32. Freddie

FREDDIE

NOW – JUNIOR YEAR – MAY

T he EcoTech Solutions headquarters stretches toward the sky, a gleaming beacon of possibility. As I step out of my Uber, the morning sun catches the building’s surface, and I have to squint against the glare. I can’t tell if that’s a warning or a welcome. Though, when have I ever been the sort of person to believe in omens?

I fiddle with my tie for the millionth time. The suit’s new – something Troy helped me pick out because apparently, I “dress like a confused college student trying to impersonate a businessman.” Not wrong, but still. When I left this morning, Ethan whistled and called me a corporate monkey, while Alfie muttered something about me looking like his piece-of-shit dad. So, that was encouraging.

Alex’s voice echoes in my head: “They killed my cousin, Freddie.”

I shove the thought away. Dr. Reeves explained this – the consulting division is different. We’re the good guys, working to prevent disasters like Lake Marshall from happening again. Change from the inside and all that crap. Still, my stomach churns as I push through the revolving doors.

“Welcome to EcoTech Solutions, Mr. Donovan.” The receptionist’s smile is practiced perfection. “Mr. Johnson is expecting you. Please follow me.”

The lobby’s a masterclass in corporate environmentalism. Living walls drip with carefully cultivated greenery, and screens display a constant stream of sustainability metrics. Carbon footprint readings. Renewable energy usage. Corporate responsibility initiatives.

“They paid a fine that probably didn’t even dent their quarterly profits.”

Shut up, Alex.

Dr. Reeves’ words surface, fighting for space in my crowded conscience: “We need people like you, Freddie. People who understand both sides.”

The elevator rises smoothly, and I watch the numbers tick up. Each floor bringing me closer to a salary that could change everything for my family.

As I walk through the corridor to Mr. Johnson’s office as instructed in my email invite, I’m impressed by the amount of environmental messaging around us. Posters of lush forests and clean energy projects line the walls, alongside slogans like “Powering a Greener Tomorrow” and “Sustainable Solutions for a Brighter Future.” It’s encouraging to see them taking this stuff seriously. Maybe Alex was wrong after all. Or maybe it’s all for show.

“Mr. Johnson will see you now,” the receptionist announces, gesturing toward an office that probably costs more than my entire education.

I straighten my tie one last time, trying to quiet the war in my head. I’m here to learn, to see for myself. Maybe it’s not as black and white as Alex thinks. Maybe I can actually make a difference here.

Maybe I’m just really fucking good at lying to myself.

Johnson stands up from behind his thick mahogany desk. His handshake is strong.

“Freddie Donovan!” He says my name like we’re old friends. “Victor raves about you. Says you understand how things really work.”

How things really work . The same crap Dr. Reeves feeds me. Or Victor.

The next two hours unfold like corporate theater at its finest. Scientists in pristine lab coats boast about their groundbreaking extraction processes. Marketing execs pitch campaigns that—surprisingly—actually seem to prioritize sustainability. I find myself nodding along, genuinely impressed, asking all the right questions. This could be the future of natural resources: clean, efficient, and profitable. What’s not to like?

“Our consulting division,” Johnson drones on as we walk, “is leading the charge in environmental protection. Real solutions, not just talk.”

I nod like a good boy, but all I can hear is Alex’s voice echoing in my mind—talking about Emma. About contaminated wells and corporate cover-ups. But that was different, right? Ancient history. This is the new EcoTech—clean, efficient, definitely not poisoning anyone’s water supply.

Jesus, I sound like their fucking brochure.

“Obviously,” Johnson continues, steering me toward another soulless conference room, “we face certain... challenges. Can’t shut down operations just because some tree-huggers are upset. The world needs resources.”

The way he says “tree-huggers” makes my skin crawl. Two years ago, I’d probably have laughed along. Now all I can think about is Alex’s face when she talks about protecting ecosystems. About making actual fucking change instead of just pretending.

We tour labs that look more expensive than my entire education, where scientists in pristine coats talk about “revolutionary extraction methods.” The marketing team shows off their green initiatives with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for cult recruitment. I almost buy it – clean mining, sustainable future, everybody wins.

Then we go to one of the local active mining sites in the middle of nowhere, and reality bitch-slaps me across the face.

Our Tesla (because of course it’s a fucking Tesla) winds through the Colorado mountains toward EcoTech’s Copper Creek operation. Johnson’s been talking the whole drive about quarterly projections and stakeholder expectations, but I’m barely listening. My mind’s stuck on those glossy photos in the lobby of “sustainable mining practices.”

