Alam held his cheek while walking down the hall to his next class. The corridor smelled faintly of polish and damp stone, the flickering lights buzzing overhead. He stumbled in front of the door:
Botany 303 Dr. Rosa Silva
Dragging his foot, he headed into the class.
"Ah, welcome, Alam," his teacher said, giving him a big hug. Her embrace carried the faint musk of soil and crushed leaves. She was a beautiful woman in her late twenties with soil under her nails and a faint scent of herbs clinging to her clothes. Her wavy dark hair was tied back loosely, strands catching the light like roots in water. Her sun‑kissed skin glowed against practical clothing — linen shirt rolled at the sleeves, jeans with soil stains, and sturdy boots dusted with earth.
"Come now, everyone have a seat!" her voice rang warmly, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Alam looked around for any familiar faces he might recognize; sadly, he didn't spot any. The bell rang, sharp and metallic, and the doctor began her lesson.
"Ok, class for today's lesson—" she was interrupted by a late‑arriving student. The door creaked open, letting in a draft that smelled faintly of grass. Alam looked over and spotted Rita.
"Sorry, I'm late, Doctor Silva," Rita said, brushing hair from her face. "I had to run an errand for my dad."
"That's alright, Rita. How's your handsome Papi?"
"He's alright, I guess. When I left him, he was snoring, snapping his fingers, mumbling something about being Iron Man? No clue what he was on about," Rita said.
"Iron Man indeed, Eu seria a garota sexta‑feira dele (I'd be his Girl Friday)," the doctor muttered, her cheeks warming.
"Is that another movie reference?" Rita questioned.
"Never mind that, go have a seat, Miss McCreedy," the doctor said, embarrassed, brushing soil from her palms.
Rita looked over and noticed Alam. She smiled and waved, then walked over to him.
"Hey, Rita!" Alam said as she had a seat next to him.
"I see your value now," she said, as if quoting a line.
"What?" Alam asked, confused.
"Haha, sorry. He makes me watch a LOT of movies too," Rita replied.
"Say less…?" Alam questioned, wondering if he was using that term correctly.
"Why'd YOU say it like THAT?" Rita teased.
"Sorry, I only learned recently. Did I use it right?"
"Yeah, haha."
"Alright, class, for today's lesson, you're going to learn about one of the most powerful plants known to man."
The room filled with groans, chairs squeaking against the floor.
"What's that?" Alam asked, leaning forward.
Scattered gags and ecks spread throughout the room, the sound bouncing off tiled walls.
"Now, now, class, this plant could save your life one day."
"How so, Doctor Silva?" Alam asked inquisitively.
"Its oils kill dangerous bacteria and parasites in your body, its scent repels malaria‑carrying pests like mosquitoes, and it can breathe life into any bland dish."
"Can it get rid of this runny nose?" one student asked sarcastically, sniffing loudly.
"Yes, actually, depending on what's causing it," the doctor replied. "It's also extremely powerful against the common cold," she added, her tone firm.
Alam raised his hand.
"Yes, Alam?"
"How do we grow it?" he asked, eyes bright.
"Ah, yes. Under each of your desks, you'll find a pot of soil and a garlic bulb."
The students reached under their desks. The scrape of clay pots against wood filled the air, followed by the earthy smell of damp soil rising as lids were lifted.
"Now reach into the soil with your hands and break it up. Don't be afraid to really dig in there."
Alam plunged his fingers into the cool dirt, the grains clinging beneath his nails. Rita wrinkled her nose at the smell, sharp and loamy.
"This class is a bit odd, isn't it?" Rita whispered.
"No, actually, I'm loving it!" Alam exclaimed, his face glowing with joy.
"Now, take the bulbs and break them into cloves, then plant them," the doctor said, holding up a garlic bulb. The papery skin rustled as she peeled it, releasing a pungent, sulfurous scent that filled the room.
"That's it?" Alam asked.
"Well, you'll still need to add water, but yeah," the doctor replied, brushing soil from her fingertips.
"I think I found my new favorite class—" Alam was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Dean Chinyama stepped through. The air seemed to chill as her polished shoes clicked against the floor. "Good evening, class," she said, stepping forward with her hands folded behind her back. "I'm looking for a pair of troublesome twins. You all know the pair."
"W‑We haven't seen them, Dean Chinyama," Doctor Silva stammered, her earthy warmth faltering.
The dean slammed her hand on the doctor's desk, the jars rattled, soil spilling onto the floor. "I didn't ask you, girl!"
Doctor Silva turned away, in fear, rubbing her soiled, covered palms together as if grounding herself.
The dean shifted her attention back to the students. "Now, have any of you seen the Kobayashi twins?" she asked with a stern look.
Scattered noise filled the room, voices trembling.
"Very well, you'll all run twenty laps during P.E. next period."
The class remained silent, the tension thick as damp soil.
Alam raised his hand. Rita reached for it, pulling it back down. "What are you doing?" she whispered.
"I've seen them, I'm gonna tell her," Alam said, raising his hand again.
"Your funeral," Rita whispered before face‑palming.
"Yes, Mister Lestari?" the dean called to him.
"I saw them in my last class. They were near the chemistry room," Alam said with confidence.
The class groaned, paper rustling as students slouched.
"Come on, man," one student muttered.
"I'm well aware of where they were, Mister Lestari. I need to know where they are now!" the dean roared, her voice echoing like iron striking stone. "That's forty laps for wasting my time!" she added.
"Sorry, I just—"
"Sixty for interrupting me!" the dean interjected. "Anyone else care to waste my time?"
Alam lowered his head, heat rising in his cheeks.
"I tried to warn you," Rita whispered.
The dean stared daggers at her. "Is your father still being a drunk buffoon?" she asked.
"No, Dean Chinyama," Rita replied, her voice tight.
"Good. If I catch him swimming in the fountain again, I'll have him arrested."
"Yes, Dean Chinyama," Rita replied.
"Must you be so cruel to the children?" Doctor Silva asked softly.
"Quiet, you," the dean said with a flat dismissive tone.
Doctor Silva sighed, the earthy scent of garlic lingering in the air.
"Now, where are those damn twins?" Dean Chinyama muttered before storming out, slamming the door behind her. Several pots toppled from Doctor Silva's desk, crashing to the floor and shattering. The sharp scent of garlic and damp soil rose instantly, filling the room as shards scattered across the tiles.
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the faint rustle of soil shifting in the pots.
"Oh no!" Alam exclaimed, pushing back his chair. "Let me help," he offered, already rising from his seat.
"It's alright," Doctor Silva said gently. "Please, just continue with your assignments," she requested, kneeling to gather the broken pieces with careful hands.
"What was that about?" Alam whispered to Rita.
"She just has a bug up her butt, as usual."
"Cindy said the twins are always causing trouble?" Alam questioned.
"Yeah."
"So why aren't they expelled?"
"Their dad is one of the few wealthy donors left keeping the school going. They can't afford to expel them."
"Oh."
"So, they just let them run amok without consequence?" Alam asked.
"No. The dean has a special room where she puts people she deems troublesome," Rita replied, her voice dropping.
"What room is that?" Alam asked.
"Pray you never have to find out," Rita whispered, her fingers brushing soil from her nails.