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 wasa 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.
Chapter Seven
As I climbed into bed later that night, my phone dinged with a text. Thinking it would be Maci or Yasmin, I opened the notification lazily.
The message was from an unknown number.
I knew you just needed a little motivation to figure it out.
I sat bolt upright. Callan. It had to be.
Ha ha. How did the solstice recharge go?
Shield is fully charged. No issues.
That’s a relief. Did you stick around in Weed for long?
No, we left the day after the solstice. What have you been up to? Snuck onto any academy grounds lately?
I bit down on a smile and decidednot to take the bait.
Very funny. I’ve been helping my Aunt Vera with wedding planning. She’s getting married in October.