Reality hits different.

The access road opens up to the site, and my stomach drops. The scale of it is... overwhelming. Terraced walls of exposed rock stretch down into a massive pit, heavy machinery crawling along the edges like toys. The water in the collection ponds has this weird blue-green tint that definitely isn’t natural.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Johnson beams. “We’ve increased output by 30% this year alone.”

I nod, trying to see it through his eyes. Jobs. Resources. Economic growth. But all I can think about is how long it’ll take for this place to recover. If it ever does.

“One of our most productive sites,” Johnson announces like he’s showing off his firstborn.

I nod like the good little corporate soldier I’m pretending to be. Efficiency. Productivity. Progress. The words taste like the dust coating my throat.

“What happens after?” I hear myself ask. “You know, restoration plans?”

Johnson laughs like I just told the world’s dumbest joke. “Son, we’ve got another half-century of extraction ahead of us here. You’ll be dead before we’re done.”

My stomach lurches. “Yeah, but others won’t be.” I think of Meg, of her future kids. “There has to be a plan.”

“Oh sure, sure.” He waves dismissively. “Got all sorts of pretty PowerPoints about that. Shareholders love their ESG bullshit these days.” His eyes slide away from mine. “But our job? Get the stuff out of the ground. It’s all lovely wanting to build a green future, but how do they plan on doing it without the resources and materials to build it with, eh?”

“If it’s not grown, it’s mined,” I mutter, recalling how I used the same argument against Alex once. The worst part is, it still makes sense. We need these resources to build a sustainable future. But this? Surely, there has to be a better way.

“Ha! Yes, boy, that’s the spirit.” Johnson clearly misses my tone, but I don’t bother correcting him.

I must have said something right during the tour—maybe it was asking about their drill spacing optimization or just nodding along while Johnson rambled on about quarterly targets. More likely, it was simply keeping my mouth shut and looking impressed—guys like Johnson love an audience.

Whatever it was, we’re back in his office, and he’s pulling out an envelope with the EcoTech letterhead.

“I’ll be honest, Freddie,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “I like you. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Not like these fresh grads we usually get, all idealistic nonsense and no practical sense.”

My stomach lurches when I see the numbers. The base salary alone could cover Dad’s medical bills. Then there’s the signing bonus, the benefits package, even a housing allowance. And beneath that, an invitation to join their summer internship program—“to get your feet wet before starting full-time.” Ugh, even that sounds gross.

“Of course,” Johnson continues, “the formal offer is contingent on your final year results. But the internship? That’s yours if you want it. Paid, obviously. Good chance to see how we really operate.”

The offer letter feels heavy in my hands. The money could solve everything.

I could do it. Take the money, help my family, try to change things from the inside.

But Alex’s voice hits me again: “They killed my cousin, Freddie.”

And this time, I can’t pretend I don’t hear it.

I slump into my chair, the leather creaking under my weight. The EcoTech logo on my laptop screen stares back at me, a constant reminder of the choice I have to make. My fingers hover over the keyboard, twitching like I’m about to throw a punch.

Fuck.

I’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours, trying to find the right words. How do you tell a Fortune 500 company to shove their job offer where the sun doesn’t shine? Especially when that offer comes with a paycheck that could solve all your family’s problems?

I rub my eyes, feeling the day’s tension coiled in my shoulders like a spring ready to snap. Megan’s voice echoes in my head, mixing with the memory of the scarred landscape I’d seen at the mining site. The contrast makes my stomach churn.

“Just write the damn email, Donovan,” I mutter to myself, cracking my knuckles.

I start typing, the words coming out in a rush:

Dear Dr. Reeves & Mr. Johnson,

I appreciate the opportunity you’ve offered me at EcoTech Solutions. However, after careful consideration...

I pause, staring at the blinking cursor. Careful consideration? More like a fucking existential crisis.

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

Dear Dr. Reeves & Mr. Johnson,

Thanks for the job offer, but I’ve decided to pursue other opportunities that align more closely with my personal values and career goals.

I snort. Personal values? Who am I kidding? I sound like a corporate robot, the very thing I’m trying to avoid becoming.

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

Dear Dr. Reeves & Mr. Johnson,

I can’t take the job. What I saw today at the mining site... it’s not something I can be a part of. I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but I can’t ignore the damage being done.

