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“Nice,” I say. It’s not all that surprising.
“Any questions?” The professor asks.
I raise my hand, curiosity pushing me to ask something I probably shouldn’t. But after the last few weeks, shit, after the last few months, I need something good to come from this place.
“Yes, miss…” he lets the word linger.
“Love,” I say. “Harper Love.”
He nods. “Yes, Miss Love?”
“Are there any plants here that aren’t scary and deadly?” I ask.
The class chuckles around me and to my surprise, Professor Maxim smiles. He has a warmth lacking in every other teacher at this school. He reminds me of a television grandfather. Like he’s going to lay down some really great advice any second.
“All the plants in here are wonderful in their own way. Even if they might come across as terrible or used for terrible things,” he says. “Take the bleeding thistle, for example. If you were to touch the thorns, you’ll end up in a deep sleep for the next few years. But if we harvest it on the new moon and boil it for six hours with rosemary and yellow flora, we end up with a tonic that can be used to treat even the most severe infections.”
“That’s really cool,” I say.
“It is cool, isn’t it?” he agrees.
“Ms. Love has inspired me,” he says. “Let’s work on some lessscaryplants today. Usually, I begin with the dangerous plants to teach you to appreciate the garden. But I think it’s worth noting why we do the work in here that we do. Not only can we create poisons and deadly potions, we can also heal, treat, and soothe.”
“I’d rather learn how to make the deadly stuff,” Jamie, a lower demon who was in my history class last semester says.
“I’m sure you would,” someone else says.
I ignore it but make a mental note to avoid Jamie from now on.
Professor Maxim has us pair off then assigns each pair to a specific plant. Corbin and I are assigned the task of harvesting leaves off a yamata plant. It’s a water plant growing in a small stream along the back of the greenhouse. Long stalks that resemble cattails are covered in lean green leaves.
Once the rest of the class is working on their own plants, Corbin and I are alone in our little corner.
“How was your break?” he asks.
“It was good, thanks,” I say. “How was yours?”
“Long,” he says. “And lonely.”
He’s smirking at me and flutters fill my chest. Why have I been holding out with him? There’s been chemistry between us since we first met, but I’ve been so afraid to ruin everything. He’s the real deal. He’s sweet and kind and wonderful. He’s everything I never thought I deserved.
“You had your brother with you,” I tease.
“He doesn’t do it for me,” he jokes.
I laugh as I set the leaf I just trimmed into our pile.
“There’s a party Friday. Come with me,” he says.
I turn back to him. I want to. I want him. Everything about him. But the guilt weighs heavy in the pit of my stomach. I sigh and set the blade down. “Corbin, I have to tell you something.”
His face falls. “Is it that you don’t have feelings for me?”
“No, of course not,” I say.
He smiles. “Then I don’t really care what it is.”
“But you do,” I say. “I’m a terrible person.”
