Page 22 of The Perils of Pretending
Sadie shakes her head and in a dry tone says, “We started dating after my niece’s first birthday party when you asked me out.”
I elbow her arm. “Oh yeah, Amelia’s party was a blast. I didn’t know kids could hate cake so much. By the way, don’t take what I say so seriously. I’m joking.”
“Of course you are. Are you ever serious?”
If only she saw me at work dealing with behavior students, or worse, their parents. Being lighthearted and making other people laugh balances the hard parts of my job. “More than I’d like to be.”
The captain’s voice comes over the speaker, stating that we’re next to take off. I push my backpack all the way under the seat in front of me.
“What does that mean?” Sadie asks.
“Have you spent time with teenagers lately?”
“No.”
“They can be difficult. To say the least. They’re a hoot and make me laugh and I beam with pride like a father when they excel, but the discipline gets tiring.”
“Why did you choose to become a principal if you don’t like it?”
I raise my brows, taken aback by her tone. “I never said I didn’t like it. Hard, yes. But I love kids. I always enjoyed school growing up and knew in eighth grade that I wanted to teach. And seeing my studentsgrow, show compassion, understand what they’re learning, and create their dreams is rewarding. I wanted to help teachers and students come together to shape the future in the best way possible—that’s why I went into administration.”
“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s actually sweet.”
I probably should take her animosity toward me as an insult, but it feels more like a challenge to prove to Sadie I’m not as awful as she thinks I am. “Does it pain you to admit it?”
“Like a burn after a day at the beach with no sunblock.”
I wince. “Ouch. I’m proud of you for fighting through it. You’re one brave girlfriend.”
She smacks my arm with the back of her hand. “Don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.” She bobs her head. “Would you rather one of your students get accepted into an Ivy League college with a full-ride scholarship, but they’re rude to people, or someone not make it into a four-year college, but they’re one of the nicest, most compassionate people you know?”
Easy. “The second one. I want all my students to excel in all aspects of life, but if you’re going to be a jerk to people, I don’t care about your accomplishments.”
“Congratulations, you passed the test. Next question. Any allergies?”
“Thankfully, no.”
Her head bobbles back and forth. I’m guessing it’s to figure out which question out of the hundreds swirling in her mind to ask me next. “Surgeries?”
I touch my throat. “I had my tonsils removed when I was twelve. Painful experience. I don’t recommend it.” My throat was sore for two weeks after my surgery. When I got home from the hospital, I let saliva run down my chin rather than swallow because it hurt so much. It was gross. “What about you?” She keeps forgetting to answer the questions herself.
“No to both.”
Before she can ask me anything else, I get out a question of my own. “What do you like to do for fun?”
“I love trying new restaurants, especially ethnic food. Ice skating and playing the piano.”
Ice skating. Interesting. “Have you ever played hockey before?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’m a figure skater.”
Her answers are getting better and better. “How would you feel about a friendly game when we get back home?”
Sadie laughs. “You think I want to play against you? The person who grew up in Alaska and most likely lived and breathed the sport? No, thank you.”
