Colby’s happy drunkenness took a turn in the afternoon. First, he got hungry. Next, after forcing the class to abandon their drinks in favor of frying chicken, Colby ate until he started to feel sick.

Then he felt sad.

Then it got sad.

“I just like…I do all this stuff, ya know? And I…she…it’s like I’m manning the stove but…the stirring…” Colby closed his eyes and lifted his head up to the sky. “And the sauce! The sauce. She doesn’t even notice the sauce.”

No one understood his rambling. Once the novelty of a drunk teacher wore off, the students elected Benedict to go to Pomona seeking an intervention. But when she entered, things went from sad to weird.

“Pomonaaaa!” Colby said with his arms stretched wide. “Did you—you noticed—you noticed the sauce.”

She gracefully ducked away from his embrace. “Ohoh, okay. Easy there. Let’s—hey class? Head Chef Quince is all set up with your greenhouse. Why don’t you spend the rest of the afternoon there?”

Colby leaned on Pomona, his face leaning in close and his boozy breath washing over her. “Where are we going?”

“We…are going to get you some water.”

“Oh that sounds splendid, I love water.”

The interior of the greenhouse took Archie’s breath away.

For over a month, he had only seen the greenhouses from afar—four large buildings near the pastures, each identical.

Wooden walls supported glass roofs that let the afternoon sun shine through. Small farm plots and fencing surrounded each of them, giving students a place to grow winter crops outside while letting the more vulnerable plants flourish inside.

Compared to the rest of the Academy, the outside walls of the greenhouses were rather unremarkable. No towering pillars or statues or fancy stonework.

But inside?

Crossing the threshold and walking through that soft wall of humidity?

Seeing the sunlight come through the grid of square windows and making the dust in the air glow?

Smelling the rich soil and realizing that this place was a blank canvas, ready for artwork?

Archie felt like a kid discovering a new wonder of the world.

Two rows of raised cobblestone walkways ran through three rows of dirt, each ten feet wide. Little wooden stakes with thin wire ropes divided the plots into ten by ten squares.

Quince and Blanche stood at the front entrance surrounded by well-worked farming tools, welcoming the other students to their little slice of farming paradise.

Archie rushed past them, finding a plot in the middle row with the most sunshine. His urgency caused a panic, other students emulating him and creating a mad dash to find a spot. Archie batted away anyone that tried to claim the plot next to his until Nori made her way through the crowd and found her rightful place by his side.

Once the dust settled, Quince addressed the class.

“I’m glad to see y’all’re so excited.”

Archie stifled a laugh at the double contraction.

“This’ll be yours for the duration of your stay at the Academy. You’ll be responsible for it. I apologize that it hasn’t been ready, someone in the last graduating class had managed to plant a pumpkin that had vines going twenty feet into the ground and back up all over the place.”

Some students giggled. Archie bent down to the soil, placing his hand on it.

“It’s packed with essence,” Archie observed.

“Y’all have Blanche to thank for that,” Quince said. Blanche shied away, tucking her chin into her chest and avoiding eye contact. But she couldn’t hide her smile. “She’s been spending her spare time here helping me out and wanted to give you guys a head start.”

Choruses of “thanks Blanche” echoed through the greenhouse as the students examined their own plots more closely.

Through the window, Archie saw Aubergine approach from across the pastures, cradling a large woven basket in his arms.

“Y’all’ll have to tend to your own plots from here on out,” Quince said.

“But I’ll still help anyone that needs it,” Blanche added. Already, the greenhouse was hers, and she was the greenhouse’s. As she nourished it, it nourished her. Her shoulders didn’t hunch forward anymore. She didn’t pick at her fingernails. She didn’t cry. The Blanche from Colby’s kitchen was nowhere to be found.

“We do have some extra plots,” she said, assuming the role of the instructor. “These over here will be community plots. I went ahead and started planting some stuff in them. I hope no one minds.”

She smiled as big as anyone had ever seen from her.

And no one in their group was evil enough to say anything to jeopardize that smile.

