Chapter 4 - The Ripple Effect at School
By Monday morning, the news had already begun to ripple through Westbridge High School, though not in the way Russ had anticipated. In a small town where everyone knew everyone’s business, shop teachers and local mechanics tended to share mutual acquaintances. Word that Russ had suddenly inherited full-time, round-the-clock custody of two pampered teenagers without a dime of stepparent subsidy had spread through the local garages and coffee shops before first period even started.
I stood in the dusty, aromatic sanctuary of my wood and metal shop classroom, watching my third-period students measure lengths of aluminum tubing for the regional robotics chassis. The rhythmic whine of a band saw and the sharp scent of ozone and metal filings grounded me.
The heavy fire door at the back of the shop swung open, and the principal, Mr. Harrison, walked in, his face etched with concern. He motioned me over to the corner near the tool crib, away from the roaring machinery.
“Wade,” Harrison murmured, keeping his voice low. “I heard some wild rumors this morning from the front office. Something about Colby and Paige withdrawing from their classes to transfer districts, and your wife moving out?”
“It’s true, Tom,” I said, wiping my grease-stained hands on a shop rag. “Nora and I are separating, and the kids went back to their biological father.”
Harrison sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, man. I know how much heart you put into raising those kids. But… there’s more. Colby’s guidance counselor just called me. Without your insurance and authorization, his dual-enrollment credits at the community college got dropped for non-payment. And Paige’s dance academy director called too—she said your credit card was removed, and Paige tried to pay with a debit card that bounced.”
“She tried to use Russ’s card, I assume?” I asked.
“Russ doesn’t have a card on file with them,” Harrison said grimly. “Apparently, Russ went down to the studio this morning demanding they let her dance for free because she’s a ‘local prodigy.’ The director threw him out.”
I nodded slowly, feeling no satisfaction, only a profound, heavy emptiness. “Karma’s a fast learner, Tom.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Harrison asked, clapping a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Ivy doing alright?”
“Ivy is resilient. She’s got her coloring books, her mother’s out of the house, and the quiet she deserves. We’re going to be just fine.”
As Harrison walked back out toward the administration building, the shop door chimed again. This time, it wasn't the principal.
Paige stood in the doorway, wearing her school uniform skirt, her hair slightly unbrushed, and her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Gone was the arrogant, sneering teenager who had rolled her eyes at my kitchen table. She looked small, frightened, and completely out of her depth.
She walked hesitantly across the concrete floor, stepping around stacks of lumber until she stopped a few feet from my workbench.
“Mr. Hollis… Wade,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
I didn’t stop filing down the rough edge of the aluminum bracket. “Class is in session, Paige. If you’re not enrolled in my shop elective, you’re not supposed to be in this wing.”
“They dropped me from the dance team,” she blurted out, tears spilling over her lashes. “Regionals are in three weeks. All my costumes, all the hotel bookings for Chicago—they’re all non-refundable. Dad… Russ said he didn’t have the money. He told me to come ask you to pay for it just this once.”
I stopped filing. I laid the metal file down on the workbench and turned to look straight into her eyes.
May you like
“Paige,” I said, my voice entirely devoid of anger, which seemed to terrify her more than shouting would have. “You told me very clearly on Friday night who you answer to. You told me I was just your mom’s husband. Strangers don’t pay dance fees. Strangers don’t fund Chicago trips. You have biological parents now. Go ask them.”
***
