Page 6

Chapter Six

I walked out of my Calculus final, relief melting from my shoulders from one course being fully off my plate.

I had given my all to my full load of summer classes, and I couldn’t believe they were ending.

My Calculus work had been the most intensive, but my other courses required a ton of writing, and I constantly had to open my laptop on work breaks and evenings to squeeze in an assignment or two.

After saying a jovial goodbye to a few Calculus classmates, I took a seat at a picnic table on the campus grounds, ready to put the final details on one of my essays and officially be done for the summer.

I was settling in to my work when the tree above me began to drop its leaves as if it were being shaken.

I felt a soft rustle against my arm as one of the leaves slid down it.

“What on earth?” I jumped up as soft wisps of green began to cover the table, the bench, and the ground all around. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. A rustling breeze blew a note, mixed with a few leaves, into my hand .

Still haven’t figured it out yet? Didn’t think I’d have to wait all summer. -C

I laughed, so relieved to have heard from Callan that it soothed some of the taunting in his words.

He wasn’t wrong. I had tried all summer to figure out how to send him a leaf message but had failed miserably. And without access to the library at Evergreen Academy over the summer, I couldn’t go digging in the books beyond those I’d brought home.

Plus, something told me that finding the answer in a book would go against some unspoken rule anyway. Callan wanted me to figure this one out on my own.

I tore a scrap of paper from my notebook and scrawled a message.

Don’t have to rub it in. Not everyone can be the best in the class.

After I sent the note off with the leaves that were waiting to bring Callan my return message, I submitted my final essay then packed up my books and laptop.

I decided to do a quick walk on Wildflower Trail, which snaked through the forest around the campus’s grounds, to celebrate the end of my finals.

Weed had received a summer rain the previous night, and the fragrance coming from the forest was fresh and earthy. I inhaled deeply as I walked, trying to identify the different smells.

I stopped at one of the named trees, Isabella. It had been months since I had written a tree letter or a drawing, which was usually my preference. In fact, I hadn’t sent one since I’d learned that students with tree affinities at Evergreen Academy were the ones who collected the letters.

I angled myself toward Isabella and really studied her.

She was a large black oak tree, bigger than most of her species in the forest. Her leaves were bright green and healthy, and I opened my magical botanical senses, noticing the gas exchange that was happening in the leaves, the water uptake in the roots, the microscopic growth in the stems.

“You really are magnificent,” I said aloud.

And then I felt it.

It was as if Isabella were beckoning me to take a few of her leaves. They detached from her branches and swirled around my head. The leaves pointed themselves into an arrow formation like a flock of birds, ready for a message. I let out a startled laugh. “That’s what it takes? A compliment?”

But I didn’t dwell on it in case I was missing an opportunity and tore a piece of paper from my notebook.

Ignore my last message. Your favorite pupil figured it out.

The leaves and note continued to hover around me, and I realized I didn’t know how to send it on its way.

“Um, deliver to Callan Rhodes, magical botanist, please?”

The leaves hovered there, my message mixed between them.

I thought about how trees communicated through a complex system in their roots that involved fungi threads, all happening underground. Maybe I was missing a link, like the role the fungi played.

“What else do you need?” I murmured. “Something to connect you to Callan?”

I searched my bag, and a shiver of adrenaline shot through me when I remembered Callan had left me a pencil during our last tutoring session. Was this why he had insisted I keep it?

I brought the pencil to the leaves, and they swirled around it, as if picking up its woody scent .

Then, to my immense surprise, my note was swept along in the black oak leaves as they disappeared into the wind.

I’d done it.

Take that, Callan Rhodes.