“Ready?” Sang asks.
I nod, and we walk into the administration building together.
“Go on in,” Ms. Beverly says.
Sang and I sit down across from Ms. Suntile and Mr. Burrows, and it feels good to have him on my side of the desk instead of theirs.
Sang starts, telling them about his reverse photosynthesis project and the progress he’s making. He tells them how he’s successfully been able to pull the exact amount of sunlight from plants to let them die peaceful deaths. He explains how this method of weeding eliminates the pain it causes witches, how it’s easier on the witch, the plant, and the earth. His voice gets faster as he talks, his excitement and love for what he does filling the room with a lightness that is undeniably spring.
Ms. Suntile leans back in her chair, listening, and I’m surprised when she smiles, a real smile that touches her eyes and shows her teeth. I’ve never seen her smile like that the entire time I’ve known her, and I almost laugh; I’m not the only one Sang has had an effect on.
“I would very much like to see your research, Mr. Park. It sounds remarkable.”
“I look forward to showing it to you.” There’s relief in his voice, and he relaxes beside me.
“It sounds like you’ve been able to pick up right where we left off at Western,” Mr. Burrows says.
No thanks to you, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut.
Sang nods. “I’m glad I’ve been able to find the time for it.”
Sang did this for me. He told them about his research before he wanted to so I wouldn’t be the only one who was vulnerable today. So I wouldn’t be alone. It makes me want to wrap him in my arms right here, right this second, in front of Ms. Suntile and Mr. Burrows.
But there’s something else, too, a hot, prickly sensation that runs up my spine. My stomach feels as if it drops ten feet. I’m jealous. Jealous that I will no longer be the only person who’s seen Sang’s immersion house and his project. Jealous that my eyes won’t be the only ones on his botanical illustrations. Jealous that the secret we shared is no longer secret.
And now I have to let them in on the other secret, the other unseen rope tying me to Sang. I’m afraid telling them will erase our moments, erase the things that make us us.
“Now, was there something else?” Ms. Suntile asks, her voice returning to its usual sternness.
Sang looks at me expectantly. I twist my hands in my lap, and my heart hammers inside my chest. “Yes. But it’s something I need to show you.”
“What is it?” Impatience edges her voice, but I want to do this my way. Keep at least a semblance of control.
“It’s something that’s worth leaving your office for.”
Ms. Suntile exhales, not bothering to hide her irritation. “Well, then, let’s go see it.”
She stands, and the four of us walk out of the administration building and toward the farm at the edge of campus. The air is cool, and the sky is clear, a perfect shade of blue convincing the plants to come back to life.
Mr. Burrows talks with Sang about his project as we walk, his voice enthusiastic and supportive, asking questions and presenting hypotheticals. It’s a glimpse of what they must have been like at Western, and it makes me angry that Sang’s experience here has been so different from what he was promised.
And yet I’m so thankful for it—thankful it’s him waiting for me on the control field every time I train, thankful he’s the one by my side as I fail and succeed and everything in between.
Thankful for him.
The farm is quiet when we get there, acres of land patiently waiting for autumn’s harvest. If Ms. Suntile is surprised that we’re here instead of at the control field, she doesn’t show it.
“All right, Ms. Densmore, the floor is yours.”
Mr. Burrows stands beside her, and they wait with expectant expressions on their faces. I look at Sang, and he gives me an encouraging nod. But I feel frozen in place, everything stuck except the racing of my heart.
I can never go back from this. As soon as they see what I can do and realize what it means, everything will change.
And the thing I’ve spent my life avoiding will become my life.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I made my decision long ago, when Mr. Hart died and Mr. Burrows put me through that test. When Paige called me a waste and Sang told me I was made for this.
When I started to believe him.
“Ms. Suntile, would you please get ready to use your magic? Don’t actually do anything, just call it to the surface.” I don’t open my eyes; I don’t want to see the look on her face or the way Mr. Burrows watches me with doubt.
Ms. Suntile doesn’t say anything, but I feel the slow, somewhat sad flow of autumn and know she is doing as I asked. But when I try to reach for it, I can’t.
I can feel it, but I can’t get to it.
I try again and again, but nothing happens.
I open my eyes and see Ms. Suntile looking at me with a cross between pity and annoyance. I will never get a smile from her.
“Well?”
That’s when I understand. I can’t grab her magic, tie our seasons together, because I don’t trust her.
“I need a second,” I say. I take Sang by the arm and pull him aside, ignoring Mr. Burrows as he leans into Ms. Suntile and whispers something.
“I can feel her magic, but I can’t create the
