Duke’s effect on Adam’s life flashed before my eyes. Adam Nguyen read that book on the sofa of his sleek apartment during a long Covid lockdown when the only things keeping him from losing his mind were the books and movies that distracted him from the relentless bad news in the real world. Something about that moment, that line, rang a bell deep inside his heart.
His boss had offered him a promotion—twice the money but triple the work, and Adam had never liked the job anyway. He wasn’t even sure what they did sometimes or why they did it. Most days felt like a game of Monopoly, moving play money around a game board, killing time, helping no one.
His parents would be thrilled when he told them about the job offer and the raise. So many people struggling? Yet here he was being offered a promotion?
But what he wanted, what he dreamed when he let himself dare to dream…was to go back to school to become a teacher. A sixth-grade teacher, because that’s when the kids got to read really good books likeA Wrinkle in Time, The Giver,and his personal favorite, Louis Sachar’sHoles.
And it’s when they start learning interesting history like the sinking of theTitanicand World War II.
His own sixth-grade literature teacher, Mr. Jordan, had been his favorite. When he’d asked Adam what he wanted to be when he grewup, Adam had said a teacher, not an “Assistant VP of Data and Analytics.”
But he can’t be a teacher. It would pay almost nothing compared to what he was making. It would take him years to get his teaching certification. He’d be thirty-five by the time he could have his own classroom, even if he started the next day. And he’d have to work part-time to pay the bills while going to school. Nights and weekends. Huge sacrifice, and all for what? Useless joy? Wasteful happiness? Selfish personal fulfillment?
Personal fulfillment, after all, wouldn’t pay the bills.
So of course, he would take the promotion and the money.
But he could finish the book. And he did. Then he read the next Duke of Chicago book, then the next.
Shot, stabbed, chased, falsely accused of terrible crimes…No matter what happened to Duke, he stayed endlessly polite, endlessly charming, endlessly hopeful. He never gave up, never gave in. His mother was furious at him. His peers, the aristocracy, thought he’d gone mad. He’d given up the promotion, the money, the respect of his family and countrymen…
And all for what? Happiness. Purpose. All because he’d had the courage to say those three words. Those three magical words…
Maybe if it worked for Duke, it would work for him?
After finishing the third Duke of Chicago book, Adam wrote his boss back an email of three little words: “No thank you.”
The next day he showered, shaved, and enrolled in Western Oregon University’s online teaching program.
To pay for it, he worked two jobs, including the weekend security guard job at the Enchanted Forest Park.
He quit drinking, quit doom-scrolling. Now that he was taking care of his dreams, he’d somehow, almost by accident, started taking care of himself.
“Magic” isn’t a strong enough word for that. This goes way beyond your average storycraft. No, this is alchemy, turning base things into gold.
It had happened to me too. It happens to most of us if we’re lucky enough. The fictional characters we love stamp their names on ourhearts. They show us how to fight our battles, how to change, how to make it to page three hundred a different person than we were on page one.
But because they’re fictional, there’s no way to ever thank them for the good turn they did for us, for showing us when we needed it most what a hero looks like.
Except in these rare moments when a reader meets his hero on a misty autumn day in a strange Enchanted Forest.
I reached out, took Duke’s other hand in mine, and let the vision of Adam’s past flow from me into him. Duke saw what I had seen, the change he’d wrought in this young man’s life. Real change from a fictional detective.
“Have we…” Adam asked, brow furrowing. “Have we met before?”
“Unfortunately not,” Duke said. “I’d remember meeting a good man like you.”
“Oh, sure. I could’ve sworn…”
Duke patted him on the shoulder, and Adam finally released his hand.
We started to leave through the front gates, and Duke turned back one more time.
“Thank you again,” he said to Adam, who still wore a look of awe and wonder in his eyes.
Then Adam said to Duke’s face what every reader who ever loved a storybook hero wanted to say to their hero’s face.
“No,” Adam said, still dazed and dazzled by his brush with magic, “thankyou.”