“Yoohoo!” Aubergine called as he entered with his basket. He plopped it down, showing it to be full of small canvas bags with little bulges in them. “I brought seeds!”

As the students came up to take their pick of seeds, Aubergine seemed to have a quip for each of them.

“Don’t use those all in one place!”

“I’m just glad to see these go to a loving home.”

“Don’t water these after midnight.”

“These are either eggplant seeds or zakdar seeds. That’s a root vegetable that gives off a fatal odor when picked. Literally fatal. But I’m pretty sure these are eggplant seeds. You’ll be fine.”

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“Archie! I’ll give these to you, but only if you join me on my morning jog. Kidding! But really, join me some time.”

Archie took a handful of durum wheat seeds and some stalk cuttings of sugar cane.

“Spend a bit of time with them in the light before you put them in the dirt,” Aubergine recommended.

Everything Aubergine said sounded like a joke, but Archie sensed the sincerity in that statement. Aubergine tossed another bag at Archie.

“Oh, and Archie, I know you’re a man on a mission but…plant some blueberries, too. I’ve heard you have a talent for them. It’d be a shame to let that go to waste. Nori, too.”

Archie wanted to get started on gaining an affinity to things that would help in combat. He hated the thought of wasting time on blueberries, but he obliged Aubergine’s request anyway. He sat in his plot with his seeds and stalks, trying to pour whatever essence he had into them. He felt them respond to him—the blueberries louder than the rest.

He looked over at Nori, who scooped dirt around a little foot-tall lemon tree that Blanche helped to plant.

“Hey Nori. I bet I can grow more blueberries than you.”

She shook her head. “No you can’t.”

“Take the bet, then.”

She looked at him and sighed, disappointed not at the challenge but at the lack of weight behind it. “Beating you isn’t even worth it.”

Blanche watched in silence, smiling as her eyes darted back and forth at the verbal spar.

“Then let’s make it worthwhile,” Archie said. “Loser makes dinner for a week.”

“Sounds like punishment if I win,” Nori joked. “But sure.”

While others hurried to plant their seeds, Archie worked more deliberately. By the time he put his durum wheat seeds into the soil, half of the class had already rushed off to enjoy a bit of weekend before their sponsored work. His leg tingled with agonizing emptiness, forcing him to take a break. He felt a bottomless pit form in his stomach, but he continued. By the time he finished planting his blueberry seeds, only a few students remained.

Archie got started on his sugar cane, working the dirt with a trowel and digging a trench along the edge of his plot. He put his hand in the freshly dug soil, feeling for the essence contained within, but instead he only felt his own emptiness. Blanche noticed his frown, tiptoeing across another plot to reach him.

“Hey Archie,” she said. “You’ve been at it for a while. You should take a break.”

He wiped sweat from his forehead. “I’m fine. I mean, I’m tired. I just really put a lot into Head Chef Colby’s class.”

The mention of the name made Blanche wince.

“Speaking of,” Archie continued, “we missed you in class today.”

“Oh…” For the first time since the other students stepped into the greenhouse, Blanche’s spirit sunk. “I just…have a thing about kitchens…”

Archie knew better than to ask, but between the curiosity on his face and his silence, Blanche knew he wanted to know more.

“I’ll tell you about it,” she said “...if. You do me a favor.”

“Sure.”

“I’m hungry. I skipped lunch, and I still have to tidy up some things here before I’m done.”

Archie laughed. “You must be starving!”

“I’ve been snacking…but yes.” Blanche let out a big sigh, her breath catching her bangs and flipping them over her forehead. “I think we both need a little bit of nourishment at this point.”

“So you want me to make you something?”

“If you don’t mind. If you want you can bring it down here. We’ll eat and then I’ll help you with the sugar cane.”

“Okay. Any cravings?”

She thought for a moment. “What do you want to make?”

“I have some dough that’s been resting overnight. I could do a white wine pasta with mushrooms and leek.”

“Ooo, that sounds good.”

“No. Way. He was drunk?!”

“Completely hammered.”

