Page 115 of Fall Fake-Out

“Want to talk about it?”

My eyes meet hers, and all I see is a safe place to land. “When my dad was principal, everyone respected him. Teachers. Parents. Students. The board. Jex. Everybody.”

“That’s a hard shadow to stand in.”

“Yeah, especially when most people think I got the job because of him. But I worked for it. I wanted it. I care about that school.”

“I know you do.” Her answer is immediate.

“But my dad has this way of making me feel like I’m always one wrong move away from proving all my critics right. He still sees me as an irresponsible kid who will never measure up.”

Ari stops walking. I take two more steps before realizing she’s not beside me.

When I turn, she’s staring at me. “Your dad is wrong about you.”

I try to smile and brush it off. “You don’t have to⁠—”

“No, Wade, I’m serious.” Her voice is firm now. “I keep telling you this, but you’re a great principal. You show up for students who don’t have anyone else showing up for them. You know which kids need extra attention without making them feel like projects. I see the way you’ve helped teachers when they’re struggling with their classes. You’re handling Ashtyn carefully, even though the whole situation is unfair to you. And the students trust you. They don’t just like you because you’re fun. They trust and respect you because you care, and they can feel it.”

I stare at her as the wind moves between us. A drop of rain hits my cheek, but I barely notice because Ari is defending the part of me I’ve been trying to prove for years, and it means more to me than I know how to say.

Her belief in me makes me believe in myself too.

“Thank you,” I say quietly.

Her expression softens. “I meant everything I said.”

That’s the thing. I know she means it.

A few more drops hit the leaves around us.

Then another.

Then another.

Ari looks up. “It’s raining.”

A crack of thunder rolls somewhere in the distance.

I look toward the old farmhouse. “Come on.” I tug on her hand as I run toward it.

We sprint across the overgrown grass, dodging fallen branches and low-hanging apple limbs. Ari laughs behind me, breathless, as we make it to the porch. The old steps creak under our weight as we approach the door. I yank on the handle, and it opens.

We stumble through the doorway, laughing. I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight. The beam cuts through the dark, revealing peeling wallpaper, warped wood floors, and old furniture covered in sheets.

Ari presses closer to me. “This is how horror movies start.”

Nothing about her moving closer to me feels like a horror movie. I squeeze her hand just once. “Do you trust me?”

She smiles back at me. “I’m starting to.”

I’m starting to trust her too, and that scares me.

I swipe the light across the entryway. We move carefully through the hallway and into a large room off to the left. The house groans around us with each step. A massive brick fireplace takes up most of one wall, dark and cold and still somehow beautiful.

Moonlight slips through the broken clouds and spills through the windows, turning the rain into silver lines against the glass. I set my phone on the mantel with the flashlight facing upward, throwing soft light across the room.

Ari walks toward the fireplace, brushing her fingers over the brick. “I like it here.”