Page 4 of Evergreen Academy (Society of Magical Botanists #1)

Chapter Three

“ O kay, everyone, now that we’ve had a few sessions getting comfortable with the microscopes, we’re going to look at some live plants today.” Professor East indicated the screen where his microscope view was being projected on the whiteboard.

We were in our second week of Biology, and our instructor had grown on me already. He was kind, with a pinch of humor that occasionally went over our heads.

“Your goal is to get your view to look something like this. All the materials are in the back of the room. Work through your lab instructions, and ask your neighbor if you get stuck. I’ll be circulating to check on your progress.”

There were sounds of chairs screeching across the laminated floor as the students in my biology class began to rise to gather their supplies, and I joined them. When I returned to the lab bench, Maci was already looking through her microscope's eyepiece and adjusting the focus .

I studied my plant for a moment before slicing off a piece to put on the wet mount slide. The elodea was a tiny green water plant that looked like a miniature version of sea kelp and was wet to the touch. I made a quick macro-level sketch on my lab sheet then prepped the plant for the slide.

After switching on the microscope’s light, I focused the lens, taking the view from something blurry and abstract to a clear shot of the elodea’s cells. The long, rectangular cells came into focus, and I frowned, glancing up at Professor East’s projection on the whiteboard.

I reset the lens and zoomed in again, my eyebrows pulling together.

Professor East’s screen showed a bunch of green circles piled up inside clear shapes like peas in a pod.

The green circles were the chloroplasts—that much was clear.

But they were moving along tiny strings.

I closed my eyes, feeling the fatigue from focusing through the microscope already, and then looked through the viewfinder again.

The movement of the green dots along the strings was still there.

I raised my hand. Professor East noticed and made his way around the room toward me. I studied the cells through my eyepiece one more time. “Yes, Ms. Whelan?” He glanced at my lab paper.

“I see some strings in my cells. What are they?”

Professor East nodded, moving toward the microscope as I leaned out of the way. “These elodea were collected fresh from the water, so it’s common for other things, both biotic and abiotic, to show up under the microscope. Let’s take a look.”

He leaned over and looked through the eyepiece. “Hmm. I’m not seeing anything unusual here. Maybe it moved out of the view. ”

“The chloroplasts seem to be moving along the strings.” I thought I saw Professor East still at my words. But then he pulled back and motioned for me to look into the microscope again.

“Describe what you’re seeing,” he said.

“They are extremely thin, like little hairs.” I looked more closely. “And they seem to be flowing with some kind of pattern. It’s like the chloroplasts are clinging to them and being moved along.”

I leaned away from the microscope to let Professor East look again, but he was studying me, expression intent. I motioned to the microscope again, wanting him to confirm what I was seeing. I wasn’t sure why, but the movement intrigued me.

But Professor East didn’t look through my eyepiece again. Finally, he spoke. “Ah, yes, those. They are just a bit of debris. No need to include it in your lab report. Just sketch the chloroplasts and cell walls.”

Professor East turned then and went to help another student who was raising their hand. I frowned, but I did as Professor East had suggested.

I fished out my colored pencils and got to work sketching the cells. Afterward, I continued to follow the instructions on the lab sheet and was surprised when I noticed my classmates cleaning up around me.

By the time I’d finished, I was the only one remaining in the classroom. Maci was outside the door, waiting for me. I slipped my lab sheet onto the stack on Professor East’s desk, and he turned to me from his laptop. “Do you have another class right now?”

I nodded .

Professor East flicked through my lab report, eyes scanning the pages. “Nice drawings,” he said, and I felt my chest warm slightly, as it always did when someone complimented my art. “Can you come see me in my office before you leave campus today? Do you know where it is?”

I blinked. I knew where his office was—on the second level of the science building—but I had no idea why he wanted to see me. “Um, yeah, sure. Professor,” I added quickly, worried my language had been too informal.

A trace of a smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing to worry about, Ms. Whelan. I just want to discuss this lab a little further with you. I may have a research opportunity you can help with.”

I raised my eyebrows. A research opportunity? Wasn’t that the kind of thing students did in upper-division classes? This was my freshman year, and I was at a community college. But I was intrigued and wanted to know more, so I nodded and smiled politely. “Sure. I’m done at noon.”

“See you then.” Professor East turned back toward his laptop, and I took that as my cue to leave.

“What was that about?” The question was out of Maci’s mouth as soon as we stepped out of the science building, preparing to go our separate ways. Her shiny, near-black locks spilled across her face as she turned toward me, eyebrows raised.

“Not sure yet. He said something about a research project.” A sense of interest stirred again, and I felt my heart rate increase ever so slightly as I tried to imagine what the meeting held in store.

“Weird. I didn’t even know they did those here. ”

I shrugged, a lingering feeling that his invitation was related to my lab report gnawing at me. “Me either.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re going to hear him out. Stuff like that is great for your transfer application.”