Blanche roared with laughter—Archie had never heard her so loud. She whipped her spoon back over her shoulder as she laughed, sending a piece of bowtie pasta into the dirt plot behind her. The rest of the students had gone, leaving just Archie and Blanche eating pasta while sitting in the soil, their orange jackets dusted with brown.

She shoveled another piece of pasta into her mouth, but she never stopped smiling. Archie could hardly believe it was the same Blanche. Between the meal, the conversation, and the magic of the greenhouse, Blanche had never seemed so alive.

She wore a smile well. Archie had never noticed any distinguishing features on Blanche, but in her animated state, they came alive. A nose that was sunburnt and a little too big for her face with nostrils that flared with every laugh. Chapped red lips. One eye that could hardly stay open during a genuine smile. Jet black eyebrows sticking out like fuzzy caterpillars between her brown hair and hazel eyes. Ears that stuck straight out from her head, their little points sticking out of her hair. In the light of the lanterns and the moon, each imperfection reclassified itself as a unique beauty.

Archie couldn’t help but stare.

“Oh I wish I had seen that,” Blanche said. “Do you think Oliver meant to get him drunk?”

“I don’t think so. I think—I think his subconscious made the drink alcoholic.”

Blanche laughed and then sat up straight with a revelation. “His candy! Head Chef Pomona asked if he used alcohol. I think his essence just naturally skews that way.”

“Ooooh. Maybe that’s his calling. We know it’s not pasta.”

She swatted at the air toward him. “Oh, stop. Poor Oliver. He’s going to lose his sponsor.”

“Maybe he just needs to go all in on alcohol and find a sponsor for that. Do taverns count as restaurants for sponsorship purposes?”

Blanche shrugged. “Maybe. I mean, my sponsor counts. I got lucky with them. I get to work in the field all day.”

“Who did you get again?”

“Blue Orchards,” she said with pride.

“Oh, I had something from them on my first day in Ambrosia City! An apple with blue skin.”

“Blue skin?” Blanche tilted her chin down and smiled like she knew something that Archie didn’t.

“Yeah.”

“And the inside?”

“It was…an apple. You know…appley.”

“Not blue?”

“The inside? No.”

She bit her lip, her shoulders shaking in a silent chuckle. “Oh Archie. You got ripped off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah.” She took another bite of pasta, speaking through her chewing. “Lots of people make cheap knock-offs of Blue Orchards. They make the skins blue with some kind of powder that they rub in. But the inside? They can’t figure out the inside.”

Archie sulked down into a slouch. “I think I paid half a silver for that thing.”

Blanche laughed and took another bite.

“I love working with soil,” she said. “I didn’t know that about myself until I got here. Only thing I knew about myself was that I hated working in kitchens.”

“Why’s that?”

She rocked her head from side to side as she chewed. “My sister. Not that she ever did anything to me directly, but—she’s a really good Chef. Like. Really good. Black Jacket good.” She flicked her spoon up for emphasis. “Like too good to be number two at Cafe Julienne good. That’s where she was before she left. She could’ve taken over if her name wasn’t Raclette.”

“So why does that make you hate kitchens?”

“Oh.” Blanche looked to the side, her shame keeping her from making eye contact. “Just…I’ll never be her. She’s one in a million. But people hear that Raclette has a younger sister and they think maybe I’ll be one in a million.”

She took a big breath. “But I’m not. Not in the kitchen, anyways. So I disappoint them. And it sucks, because maybe if I were an only child I would enjoy being in the kitchen. But now it’s just…a place where I’ll never be good enough.”

She leaned back and held her arms straight out from her body, spilling from both bowl and spoon. “But here? Here I feel like one in a million. I feel like I found my thing, you know?”

A warm, fuzzy feeling pumped through Archie’s heart. “I’m happy for you, Blanche.”

She held the spoon up near her cheek and made a cute pose. “Thanks. Now.” Her demeanor changed. All business. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re going to need to redig your trench. When your sugar cane grows, with the way the greenhouse is oriented, it’s going to block the sunlight for your other crops. So you need to plant it in a strip from one walkway to the other. Come on, I’ll help you.”