“Oversee? Why?” Hollis asked, voice still sounding bored.
I cast my eyes between them, not sure where the conversation was headed.
“New standard practice,” Hollis’s dad said.
“Seems like a waste of resources, but whatever floats your fronds,” Hollis said, tapping pencil to clipboard.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” his dad said. “Each affinity group would like to make ourselves a little more present here at the academy. Is this a fellow fern affinity?” The man turned his attention to me.
Hollis didn’t look at me as he said, “Yes.”
Well, that wastechnicallytrue.
Brie had finished marking then, and she walked toward us. “Briar, Hollis, are you two done scoring?”
“Briar?” Hollis’s dad said, his tone much sharper now. “Briar Whelan?”
“That’s me,” I said, trying to smile politely, though it was strange that someone knew who I was before I knew them.
The man glanced at Hollis, a tinge of irritation in his lips. “You don’t say. I’m Nash. I’m glad to see you hanging out with my son. Perhaps he could give you a tour of the fern conservatory some time. Have you ever been to Alaska?”
“Oh, no, not yet—” I began, but Hollis let out a loud sigh, cutting me off.
“Dad, this is not the time and place. Can’t you see Briar and I are busy with a project?”
Nash straightened at his son’s words but relented. “I’ll let you get back to it. Briar, I’d love to speak with you more if you have some time today or tomorrow.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, and Nash turned to leave the teahouse.
“Fan-frondin-tastic,” Hollis said. “There’s no getting away from them.”
Brie cleared her throat. “Ready to calculate the winner?”
Hollis’s face was as smooth as butter, as if his dad hadn’t arrived to supervise the winter solstice events. He turned to Brie, “Yes, chef.”
One thing was for sure. The board’s influence at Evergreen Academy was continuing to expand, and the younger founders’ descendants weren’t happy about it.
Chapter Forty-Four
The next night was the winter solstice, and we donned our warm coats, picked up our lanterns, and made our way into the woods for the evening meal.
The long rectangular table that ran the length of a large clearing in the woods was even more spectacular than I remembered. It was covered with flickering candles, greenery, and of course, mountains of freshly prepared food. I had helped my fellow harvesters bake bread earlier that day, and the aroma of the fresh loaves had my stomach growling now.
The gingerbread houses were on display along the table, and Coral moaned as she looked at it. “Beat out by the herbs. Seriously, how?”
All three sets of eyes shot to me, and I lifted my hands. “They made spices fall from the top of a snow globe like real snow. It’s incredible. But why are you all blaming me? I wasn’t the only judge.”
“With Hollis and you, we thought ferns would have it in the bag,” Coral said.
“I loved the fern house and marked it high, but Brie providedan entire spreadsheet scoring system with weighted values andmathinvolved. I didn’t even know what winner I picked, just the various scores I gave.”
“The herbs oneisreally creative,” Yasmin admitted.
I glanced around and spotted Callan near the other end of the table, sitting with Hollis and some of his tree affinity friends. Meadow was two seats over, swatting something out of his hand.
Professor East rose, and everyone turned their attention to him. My eyes briefly flicked to Nash, Hollis’s dad, who was seated near him with the other instructors. “Good evening, botanists. Normally, I give a speech about enjoying the season we’re in or about the changes our plant friends undergo at the tides of the year, but tonight, I want to thank you all for the unique spirit each of you brings to our academy. There is no academy without our wonderful students, our dedicated professors, and the spirit of collaboration and scholarship that we all share. As the seasons shift, I encourage you all to remember these things and that there is more that unites us than separates us. Now”—he lifted his glass—“for the toast. To the returning of the light.”
We raised our glasses in return, each of us calling, “To the returning of the light.”
