“Letters?” I repeated, confused. “Does Evergreen Academy receive mail?”
“Not directly. They’re from the trees on Wildflower Trail at SCC.”
I hopped off the tailgate and dropped the pine needles, which fell and splayed out on the ground. Callan loaded his backpack into the truck and opened the door for me as my first question burst out.
“That’swhere the letters go?”
I thought of all the tree drawings I’d slipped into the letter boxes over the years. The most recent one had been the sketch of Frank, the oldest tree in town, that I’d done toward the beginning of the school year, when my biggest concern had been alleviating Maci’s fears about calculus.
Callan nodded as he eased out of the parking lot and through the gates that separated Evergreen Academy from the rest of the dense forest around us.
“Butwhy? What does that have to do with magical botany?” Out of all the strange things I’d seen and heard since I’d come to Evergreen, this one felt the most discordant. Perhaps it was because I’d grown up with the tree-writing activity as part of my normal, non-botanist life, and I had never fathomed that it could be connected to this place.
“Our non-magical friends don’t always remember to stop and connect with nature. The tree letter boxes are modeled off some experiments done in other countries. People felt more invested in their local environment when they connected personally with at least one plant. Trees make a great candidate for connection, since they’re so enduring.”
“So you’re saying that Evergreen Academy installed the boxes?”
“It was the idea of a second-year student a few decades ago. He was researching the psychological and emotional effects of plants. It seemed to be a success in the community, so they left the boxes up.”
“But what do you do with all the letters that are collected? You don’t read them, do you?”
“We take them back to the tree houses. We don’t read them all, but we do sift through. Sometimes, people leave poetry or interesting stories. Some even leave drawings for the trees.” His eyes shot to me, and we held each other’s gaze for a moment. Did he know? Had he seen my drawings? “It’s more of a sociological study than anything now, but we tuck the letters away for posterity.”
“How often do you empty the boxes?”
“Someone gathers them once a quarter. The boxes usually don’t fill up faster than that. I actually wasn’t supposed to be doing this today. It was scheduled to be the student who spiked the cupcakes withScopolia.”
“Whatever happened with that?” Yasmin had passed along a little gossip about some of the friendships and relationships that were now strained due to the truth serum, but I hadn’t heard if the instructors had determined a culprit. Magical botanists were surprisingly close-lipped.
“Professor East traced the magically enhancedScopoliato a second-year student with a trailing affinity for defensive plants. His lead affinity is trees, so it’s kind of embarrassing for us. But it is actually impressive that he was able to pull it off without a lead affinity for defensives.”
“Did he get in trouble?” I assumed so, given that the student wasn’t here to do letter-collecting duty today.
“Professor East was not messing around, since this happened a few years ago, and it appears the lesson wasn’t strict enough. The student was expelled.”
I inhaled sharply.
“Yeah. It’s extremely rare at Evergreen. But the studentessentially drugged all of us without our consent, so I think it’s justified.”
I nodded, suddenly feeling more solemn. Evergreen Academy had been mostly fun and games, but this was a reminder that plant magic had to be taken incredibly seriously at times.
We were nearly to town now, and I looked out the windows in wonder. What other integrations did Evergreen Academy have with the town that no one knew about?
Before I could ask more, Callan changed the subject.
“I heard you had a meeting with Professor East this morning.”
I nodded, grateful that Callan had opened the door to this conversation. “He wants to do a deep dive on my family history with me, to try to determine where my powers came from.”
“And you don’t want to?”
“I’ll do it. I’m curious about my history too. It’s just that I don’t understandwhyit’s so important to know. How will knowing affect Professor East? Or affect my abilities? I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something he’s not telling me.”
Callan hesitated as he pulled into the parking lot of SCC and turned off the engine.
“What is it?” I pressed. If he knew something that would help me decide, I wanted to hear it.
“Professor East answers to the Magical Botanical Board of Regents. I’m assuming the pressure is coming more from them than him. If anything, I think he’s probably shielded you from their scrutiny to the best of his ability.”
