Needless to say, it was suggested to me that I not return to Students Against Social Media.
“Okay guys,” a guy named Parker says now, standing up and facing the handful of students that are seated around the shelves of plants and potting soil. He’s wearing a short-sleeved plaid shirt, those strange sneakers that have individual spaces for your toes, and is screwing on the cap to a Nalgene bottle with a sticker on it that says, MAY THE FOREST BE WITH YOU. “Really psyched to see such an excellent turnout for the Terrarium Club. I’m going to assume you all know what a terrarium is, but in case not, it’s basically a small-scale ecosystem within a container. Just plants, no animals or reptiles of any kind. We’ll begin with closed terrariums, where sunlight and the closed environment are used to circulate water to be self-sustaining, and move on to open terrariums toward the end of the semester, which focus primarily on plants like succulents, which require drier air.”
“I have a question,” someone says, and I recognize the nasal tone and poor voice modulation immediately. “Could we actually start with open? I want to make a desert vacation home for my lizard, Socrates, and I’d like to give it to him for his birthday in November.” Jeremiah pushes his glasses up further on his face and blinks a few times.
“Jeremiah, what did I just say?” Parker replies, his patience already waning. “Terrariums are meant to be independent ecosystems. They aren’t meant to house creatures.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Jeremiah says matter-of-factly. I wonder if Jeremiah gets beaten up every day.
“Sorry I’m late,” Celeste says as she hustles through the doorway, and Parker’s face changes from annoyance to deer-in-headlights in a matter of seconds. “I was coming back from third period when I found this injured baby squirrel on the side of the path. I brought it to Mrs. Hakes, and she’s going to nurse it back to health. You should see its tiny cast!” She throws her leather bag down by a turquoise planter and plops her butt casually on the dirty floor, crossing her legs. “What did I miss?”
I study Celeste, wearing perfectly distressed jeans, embellished boots, and the kind of T-shirt that looks like a hand-me-down but was actually purchased for at least fifty bucks, and wonder if, like Sleeping Beauty, she is dressed by a band of merry bluebirds every morning. Except these would be merry hipster bluebirds with tiny fedoras and vests. And Max would be her prince.
Ugh.
I’m not the only one staring. So are Parker, Jeremiah, and the handful of other students in the room, because just my luck, Celeste seems capable of actually producing a near-celebrity reaction. She glances around, smiling at everyone. Then she looks at me. I freeze, wondering what’s coming next. A watchful stare? A look that says, Stay away from my boyfriend, dream-freak?
“Oh, hey!” Celeste calls out with a wave.
I smile feebly and am startled to see her turn next to Jeremiah, of all people. Aren’t people like them supposed to mutually loathe each other? “Hey, Jer,” Celeste says. “How’s Socrates?”
Jeremiah glares at Parker. “Homeless.”
Parker rolls his eyes. “Forget it. And it’s no problem, Celeste. I was just explaining what we’ll be up to for the rest of the semester. We’ll start by building a basic, small-scale terrarium today, just something easy, and then I’m going to ask you guys to actually cultivate your own plants, because I have a surprise . . .” He bites his bottom lip as he rocks on his heels a bit, trying hard to contain his excitement. “I spoke with Dean Hammer this morning, and, with work on the new science center being finished soon, he has commissioned us for a project—a large-scale succulent wall!” Parker holds his hands out like ta-da! and everyone oohs and aahs, and I try to Google succulent wall on my phone without anyone noticing.
“Now, if you’ll all please choose a glass orb and grab a bag of rocks and soil from the back table, I can begin the terrarium demonstration,” Parker says.
Once we’ve retrieved our materials, Celeste comes to take a seat with me at one of the workstations. “How’s it going?” she asks. “Dean Hammer got you down?”
I look up at her. “How did you know?”
Celeste giggles. “Because I was new last year. Let me guess. Potential and opportunity?” I nod slowly, and she puts a hand on my forearm and says, “Don’t worry, soon there will be someone else for him to mold into the perfect Bennett candidate. Just hang in there.”
I’m beginning to get it, why people react to her the way they do. I mean, she’s dating the guy I’ve been in love with my whole life. I should hate her . . . but for some reason I don’t.