the Capulets’ masquerade ball.
As the acting performing arts director, I’ve got my fingers crossed their efforts will hold up to the theater kids’ ball playing.
And good news: The play goes even more spectacularly than I hoped.
To be clear, this isn’t about beating Sayla. Our group alone isn’t any better than hers is. We’re way worse, actually. We’ve got guys tripping over each other while they dance, the main characters bungle multiple lines, and the action pauses for more than one bout of uncontrollable laughter.
But ultimately, the play succeeds because students representing all parts of Stony Peak join in. And by the end, the event becomes one big collaboration.
Just like we’d planned.
Our scene started out like a traditional Shakespeare play, literally, since all the actors were male, and that’s how things rolled back in the day.
Not just at The Globe Theater. But all the plays.
(Sayla taught me that.) Midway through the masquerade ball, however, other students from various clubs start trickling onto the stage.
Sign language.
Mathletes.
Gamers.
Ornithology.
Then the theater kids join in, still wearing the football players’ jerseys.
Our dance team takes their spots on the grass in front of the stage.
The marching band splits up to assemble on either side.
Even the choir comes out in their robes to sing some old song from the 14th century.
A madrigal, apparently. And as the grand finale, more than a hundred kids representing Stony Peak High perform “Steal My Girl,” by One Direction.
Unironically. Or ironically. Depending on who you ask.
Afterward, we all transition into the school’s alma mater, the band and orchestra playing at the same time, and everyone sings together. Led by yours truly. With an actual microphone. On a stage. In public. Of course Sayla’s there to walk me through the whole process, step by step. She’s amazing.
We’re amazing together.
And in the end, as the crowd gives us all a standing ovation, I can’t help checking the stands for the familiar faces I know will be here.
Of course my parents showed up. And Kendal came with the kids, too.
Everyone else had to be at work, but she’s taking video to save for posterity, as she put it.
This means proof exists now of me singing a boy band song in public.
Forever. But I don’t care. Because I’m doing this with Sayla. I’m for her.
Always.
As soon as we finish belting out the Stony Peak alma mater, while everyone else is still applauding, Sayla drags me and the microphone over to the center of the track right in front of the stands.
“Hey there, Gray Squirrels!” she calls out, and everyone in the stadium erupts in waves and cheers.
“You all did a fantastic job today,” she continues, “and I sure hope the school board, Superintendent Dewey, and the Southern Accreditation Committee for Secondary Schools are impressed by what we’ve achieved.
” She pauses for a moment while the people in the stands applaud again.
Then she turns to the students. “By what you’ve achieved, I mean.
We Gray Squirrels may be the underdogs of the Mountain Valley School District, but we have just as much pride as the Harvest High Bobcats.
And we deserve just as many accolades. Both schools are worthy.
And we Squirrels don’t give up when the odds are stacked against us.
We keep fighting.” She shifts her attention back to the stands where our VIPs sit.
“We’re fighting now for another four-year accreditation.
And I’d like to think we’ve earned that this week.
” More cheers and applause. The energy is palpable.
“But there’s something else we’ve been fighting over these days, not fighting for,” she says.
“Mr. Michaels and I have been pitted against each other, trying to win a grant we were told only one of our departments could get. But the truth is, both the performing arts department and athletics need funding for important renovations. And I’m not trying to put anyone on the spot today, Dr. Dewey—” She lets out a shaky laugh.
“Or maybe I am. But our performance today wasn’t just so the accreditation committee could see how hard we Gray Squirrels work to collaborate.
We want the district to see this too. When we put our heads together and commit to cooperation, we can achieve anything.
So I’m asking you now, Dr. Dewey, and you, school board members, to figure out a way to recognize our worth.
The solution may not be easy, but I’m begging you.
Please don’t divide us. Find a way to fund both our departments.
If we all work together, I believe we can find a way to make this work.
After all, that’s what true collaboration is really about. ”
Sayla turns, her eyes bright and her breaths coming quick. Then she reaches for me, lifting our clasped hands high for everyone to see. “Thank you!” she calls out. And the crowd goes crazy.
So does my heart.
Oh, man.
I’m in love with this woman.