Page 16 of Among the Screaming Trees

“Guys,” I bark, desperate to get them back on track.

“Sorry, Pen. Foxglove Muir. From what I remember from the news, and the bits I’ve been able to piece together while he’s been here, he’s had a past no kid should ever have to deal with,” Luk states. “He was in the car with his parents and older sister when it went off an icy road one winter and landed upside down in a drift. The sister and parents died on impact, and Fox wasn’t found for days. He had terrible hypothermia and was clinging to life when paramedics found him with the corpses.”

Oh my God, that’s terrible. He lost his nuclear family in the blink of an eye, then began to freeze in the car while waiting for rescue. “But he’s okay now, right?” I ask Luk.

“Okay is a stretch, Aspen. I’m pretty sure he stopped talking altogether after the accident. He went into the foster system after a cousin refused to deal with him anymore. He had counseling, and I think he still sees someone. He writes things down in his journal.”

“Yes, the black book. I gave it back to him when Wyldan dragged him and Finley to his office.”

“Wait, Wyldan got involved? Fuck, that guy will freak him out more. Fox doesn’t do well with loud noises. He likes silence and stillness.”

“That’s where the rumor came about him thinking he was a tree. It’s just kids being all bitter and brutal,” Tali adds. “I mean, I hate silence. I fill up dead space with words because it makes me uncomfortable.”

“I worked that out,” I add with a grin.

“Fox speaks,” Luk clarifies, and both Tali and I swivel to face him. “What?”

“Rarely. But he can. I hear him talking to himself at night sometimes. I think that’s how he comforts himself, or groans some chick’s name as he’s beating off. Who knows?”

“Has he said anything to you?” I ask him.

“A couple of things. He’ll grunt out a yes or no sometimes. I don’t mind the silence either, so no complaints here. He’s a decent guy who was dealt a super-shitty hand. I couldn’t give a fuck if he wants to be a tree or not. As long as he’s not an asshole. Now, Finley Ja vec, is a different matter. That kid is an asshole.”

“Oh, fuck. Is he in the Larch, Lukaz?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“Because you Larchers put your masks on somewhere, don’t you? It’s not like you turn up already masked and none of you knows who the others are. The anonymity is only for Ashes, right?”

“Kind of. Not that I’ll be looking out for Ja vec. Fuck that guy.” He resumes slurping soda until his eyes bulge when realization hits. “Wait, you want me to work out which one is Fin, so you can avoid him and his botanical calling card!”

“Exactly,” Tali and I chorus together. “No one wants anything from that prick, especially not his prick.”

“I understand,” he placates. “As soon as I determine what he’s carrying, I’ll try to text one of you with the genus. That way you can avoid him.”

Tali nods, accepting his answer. I’m still trying to find out if the Larch has any rules other than it’s a forest free for all, mind the bears and be safe, y’all.

Chapter Eight

Aspen

TREMBLING ASPEN (POPULUS TREMULOIDES)

The second Biotech Lab with ELWY is marginally better than the first. He didn’t lose his shit over anyone being late, because we were all seated at least five minutes before the 11 a.m. Lab I was lost in my head, thinking up words for his ELWY acronym when he sauntered in with his economical glide, and the vacuum took our air with it. Egotistical, lopsided, wealthy youngster. No part of him is lopsided from what I can tell, and he’s not young, but that’s what my brain conjured under pressure. Once he turns that mismatched stare on you, it’s like a lit Bunsen burner under your palm.

“Molecular Genetics,” Wyldan says, perched on the front of his lab desk, and my interest is piqued. “Ms. Aldereyne, why don’t you explain the importance of why we study molecular genetics?”

Any interest I had has frozen solid in my bloodstream. Why single me out? And why mention my surname? Call me Aspen, you idiot. I blink, composing my thoughts and how much, or how little, to divulge. “Molecular genetics is vital to help us see inside botanical DNA to study how plants evolve and adapt.”

“Precisely,” he says, his throat working to deliver the word with a hint of rasped sexiness at the end. Oh God. “Any recent examples?”

The laboratory is swallowed by silence. Lukaz shifts in his seat, angling his head when I mouth “Soy” to him. His brows pinch. Either he misheard my clue, or he’s not sure how to explain it. Wyldan seizes on our silent correspondence and pounces.

“Lukaz, an example?”

See, he uses his first name!

“Soy, Professor.”