Page 1 of From Fake Dates to Forever Goals

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Ava

“Bingo!”

After months of relentless effort, I’ve finally done it—a project that could change the world. Sitting in my lab, surrounded by notes and equipment, I feel a surge of pride. The Saint Helena gumwood trees have been on the brink of extinction, but now, I’ve found a way to save them.

These trees aren’t just any trees. They’re vital to ecosystems and hold cultural and medicinal significance in South America and Western Africa. Yet, barely anyone seems to notice or care. That’s why I’m here—to fight for what others overlook.

“What should I call the project?” I ask Annie, who’s packing up for the day.

“How aboutSaving the Saint?” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “People love alliteration!”

Not a bad idea. Annie’s always good for quick, clever input. I glance at my computer screen, jotting down potential names. If I’m going to pitch this to Rubin McNeal, the famedphilanthropist, I need everything—from the name to the presentation—to be perfect. He’s the only person I know with the influence and resources to help turn my vision into reality.

With the sports gala just two days away, I’m pressed for time. Not only do I need to fine-tune my presentation, but I also need to find a dress that doesn’t scream “I’ve been living in a lab.”

Fatigue pulls at me as I slump into my chair. The headache I’ve been ignoring all day refuses to be pushed aside any longer. It’s time to call it a night.

Driving home, I let myself savor the small victory. But the excitement is quickly overshadowed by the daunting reality of what lies ahead. Convincing others to care about a dying species of tree? It’s not exactly a hot-button issue. Most people are too absorbed in their own lives to think about the planet, let alone one species of tree.

Still, I cling to hope. When I met Rubin McNeal at an event a few months ago, he’d seemed genuinely intrigued by my ideas. That encounter lit a spark in me, and I’m determined to fan it into a flame.

Back home, I kick off my shoes and collapse onto the couch. My feet ache from the long day, but my heart feels lighter. For the first time in weeks, I fall asleep easily, comforted by the thought that I’m moving closer to my goal.

The next morning, it’s back to the grind. Annie’s my test audience as I rehearse my presentation. She’s a tough critic but always fair.

“You’ve got this,” she says, clapping after I finish. “Seriously, it’s solid. Rubin won’t know what hit him.”

“You really think so?” I ask, a cautious smile spreading across my face.

“Absolutely,” she replies. “This project is a game-changer, Ava. That investment is as good as yours.”

Her confidence lifts my spirits, but I keep my excitement in check. My dad always told me, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” Wise words I’ve lived by.

This project is more than just science to me. It’s a chance to make a real impact. Losing the gumwood trees would be a tragedy, not just for their ecological value but for the generations of people who have relied on them. It’s my mission to ensure they survive.

“How about a shopping trip after we wrap up?” I ask Annie, eager for a break from the lab.

Her face lights up. “You’re speaking my language. Let’s do it!”

Annie’s the closest thing I have to a best friend, though she hates labels. “Just friends,” she insists, but the bond we share runs deeper than titles.

We met fresh out of college during a random jog. Later, fate threw us together again at our new hire orientation. Since then, we’ve been inseparable—working side by side, sharing meals, and even weathering heartbreak, like when her college sweetheart broke her heart.

She may not call me her best friend, but she’s definitely mine.

Annie and I head to the mall, determined to find a good dress without draining my entire paycheck. My job is tough and doesn’t pay much, but I love it. Sure, I’ll never be the next Darwin, but I’m exactly where I belong, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“This is cute,” Annie says, pulling out a pink cocktail dress.

It’s so pink it reminds me of Pepto-Bismol. I feel queasy just looking at it. I grab the dress from her and hang it back on the rack.

“I’m not going for ‘cute.’ I need something professional and put together,” I say, slowly scanning the aisles. Then something catches my eye.

“I think I found it!” I pick up the pace, and Annie trails behind me. I grab a short navy blue cocktail dress off the rack and hold it up triumphantly. “This is it. Exactly what I need.”

“Your legs would look amazing in that,” Annie says, grinning.

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