“We’re aiming to salvage the oldest section,” Sandra continues gently. “Create a protected corridor where they’ll have to tunnel under instead of cutting through. It’s not ideal, but it’s something.”
“That... that’s not enough. We can’t wave the white flag now.”
“It’s not surrender,” a man in a crisp suit chimes in. “It’s strategic retreat. Sometimes you have to bend to avoid breaking. The fire marshal’s report gives them all the ammunition they need.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Sandra cuts me off. “Alex, let me ask you this. If we keep fighting and lose everything, how does that help the environment? At least this way, we save the oldest trees, establish a precedent for future negotiations.”
Her question catches me off guard. I fumble for a response. “But if we compromise, we’re saying it’s okay to destroy part of the forest. These trees have survived actual fires for hundreds of years. They don’t need humans ‘managing’ them into extinction.”
An older man with a weathered face speaks up. “Twenty years ago, we fought a similar battle over the old growth forest near Miller’s Creek. We refused to compromise. Know what happened? We lost it all. Now it’s a Walmart parking lot.”
His words land like a ton of bricks. I look to Tara and Troy, searching for allies, but find only thoughtful expressions.
As the discussion continues around us, Tara leans in close to my ear. “Freddie would’ve been interested in this,” she whispers. “He’s always talking about finding middle ground.”
“Yeah, where is lover boy anyway?” Troy murmurs from my other side, earning himself a swift elbow in the ribs from his sister.
I keep my voice low, conscious of the ongoing debate around us. “Working,” I mutter, trying to ignore the pang in my chest. Freddie would probably have some annoyingly logical perspective on all this, pointing out things I’m too stubborn to see. “And he’s not my lover boy.”
Troy ducks his head closer, his voice barely audible over the heated discussion about environmental impact studies. “Well, he’d probably say what Sandra’s saying—partial victory is still victory, Alex.”
I straighten up, pushing thoughts of Freddie aside as I turn my attention back to the larger group. I shake my head, unwilling to accept it. “But our textbooks, our professors—they all say we need to stand firm, that every old growth forest is irreplaceable.”
Sandra nods. “They’re not wrong. But textbooks don’t have to navigate city council meetings or argue with fire marshals who have public safety on their side.”
“So we just give up?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. “Let them cut through centuries of growth for a wider road?”
“No,” the man in the suit says. “We adapt. We pick our battles. We save what we can now and fight for more later. Maybe we can’t stop the road, but we can ensure they use tunnels where possible, maintain wildlife corridors.”
As the discussion continues, my pen slows. Sandra’s talking about the economic realities of highway infrastructure, but I’m watching her hands—weathered, scarred from decades of environmental cleanup work. She’s been fighting these battles longer than I’ve been alive. The man in the suit is explaining something about wildlife corridors and alternative routing studies, his words precise and measured. Not the corporate villain I’d imagined, but someone who actually seems to understand the value of these trees.
I find myself nodding along to points I would’ve dismissed an hour ago.
The fire in my chest shifts, transforms. It’s still there, but different somehow. More focused. Like a laser instead of a wildfire.
Later, under the indifferent glow of streetlights, Tara waves her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Alex. You went radio silent there.”
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at the community center’s empty windows for who knows how long. Sandra’s contact information sits heavy in my pocket, along with notes about upcoming council meetings and environmental impact hearings.
“Just thinking,” I say, fingering the business card. “About what Sandra said regarding the tunnel option...”
“The one that would preserve the oldest section of forest?” Troy asks.
I nod slowly. “It would cost them more. But if we could prove the long-term benefits...” I trail off, already mentally drafting arguments about soil stability and carbon sequestration.
“Look at you, thinking about cost-benefit analysis,” Tara teases, linking her arm through mine.
“I’m still against the road expansion,” I say quickly. Too quickly, maybe. “But...” The word feels strange on my tongue. When did I last use that word without following it with an argument?
Troy chuckles, the sound warm in the cool night air. “Welcome to the big leagues, rookie.”
I pull out my phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I want to text Freddie about all this, hear his thoughts. But something stops me.
FREDDIE
NOW – JUNIOR YEAR – APRIL
My phone buzzes as I stroll across campus, the sun shining bright overhead. I feel a sense of satisfaction about mine and Alex’s presentation. We’ve been collaborating well, and I think we’ve got a solid chance at securing a good grade.
