Page 13 of Seeds of Christmas
Living the dream. Enjoy the skiing.
You coming to the New Year’s party at the house? Gonna be huge.
Maybe. I’ll be on the research trip most of the break.
Nerd. Alright man, have a good time
4
RHIANNON
The university truck is possibly the ugliest shade of green I’ve ever seen.
It’s also idling in the parking lot behind the geology building at 7:53 AM, which means I’m early.
I’m early. I’ve been awake since five, mentally running through equipment checklists and trying not to think about the fact that my phone has several unread texts from my mother.
I haven’t looked at them.
The back of the truck is already half-loaded—Professor Bam must have started before I got here. I can see cases of equipment through the rear window, carefully strapped down. Thermometers, sample containers, the portable pH meter, the good camera for documentation. Good. I know how to use all of this stuff.
Worst case scenario: If Carter decides not to help and to sleep for the whole trip, I’ll be fine collecting everything Bam needs on my own.
Because I have to be fine. If I’m not, then what am I? The girl who cracks under pressure? The girl who needs help? No. If I can’t carry it alone, I don’t deserve to be here.
My backpack is heavy on my shoulder—eight days’ worth of clothes, toiletries, my field notebook, three fiction books I absolutely have to take, and the anxiety that’s been living in my chest since Wednesday.
“Rhi!”
I turn to see Professor Bam emerging from the building, arms full of what looks like more equipment, her curls escaping from under a knit hat with a pompon on top.
“Morning, Professor.” I hurry over to help her, taking a case of sample vials that weighs approximately one thousand pounds. Or maybe I’m just weak from anxiety and caffeine deprivation. Hard to say.
“How much more needs to be loaded?” I ask, trying to sound casual and professional, like my internal monologue isn’t currently screaming about spending days with Carter Wolfe.
Carter Wolfe, who I definitely do not have a crush on.
Carter Wolfe, who I have not been thinking about for the past forty eight hours.
Carter Wolfe, who is—according to my extremely objective and not-at-all-biased assessment—unfairly attractive for someone who skips class.
“Just these last few things. Carter should be here any minute to help.” She checks her watch. “We’ll do one final run-through of the protocol, make sure you both have the route information, and then you’re off.”
I hadn’t messaged him like I’d said I would. I couldn’t think of what to say without sounding like a nerd, or too formal. Embarrassingly, I spent over an hour thinking about it before I gave up and accepted that we would just meet here.
The way she says it—casual, cheerful—makes it sound so simple. Just fieldwork. Just you and a near-stranger in the mountains over Christmas.
No big deal.
“Are you excited?” she asks, and there’s something knowing in her eyes. “This is an excellent experience. Really. Graduate programslovethis kind of independent field research. You know most people don’t get to do something like this as an undergrad unless they apply to external research labs. Plus, you’re really helping me out.” She winks. “I’m a good person to owe you a favor.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, and it’s not entirely a lie. Under the anxiety and the guilt about avoiding my family and the uncertainty about Carter, there is excitement. Real, genuine excitement about the work itself.
I love fieldwork. Love the precision of it, the way data tells a story if you know how to listen. Love being outside, even in the cold, with a clear purpose.
It’s everything else that’s complicated.
“Morning, ladies!”
