How can I tell them that she and I have come a long way since the time I once despised her? That I’ve found myself opening up to her in a way I would never have anticipated. That she’s not the headline-seeking hack I was so convinced she was.
That I can’t stop myself fancying the pants off her—and more, developing some real feelings for her.
“Fabiana has been employed by my father to show the country who I really am,” I say.
“Like a soldier behind enemy lines?” Rocco asks.
Fabiana’s gaze captures mine. “Something like that.”
Toffee scrambles over to us, and I lean down to make afuss of her. Dogs are so much more straightforward than women, particularly the one currently chatting with my suspicious, loyal mates.
A low rumbling grabs my attention, and I look down the driveway to see an approaching bus.
“Are they about to arrive, sir?” Pippa asks, arriving at our group, and I introduce her to the men.
“We’re about to be swarmed by a bunch of hormonal teens,” Rocco announces, and I scoop Toffee up in my arms.
“Brace yourselves,” Dante says.
Fabiana shields her eyes from the sun with her hand. “How many teens are there on that bus exactly?”
“About twenty, give or take,” I reply.
As the bus rounds the fountain, we can hear the laughter and good-natured shouting through the open windows.
“Sounds more like fifty,” she says.
The bus comes to a stop, and the kids pour off the moment the doors creak open, spilling out onto the gravel driveway with backpacks on their backs, greeting Dante, Rocco, and me with high fives.
At first, Fabiana holds back as I chat and joke with the familiar faces. Then, to my surprise, she approaches a group and introduces herself, asking them about the program. She looks totally at ease in a group of strangers—teenage strangers at that.
Is there anything that fazes this woman?
“Yo, Max! When are we going to start the obstacle course challenge?” asks Dean, a sixteen-year-old who has been part of the program since its inception.
That’s one of the things I love about the teenagers on this program. They couldn't care less about my title. I muck in with them on all their activities, helping them out,giving them advice, sometimes showing them hownotto do it.
“Give us a minute. You only just got here,” I reply with a laugh.
Over the years, Dean has gradually morphed from surly and disengaged, his top lip permanently curled upwards in distaste, to one of the leaders of the group. It's been an absolute privilege to play a small part in his transformation.
I remember when he arrived at our first session, with arms crossed and eyes fixed on his shoes, his shoulders tight. He radiated teenage resentment. From his file, I knew it was the kind of hostility that came from too many adults letting him down. His social worker had described him as “challenging”, which I worked out is code for a kid who learned to expect disappointment and closed himself off as protection against the world.
But something shifted during a rock-climbing session that first summer. He smiled. Not in a sarcastic way, but a real, genuine smile. It was the start of a shift, and one that blossomed over the following months.
Now he's the one organizing equipment before sessions start and explaining knot techniques to newer participants with the same care Rocco had once given him.
Many of the teens here were volunteered by teachers or social workers, initially attending with significantly more reluctance than enthusiasm. But they needed a place where they could be themselves, where they could get involved in activities they otherwise wouldn't have access to. Where they could build friendships, and most importantly, build their self-worth.
“I'm glad you mentioned the obstacle challenge, Dean, because you and Daria can help set it up on the back lawnright now,” Dante says, and the already excited group begins to buzz with enthusiasm.
A couple of the kids groan.
“I get it. Obstacle courses aren’t for everyone, but it’s part of what we do here, so you need to at least give it a shot,” I say.
“Don’t worry, Max. I’ve got it,” Dean says. He gestures for the groaners to follow him, which they do with the same level of reluctance Dean himself showed that first year.
As we make our way around the house to the back lawn, Fabiana falls into step with me. “Can you tell me a little about the kids in the program?” she asks.
