Page 7 of Evergreen

“It’s going to be okay, professor,” I said, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll get this place fixed up in no time.”

She let out a long sigh. “I’m glad you’re feeling so positive about this,” she replied, looking over the devastation. “But between you and me, I was an inch away from killing the kid that did this.”

“You wouldn’t do that professor. You’re too good for that.” I knelt down, digging my fingers through the ash and snow until they met soil. Warmth flowed through me into the ground as my dryad magic spread from my fingertips. “The earth is still alive and many of the plants are still okay. Damaged, but very much alive. I suspect we’ll be able to save most of them.”

The professor watched me work, her expression slowly shifting from fury to something almost contemplative. I could feel the roots beneath the ash, the delicate network of life that had survived the inferno. Most of them were scorched, their outer layers blackened and brittle, but the core remained intact. There was hope here. Real, tangible hope.

“Your senior project,” Professor Paulson said quietly. “The specimens you were cultivating. Some of them were in here, weren’t they?”

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. My throat had gone tight the moment I’d stepped into the greenhouse and seen what was left of my college career’s work. Months of careful cultivation, of coaxing rare plants to thrive in controlled conditions, of documentation and research. All of it was reduced to ash and twisted metal.

“Most of them,” I finally managed, my voice rough. I pulled my hands back from the soil, leaving golden glowing handprints in the ash. “The blue moonflowers were in the north section. The silverleaf specimens were along the east wall. And the heartwood cuttings...” I trailed off, unable to finish.

“I’m sorry, Linden,” she said, and I believed her. I could hear the genuine regret in her voice. “I know how much this project meant to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” I replied, standing up and brushing the ash from my jeans. “It was just an accident. A stupid, careless accident, but an accident nonetheless.”

The words came out a little bitter. I hadn’t meant for them to, but they did. That usually wasn’t my style. But today… Today I was feeling a little down.

Before Professor Paulson could respond, I heard footsteps crunching through the snow outside the greenhouse. I glanced toward the entrance just as a small thin figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the gray morning light.

It was him. The witch from the library last night. The one that had been very irritated with me for some reason.

And judging by the way Professor Paulson’s expression hardened, he was exactly who I’d been dreading to see. He was the one that had burned down the conservatory.

“Uh… hi,” he said, not moving from the arched entrance. “I’m here to… help fix this I guess.”

“Fix it?!” Professor Paulson scoffed. “This cannot be fixed, Mr. Reed. You have done untold damage to this institution and⁠—”

I held up my hand, cutting my professor off. “I’ll take it from here Professor,” I said, glancing her way. “If that’s okay with you?”

She took a deep breath, blowing it out through her nose like an angry bull. “Fine. But if he does one damn thing out of line, you tell me so I can have his ass expelled.”

Then, with a huff, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the greenhouse. I watched her go, knowing she just needed some time to cool down. I might’ve lost my senior project, but Professor Paulson had lost several plants that she not only had been cultivating for decades, but that she considered her own children. It was a heavy loss for her and one I hoped to ease with a lot of dryad magic and an even larger amount of time and effort.

“I didn’t get your name last night,” I said, taking a step forward. “Before you told me to fuck off.”

Realization dawned, and his face went through several emotions in the span of a second or two. He probably expected me to scream at him or treat him poorly. But that wasn’t really my style. I gave people the benefit of the doubt until they left me no other choice. And this guy… I didn’t get the feeling he was bad, just that he was… still figuring it all out I guess.

“Cass,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft this morning. “My name is Cass Reed.”

I nodded, taking in the way he was standing there in the doorway like he was terrified to come inside. His dark hair was messy, and he had that same irritated energy from last night, but there was something else there too. Something that looked almost like... shame maybe?

“Well, Cass,” I said, gesturing around at the wreckage. “Welcome to your new home for the next four months.”

He flinched at that, and I felt a small pang of guilt. I hadn’t meant to sound quite so harsh, but the words had come out, anyway. It was hard to be chipper when I was looking at the charred remains of my home away from home.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Cass said, and he actually sounded like he meant it. “I was drunk and stupid and⁠—”

“You were drunk and stupid and you called down lightning from the sky,” I finished for him, trying to keep my voice level. “I know. Professor Paulson already told me the whole story.”

I could see him wince at that. Good. He deserved to feel bad about what he’d done. But I also knew, from experience, that guilt alone wouldn’t fix anything. We were going to have to work together if we wanted to salvage what was left of this place.

“So here’s the deal, Sparks,” I said, and I watched his eyebrow twitch at the nickname. “I’m going to teach you how to help me rebuild this greenhouse. We’re going to start with the debris, then we’ll move on to structural repairs. After that, we’ll replant what we can save and see what grows. It’s going to be hard work, and it’s going to take a long time.”

“Sparks?” he repeated, his voice tight.

“Electricity,” I said with a shrug. “You literally called down lightning. Sparks seems appropriate.”