NOW – SOPHOMORE YEAR – APRIL
Itug at my “Save the Planet” t-shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight as we approach the community center. I’m only just wondering if it’s a little on the nose for this kind of event. The “Mountain Springs Environmental Action” banner flaps weakly in the breeze, its faded letters a stark contrast to the crisp idealism in my head.
“All right, spill it,” Tara says, elbowing her brother. “You’re not here to protest the road expansion, are you?”
Troy’s cheeks flush. “What? No, I’m totally here to save the ancient pines and stuff.”
I can’t help but snort. “Nice one, Troy. Subtle.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. There’s this girl from class. She mentioned she’d be here, and I thought…”
“That you’d casually bump into her while discussing the devastating impact of clear-cutting hundred-year-old trees for a few extra lanes?” Tara finishes, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Hey, forest management is a totally valid conservation topic,” Troy protests weakly. “Besides, they’re saying it’s for fire breaks too.”
I laugh, some of the tension from earlier melting away. “Oh yeah? Quick, tell me the difference between selective cutting and clear-cutting.”
Troy opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Uh… one’s more… selective?”
Tara doubles over laughing. “Oh my god, you’re hopeless. This is straight-up stalking, you know that, right?”
“It’s not stalking,” Troy huffs. “It’s strategically aligning our shared interests in… uh… preventing forest fires?”
“The road expansion is going to cut right through one of the oldest pine stands in the area,” I point out. “These trees have survived actual forest fires for centuries. They don’t need ‘fire breaks’ that are really just an excuse for wider highways.”
“See?” Troy brightens. “I’m learning already. Ladies love a guy who cares about old trees.”
“Ladies love a guy who actually knows what he’s talking about,” Tara corrects, linking her arm through mine. “Come on, the meeting’s about to start. Try not to embarrass yourself when your crush shows up.”
Troy’s about to retort when his eyes widen. He ducks behind us, using Tara as a human shield. “Shit, there she is. How’s my hair?”
Tara reaches up and musses his carefully styled locks. “There. Now you look like me. Beautiful.”
“You’re the worst,” Troy grumbles, trying to smooth his hair back down.
I shake my head, grinning despite myself. “You know, for someone who claims to care about forest preservation, you sure know nothing about native species.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know pine trees are very… pine-y,” Troy says with mock indignation.
Tara nudges me, her smile a lifeline. “Ready to go?”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. This is my first time at one of these meetings. Last year I couldn’t bring myself to come. I’d felt like an imposter, but now I feel like I have more to offer.
The meeting room is a pressure cooker of conflicting energies—tie-dye clashing with tailored suits, passion butting heads with pragmatism. I recognize a few faces from campus, islands of familiarity in a sea of strangers.
As the discussion unfolds, my pen flies across the page, a frantic attempt to capture every word. They’re talking about the road expansion project, a six-lane monster poised to slice through one of the oldest forest stands in the county. My blood simmers, then boils.
“We can’t let this happen,” I interject, my voice sharper than intended. “These trees are over a century old. They’re crucial for carbon sequestration, wildlife habitats, and soil stability. It’s non-negotiable.”
A ripple of reactions—nods, frowns, exchanged glances. Sandra, a silver-haired veteran of these battles, speaks up.
“Your fire is admirable, dear, but we’ve been weathering this storm for months. The Department of Transportation’s roots run deep in the state government. And their argument about fire safety is compelling to many.”
“Then we dig deeper,” I counter, my jaw set. “We can organize protests, flood their offices with calls and emails. Show them there are better ways to manage fire risk than clear-cutting ancient trees. We can’t just give up.”
Sandra’s sigh is heavy with experience. “We’ve done all that, Alex. We’ve had protests, petition drives, call-in campaigns. We even tried to get it on the ballot for a city vote.”
I blink, momentarily taken aback. “But if we just keep pushing...”
