by Xavier Salazar

It was one of the first days of spring and the drippings from recent showers glittered in the sunlight. Soft footsteps pattered among towering facilities. The mutterings of two voices could be vaguely heard from the highest windows.

“Where are we? This can’t lead to it…” asked a voice that was too afraid to voice his true concern.

“No need to worry. We’re almost there.” This voice was assertive, and yet it was too gentle, the same one used by a conman. 

But there was no deception. As the voices moved beyond the corner of the furthest brick obelisk, an open gate led into a gravel path, and beyond a short, shady forest trail, a bright field filled with vegetation was split by a path that led to the building.

The footsteps crunched along the gravel path, and soon enough the owners of the voices were both in full view on the field… above knee-level, that is. The nervous, timid voice belonged to a boy of fourteen years, and thick black clothing shielded his unassuming form. The gentle, confident voice was a school counselor, a wise woman who had helped the boy with his aspirations for years. She knew he had plenty of potential, if only he could settle on a profession. But after a long-winded discussion on evolution and his interests in biology (of which he knew little), she thought it would be a good idea to bring him to a greenhouse she knew quite well, as its owner. Her old yellow dress, dotted with little white daisies, rustled with the leaves and flowed behind her as it guided the boy through the path.

They reached the building that stood like a rugged tree in a parking lot long forgotten. When they entered, the two were met with a charming lobby dotted with pamphlets on conservation and photography of orchid flowers. In one corner, a bright yellow stand covered in bee and honeycomb illustrations took the boy’s attention away from the woman. Finding his curiosity endearing, she let the cub creep around the room for as long as he pleased. When the boy was finished, she guided him to the sign-up sheet so the tour could finally begin. They walked toward the glass door, which provided a small window where glimpses of leaves could be seen, and walked in.

Just in front of them, they were met with a vine-covered arch, and from higher up on the path and to the left, a stream veined down a few rocks and ended in a little tub that held a single turtle’s habitat. To the right of the path, just past the arch, bright red claws hung off a lanky stem with long, broad leaves above them. But those were dwarfed by the sheer size of those of the giant banana plant, which were so large that their weight dropped them to only a few feet above the ground. Tiny, green, square-like bananas grew, guarded by a leaf that protruded only a foot above them and blocked them from view. A table holding a young pineapple stood in the middle of the path, and hundreds of plants grew between it all, ranging from the small kind that grew just above the knees to behemoths that could be viewed only by looking straight up. Various plants hung on the ceiling, and as the humidifiers hissed and fans hummed, tendrils and roots danced through the air. A refreshing and captivating feeling overtook the boy, like the chorus of his favorite song.

“Alright, Julien, you ready to start?”

“It’s so pretty… Miss Linnaeus, didn’t you say it was just orchids? These aren’t flowers! It’s like you put a jungle in here!”

“True, orchids aren’t the only plants here, but what did you expect? A bed of flowers?” She scoffed.

Splashes of water and the soft hum of machinery accompanied the pair’s murmurs as they walked, and often Julien stopped to marvel at anything that caught his eye. He learned of plants that he had never heard of before, but what intrigued him more, somehow, was the sight of foods and spices he had eaten for years growing on a plant that he had never seen, not even in pictures. Julien talked to the plants and held leaves and flowers like they were the hands of children. He even apologized whenever he brushed up against one on accident. Once, he realized what he was doing, and after a pause, he moved on with red cheeks. 

“You know,” Miss Linnaeus mused, “I’m glad you respect these plants so much. Other guests aren’t so careful, especially with those bananas.”

“I mean, they’re so pretty… if you had a spare leaf lying around I’d want to frame it and keep it in my room.” 

“Better to just take a picture. They smell terrible when they rot.”

And pictures he took. Julien was on his phone for most of the tour, but that was because he wanted to snap a picture of every plant he saw. They inched along at an ant’s pace, and the group’s voices blended in with the rest of the noise as if they had always been there. They reached a miniature waterfall, which had been hidden behind the banana plant, that splashed into another stream, although this time large enough to need a small bridge. At the end of the stream, just a few feet away, a second turtle and some koi swam through a tiny pond, surrounded by plants that grew along its edges and thrived off the water.

Beyond the bridge, a yellow, vine-decorated wall – the only one in the greenhouse not replaced with pale windows – directed the pair to the exit, where they were met with another path surrounded by a field of wild plants cradled by the forest. Julien was silent as they walked and admired the leaves that swept next to him. They reminded him of emeralds. They were here long before him, and they would be long after. It was… reassuring.

“Miss Linnaeus?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think boarding school will be hard?”

“Sure. But you’re a smart kid, you’ll do great.”

“It’s gonna suck not knowing anyone there.” A pause. “I’ll come back when I can. It was really nice.”