I smiled. Maci was a great friend for many reasons, and her determination and knowledge about all things “going places in life” was one of them. Who needed an academic advisor when your best friend knew all the transfer requirements from memory?

“Yeah, that’s true. Have a good weekend.”

“Text me how the meeting goes.”

“I will. See you later. Have fun with Jace.” I smiled coyly at her, and she waved me off.

I hurried to Psychology. We were working through the first unit on sensation and perception, which I normally found quite interesting, but I was unable to focus on Professor Tara’s words today. The impending meeting with Professor East had my mind wandering.

I wasn’t used to meeting with instructors one-on-one, so that was slightly intimidating, but I also couldn’t shake the feeling that his request had something to do with what had occurred during the lab that day. Why else would he single me out for a project?

When the class finally ended, I tuned in just in time to look up at the screen and jot down my homework assignment.

Most of my classmates took a picture of the screen, but I preferred to use an old-fashioned notebook.

Maybe because it was another place for me to doodle.

I scribbled quickly as Professor Tara erased the board.

Sure enough, I finished writing the homework assignment and realized I’d been scribbling plant tendrils around the edges of the week. There were a series of leaves sprouting out of the m in September . I quickly cleaned up, preparing myself to return to the science building.

The nerves that had changed target while I hurriedly noted the Psychology homework shifted gears again as I entered the science building and made my way to the second floor, where Professor East’s office was nestled in the corner.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door of Office 213. Professor East called, “Come in,” and I entered. He waved me into the seat across from his desk, and I slipped my backpack off my shoulders and sat.

“How was Psychology?” he asked. I opened my mouth to answer before looking at him in confusion. Had I mentioned that I was going to Psychology after his class?

I shook it off and replied, “It was good. I enjoy that class.”

Professor East nodded. “And how about Biology? What do you think of the class so far?”

Was this a trap? Of course, I wasn’t going to say anything less than flattering about his class. Though, in this case, I didn’t have to lie. “It’s fun. So far, I think it’s my favorite science class I’ve ever taken.”

“Are you planning to take any other science courses?”

Yikes. I was walking a dangerous line. I was planning to take the bare minimum of science required to meet the general education requirements.

Same for math. Those were subjects I had always struggled with during high school.

I intended to pack my schedule with as many art and humanities courses as I could over the next two years and, ideally, keep my grades high enough to be accepted to art school .

I swallowed, not wanting to offend my instructor, who was looking at me kindly. “Just the two that are required for transferring. I plan to major in art, so more than that won’t be needed.”

“Ah, yes. I looked over your lab report and was impressed with your drawings. It’s a valuable skill in a science class.”

I sat up a little straighter and smiled. “Thanks. It’s always been a hobby of mine, and I love when I can apply it to my classes.”

“I think your… skills could be useful in another program I work with. I’m guessing you’re eager to know more about why I asked you here. As I said, there is a research opportunity I think you might be a good fit for.”

Professor East turned toward the microscope that was stationed on his desk. Based on the placement, I had a feeling that it didn’t normally reside there and wondered if he had pulled it out for this meeting.

He quickly confirmed my suspicions when he slid the microscope my way. “Can I have you look at that slide and let me know what you see?”

I bit back my question about what the microscope had to do with the program and bent my head to the eyepiece. The slide was already in focus. “I see plant cells.”

Professor East nodded in my limited peripheral vision, and I took that as a cue to keep going. “There’s movement in the cells. It almost looks like there are cells between some of the cells. They’re more oval-shaped. And it looks like little bubbles are going in and out of them.”

“Could you sketch it for me?” Professor East asked, sliding a piece of paper toward me .

“Can I use my colored pencils?”

“Of course.”

I reached into my backpack and pulled out my favorite pencils then tilted my eyes back to the microscope. I spent the next few minutes sketching what I saw and providing color to highlight distinct features. Once finished, I slid the paper back to my instructor.

He picked it up slowly and scanned the page, his expression guarded. I wasn’t sure what to think. Was this research project he was alluding to in need of someone to draw diagrams?

It wasn’t totally unappealing to be a sketch artist for some more scientifically adept students as an extracurricular assignment, but I still wasn’t sure why that position would be so important or why it hadn’t been filled by an art student already.

Shouldn’t there be a formal application process for that sort of thing?

Professor East put the paper back on the desk and leaned back slightly in his chair, steepling his fingers.

“Thanks for taking the time to do that. I think you could be a good fit for the program. It’s very selective.

Many of the students in it are enrolled concurrently here at the college, and they do very well in their studies.

It is extra work, to be certain, but it will open a lot of doors for you. Ones that would never exist otherwise.”

My mind was racing. A selective program? Like the AP and dual-enrollment courses I’d taken in high school?

Professor East must have seen the confusion on my face because he cleared his throat and continued. “You may know the program as the Evergreen Academy.”