I’m sorry, but I have to decline the offer.

I lean back, reading over what I’ve written. It’s blunt, maybe too blunt. But it’s honest. It’s me.

My finger hovers over the send button, a war raging in my head. On one side, the promise of financial security, of finally being able to help my family.

I pace my room, phone pressed to my ear, heart hammering like I’m about to confess to a crime. The line rings three times before Mom picks up.

“Freddie? Everything okay, honey?”

“Mom, I—” The words stick in my throat. I sink onto my bed, running a hand through my hair. “I went to EcoTech today.”

“Oh!” Her voice brightens. “How was it? Did you?—”

“I can’t take the job,” I blurt out. “I mean, it would still depend on my final year grades, but even if I am... I can’t. Mom, it wasn’t what I thought. The things they’re doing, the way they operate... It’s not right.”

There’s a pause, and I brace myself for disappointment. For questions about money, about responsibility, about the future.

Instead, Mom’s voice is soft when she speaks. “Tell me what happened.”

So I do. The words pour out like a dam breaking – about the mining site, about their dismissive attitude toward restoration, about the sick feeling in my gut when I realized what I’d be part of.

“And I know we need the money,” I finish, my voice rough. “I know you and Dad were excited about it. But Mom, I just... I can’t. I’m only a junior though, I have time to find something else. Something better. A company that actually gives a shit about more than their bottom line.”

“Language,” she chides automatically, but there’s a smile in her voice. “Oh, honey. Is that what’s been eating at you? Thinking you’d disappoint us?”

“Well... yeah. You guys were so excited when I told you about it. Dad was so proud.”

“Freddie,” Mom’s voice is firm now. “We were excited because we thought it was what you wanted. Because you seemed excited about it. That’s all we’ve ever wanted – for you to find something you love, something you believe in.”

“But the money?—”

“Will come,” she interrupts. “From a job that doesn’t keep you up at night. From work you can be proud of.”

I swallow hard. “Really?”

“Really.” She pauses, and I hear her taking a shaky breath. “I’m sorry if we put too much pressure on you, honey. Your father and I... we worry, you know? But that’s our job, not yours. You need to follow your dreams, not carry our burdens. I’m so sorry for putting that on you.”

“Mom...”

“Besides,” she continues brightly, “your father’s been feeling better these past few weeks. The new medication seems to be working. He’s even talking about picking up some part-time consulting work from home.”

“Seriously?” Hope flutters in my chest. “That’s... that’s amazing.”

“It is. So you see? We’ll figure it out. We always do.” She clears her throat. “Now, tell me what kind of companies you’re really interested in. The ones doing good work.”

Relief floods through me, making me light-headed. “There are actually a few environmental consulting firms I’ve been researching. They work with companies to implement better practices, real sustainability initiatives. And there’s this non-profit that does restoration work,” I continue to tell her about it.

“That’s my boy,” Mom says softly, and I hear the pride in her voice. “You’ll find something perfect, honey. I have no doubt.”

“Thanks, Mom.” My voice comes out rougher than I intended. “I promise I’ll still take care of everyone, just... with a better company.”

“Freddie,” she says, saying my name like she used to when I was in trouble, but her voice is gentle. “You’ve been taking care of everyone since you were sixteen years old. Maybe it’s time to let us take care of ourselves for a bit while you figure out who you want to be.”

I have to swallow hard before I can speak. “When did you get so wise?”

She laughs. “I’ve always been wise, you were just too busy being you to notice.” Her voice softens. “I love you, honey. And I’m so proud of you – not for any job or salary, but for the man you’re becoming. The man who stands up for what he believes in.”

“Even if what I believe in is weird environmental stuff?”

“Especially then.” She pauses. “Oh, and Freddie? Tell that girl of yours I say hello. The one who’s been helping you see things differently.”

I nearly choke. “What? How did you?—”

“Mother’s intuition,” she says smugly. “That, and you talk about her every time you call. Alex, right?”

“I do not?—”

“You do. It’s sweet.” She laughs at my spluttering. “Bring her home sometime. Anyone who can make my son rethink his whole life plan is someone I need to meet.”

“Mom!”

We hang up.

“Fuck it,” I growl, hitting send before I can change my mind.

The whoosh of the sent email seems to echo in my quiet room. I slam the laptop shut, my heart pounding.

What the hell did I just do?