“Thanks. You can come whenever… if we’re open. I better not see you show up at midnight or something.”

∙ ∙ ∙

Julien’s summer saw not a second of rest. He had been thrown into deafening chaos from the outset, faced with meetings, orientations, placement tests, and moving out, all while he juggled vacations, researching, and caring for his young plants in between. The highlight of his summer, though, was when he finally managed to visit the greenhouse again, right before he moved. The path was just as he remembered. Wild grass and Trifolium flowers rustled in the breeze and bees hummed a tune in the golden shower of the evening. It was a dreamy sight. He swished open the door and crossed the lobby of the simple, unassuming box-like building that held a live treasure trove few knew of. The subtle white noise of the ventilation could be heard under the scribble of his pen on the sign-up sheet. He walked to the door, glanced back toward the bee stand, sighed, and went through.

Devil’s Ivy and Monstera Delisocia welcomed him in as they grew on the arch like it was a part of an architect’s design. The Red-Eared Turtle’s eyes seemed to smile as he walked past. The Lobster Claw waved to him with its bright colors. The pineapple was gone, but in its place stood an orchid plant Julien didn’t know. It carried pale white lobes accented with a touch of pink that invited pollinators and guests alike to rest with it for a while. The banana had grown quite well, a foot or two bigger than he remembered. Its leaves drooped toward him as if they wanted to say hi, and he held one in his hands for a minute before he walked on. When he reached the bridge, he stopped again to admire the koi as they swam up to him in expectation of food. He looked up, scanned the plants that surrounded him and listened to the splashes of the water behind him. He was happy to see he knew a few more plants than he did last time, but he still had far to go before he could identify the many unlabeled plants here.

He walked out of the greenhouse and was met with the breeze that conjured the sound of the ocean as it danced through the field. Just ahead, Miss Linnaeus picked through the Trifolium, investigating something Julien couldn’t quite figure out. She noticed him and smiled.

“Hey, Julien! How’s your summer been?”

“Pretty busy. I would have visited sooner if there wasn’t so much stuff to do.”

“No worries,” she said. “So, are you going to be moving out soon?”

Julien hummed, but it was hidden by the rustling of the grass. “Um, yeah. Sorry.”

“You’re probably not gonna get another chance to come here for a while then. In case that’s true, I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Miss Linnaeus. It was great to have you as my counselor.”

“Bye! Feel free to visit when you get the chance!”

With that, Julien trudged along the path; he knew he wouldn’t be back here for a long time. 

∙ ∙ ∙

Julien walked with the fence, and the fall air made it cool to the touch as he ran his fingers along the bars. His nervous excitement was overwhelming, especially since this was the first time he had been in the school since summer orientation. And, to add on to his foggy memory of the place, he had never entered the school through the main entrance. For now, though, he walked on his own, a few students here and there walking nearby without a word.

He thought of all the people he had left behind and the new life that began to take shape in front of him for the first time since he left. He had a lot to do if he wanted to get a house, or a car, or anything else that he needed to survive in this world. He had almost never thought about this kind of thing before. Was he supposed to? Julien always assumed he’d get some cushy job in engineering with a six-figure salary and that would be the end of it. But now? That didn’t sound so appealing anymore, even for someone whom strangers described first and foremost as effortlessly smart, which he knew was far from the truth. He’d much rather prioritize his own happiness over whatever everyone else expected from him, but that didn’t make anything less confusing or nerve wracking. He felt like he had just played e4 in chess, and life would play Scholar’s Mate if he wasn’t careful. All he could do for now was play a few moves at a time. He adjusted his backpack and carried himself to the entrance.

A giant, ancient metal gate now stood before him and welcomed the new students in with open hinges. Julien read the text on the gate’s top: “Mendel’s School — of Liberal Arts”. Beyond the gate sat two fields split by the main path to the school, which teemed with life. Hundreds of students stood talking among themselves, every group proctored by a student wearing a bright, easily identifiable blue shirt. Even more students strolled the path, either chatting with each other or marveling at the grandiose building ahead. 

The most notable thing Julien noticed, though, was the ancient chestnut tree that shaded a huge area right in the middle of the path, which curved around it in a neat circle. Its golden leaves radiated warmth as it soaked in one of the last sunny afternoons of the year, even if the air was chilly. The leaves danced as the wind played its song, but the trunk stood unmoving. It stood as stationary as the school, and it was just as old. The steady branches carried a banner that read, “Welcome class of 2025!” He had heard of this tree before — during orientation, the teachers mentioned that a few students would collect seeds in the fall to cook come Christmas time, a decades-long tradition — but he never thought it would be this big. This tree was here long before him, and it would be here long after.

Julien straightened himself out and held his head as high as the chestnut’s leaves. He’d figure it all out, he knew. He was a smart kid, after all.