Chapter 5: So Long, Dennis
Principal Tom went through the answer key twice.
Then a third time, because the first two hadn't produced a different result.
He set the key down, picked up his red pen, and wrote A at the top of Mike's exam — the kind of clean, unqualified A that didn't need a plus sign because there was nowhere higher to go.
The test had covered the full sweep of twelfth-grade graduation requirements: algebra, geometry, trigonometry, biology, chemistry, physics, American history, world history. The works. Mike had missed two points on a trick question in the history section that Tom was fairly certain most of his actual seniors would have missed too.
Tom set the pen down and looked at the boy sitting across from him with the relaxed posture of someone who had found the whole exercise mildly interesting.
"Have you ever thought about skipping ahead?" Tom asked. "Going straight into the senior class?"
Mike tilted his head. "No, sir."
"With grades like these, you'd be looking at strong university options by next spring. Full ride territory, potentially."
"I appreciate that," Mike said. "But I'd like to finish out the full four years. I don't want to rush it."
Tom studied him for a moment, then nodded. He wasn't truly disappointed — a student like Mike in his school for two years versus one was still a net positive, and the state funding formula didn't much care how long it took to produce exceptional graduates. It just cared that they existed.
Medford already had Sheldon Cooper on the books, which had done wonders for the school's academic profile. Adding Mike Quinn to that picture was — well. Tom allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction before reassembling his professional expression.
"Fair enough," he said, standing and extending his hand for what he'd intended to be a congratulatory high five. "Welcome to Medford High, Mike. We're glad to have you."
Mike shook his hand instead, politely, leaving Tom to smoothly convert the gesture as though that had always been the plan.
Dennis, to his credit, looked at the ceiling.
Tom signed off on the enrollment paperwork, shuffled it into a folder, and reached for his desk phone.
"Ms. Victoria? Could you come down to the office? I've got a new eleventh-grader who needs an escort to class."
He hung up and turned back to Mike. "Ms. Victoria is your homeroom teacher. Good educator — unconventional, but good. Incidentally, young Sheldon Cooper is in her class too." He glanced at Connie with a knowing look. "Something tells me you two will get along."
Mike, who had his own reasons for keeping Sheldon close, said nothing and smiled politely.
School had been in session for two weeks. As transfers went, Mike was late — not catastrophically, but enough that there'd be a settling-in period. He'd been mentally drafting a plan to ask for the afternoon off — he'd wanted one last dinner with Dennis before the man headed back to Minnesota.
He caught Dennis's eye across the room.
Dennis gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Mike swallowed the request.
A few minutes passed. Then the office door opened and Ms. Victoria walked in.
She was tall, angular, somewhere in her mid-forties, wearing a blazer that had last been fashionable during the Clinton administration. She had the posture of someone who had strong opinions about posture, and the kind of face that suggested she'd made peace with finding most things mildly disappointing.
She looked at Mike.
Something in her expression tightened — not hostility, exactly. More like a decision being made and filed away.
"New student?" she said, to the room rather than to Mike specifically.
"This is Mike Quinn," Tom said, with the practiced diplomacy of a man who'd navigated Victoria's personality for years. "Sharp kid. You'll like having him."
Victoria looked at the principal the way a person looks at someone who has just said something debatable. Then she looked at Mike.
"You can still make the last period if we leave now," she said. "Come on."
She turned and walked out without waiting for an answer.
Tom gave Mike a look that said that's just how she is and offered a small, sympathetic shrug.
Out in the hallway, Victoria had stopped a short distance from the office door, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the middle distance — waiting, or thinking, or possibly both.
Dennis cleared his throat. "Ms. Victoria? Would you mind if I had a few minutes with Mike before he heads to class?"
Victoria didn't look at him. Didn't respond at all, really — just stood there like a closed door.
Dennis waited. Nothing came back.
He decided to interpret the silence as permission and steered Mike a few feet down the hall.
Connie drifted up beside them, glancing back at Victoria, and lowered her voice. "Sheldon mentioned his homeroom teacher's a big feminist. Like, committed." She paused. "Might explain the whole..." She made a vague gesture in Dennis's direction.
It was, Mike noted, a characteristically Connie move — equal parts gossip and genuine helpfulness.
"I'm heading out to the car," she announced at full volume, already moving toward the exit. "Dennis, if you want a ride back to wherever your rental is, you've got about five minutes!" She waved over her shoulder without looking back, departing with the easy confidence of a woman who had somewhere to be.
Dennis watched her go with the expression of a man who had genuinely enjoyed meeting her.
He turned back to Mike.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
"She's going to be good for you," Dennis said finally. "Connie. The Coopers too — George and Mary are solid people." He paused. "I feel okay leaving. That's not nothing."
"You heading out today?" Mike asked.
"Noon, probably. I've got a full caseload waiting back in St. Paul, and—" He stopped. Smiled a little. "And Kelly's been alone all week."
Mike had been in Dennis's life for four years. Dennis had shown up in the immediate aftermath of the worst thing that had ever happened to Mike, had done the paperwork and made the calls and driven the rusted RV and complained about all of it the entire time, and had never once actually considered not doing it.
That counted for something. Mike knew it counted for something.
"Tell Aunt Kelly I said hi," Mike said. Then: "And — thanks, Dennis. Really."
Dennis looked at him for a second. Then he pulled him into a hug — the kind that didn't overthink itself.
"You've got my number," he said, into Mike's shoulder. "Anything comes up — anything at all — you call me. Doesn't matter what time."
"I know," Mike said.
Dennis stepped back. Looked at him the way people look at something they're about to stop being able to see.
"Take care of yourself, kid."
He turned and headed for the exit, hands in his pockets, tie still slightly crooked from the car ride.
Mike watched him go.
Down the hall, Ms. Victoria was still standing with her arms crossed, apparently having decided that time was a resource that belonged to her.
Mike took one more second.
Then he picked up his bag and walked toward her.
(End of Chapter 5)
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