Page 4 of Seeds of Love
But don’t tell anyone—I have a reputation as a cool, disaffected freshman to uphold. As I open the door, the wall of noise hits me.
A group of students cluster near the lecture hall, laughing and chatting like they’ve been here forever. I linger on the edges, feeling like Pluto—on the outskirts of the solar system, and definitely not invited to the planet party.
I tug at the hem of my UMS hoodie, letting the oversized navy fabric swallow me whole. The university’s mountain logo is embroidered in silver thread on the chest—three peaks nestled together, with a tiny pine tree tucked into each valley. The design is simple but perfect, like the Rocky Mountain view from campus. The hoodie itself feels like a wearable hug, its fleece lining worn to cloud-like softness from countless washes.
“Hey there! Environmental Science?”
I nearly jump out of my skin. Standing next to me is a girl who looks like she raided Elle Woods’s closet—all pink frills and a smile so bright it’s hard not to feel welcome.
“Uh, yeah,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.Shit. Off to a stellar start.
“Great! I’m Tara,” she chirps, apparently unfazed by my awkwardness. “Wanna sit together? Safety in numbers, right?”
For a moment, I consider making a run for the hills—or at least the safety of the back row. But something about Tara’s enthusiasm makes me pause.
“Sure,” I hear myself say. “I’m Alexandria.”
“Cool name!” she comments. “Mind if I call you Alex?”
“Uh…yeah, that’s cool.”
Okay, so forget my earlier decision. I’m going by Alex now. Decided by Tara, my new… friend?
As we claim our seats, Tara asks, “So what made you choose Environmental Science, Alex?”
I take a breath. “I want to make a difference,” I say, my voice growing stronger even as my brain screams, Abort mission! “Get into the Global Sustainable Resources Institute program, help change the world. You know, the usual.” I brush it off like it’s not the life goal that’s driven me for the last decade.
I brace for the eye-roll, but Tara surprises me.
“That’s amazing!” she gushes. “GSRI is, like, super competitive, right?” I nod. It’s why I put everything else aside in high school. I needed the best grades to get into this college to increase my chances. University of Mountain Springs has a reputation for sending students directly to GSRI. It’s an unwritten rule that UMS students have a better shot at the program. Outdated, maybe, but I couldn’t take my chances elsewhere.
“You’ve gotta be committed to aim for that.”
I’m about to get defensive before I realize her tone isn’t mocking—she sounds like she might even admire me. I purse my lips and nod. “What about you? Why’re you here?”
She laughs self-deprecatingly. “Great question. I’m still figuring things out. My mom’s pushing me toward academia, you know, family legacy and all that.”
I nod, but I don’t really know. My parents never pushed me toward their career paths. My mom would always say, “We all choose our own way, darling, and whatever it is, it’s the path you need to be on,” or something equally cryptic that a certified life coach would say (or as she calls herself, aholistic guidance practitioner). Her parenting style revolved around “letting me explore the world” and offering advice in quotes that, at 12 years old, felt like I’d need a code breaker to understand.
“But really, I’m more interested in the hands-on stuff,” Tara continues. “I love the idea of paleoenvironments—understanding past climates to predict future changes. Or maybe something to do with groundwater. I’m pretty good with numbers, and I heard that hydrogeology is full of numbers.”
As we chat, I’m surprised to find the conversation flowing easily. Tara’s bubbly exterior hides a brain that could give Einstein a run for his money.
By the time the professor arrives, I’m shocked to realize we’ve been chatting for over 15 minutes. And not once did she glance around for someone more interesting to talk to.
The lecture hall falls silent as the professor takes the podium, his silver hair and crisp suit a stark contrast to the sea of casual student attire. His presence commands attention, and I find myself sitting up straighter, pen poised over my notebook.
“Good morning, class,” he begins, his voice smooth and commanding. “I’m Dr. Victor Reeves, and I’ll be lecturing today on the economics of environmental policy. I don’t typically lecture at the freshman level, but some folks at the universitydecided it’s important for thekidsto get to know all of the academic staff from day one.” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t quite agree.
“He looks like he’s here for a Marvel villain casting call,” Tara whispers.
I suppress a giggle, slapping a hand over my mouth.
“Now,” he continues, a slight smirk playing on his lips, “who can tell me why, sometimes, the most environmentally friendly decision…is to do nothing at all?”
The room erupts in confused murmurs. My hand twitches, eager to rise, but I hold back. Instead, I scribble furiously, determined to grasp every nuance of his argument before I challenge it.
Dr. Reeves launches into his lecture, seamlessly weaving economic theory with environmental science.
