7. Freddie

FREDDIE

THEN – SOPHOMORE YEAR – NOVEMBER

E nvironmental Ethics just let out, and Alex is practically vibrating with leftover debate energy. Jesus, watching her get worked up about something is like watching fireworks go off—beautiful but potentially explosive. The way her eyes flash when she’s passionate about something does things to my chest I’m not ready to analyze.

I swear to God, this girl gets more excited about arguing over tree fungus than most people do about sex. Not that I’m thinking about Alex and sex in the same sentence. Nope. Definitely not.

We navigate through the standard cafeteria clusterfuck to our designated spot—this sad little corner table tucked away. But hey, it’s ours. Has been since that day in September when Alex declared it “strategically positioned for optimal study conditions.” Such a fucking nerd.

“I still can’t believe you defended that logging company,” she says, shaking her head. But she’s got that look—the one that says she’s actually enjoying this. Classic Alex. Give her a good argument about saving the world, and she lights up like my sister Megan does when she scores a goal.

“Someone had to play devil’s advocate.” I flash her my best shit-eating grin. “Besides, my points were solid, and you know it.”

“Good, but not good enough.” She kicks my foot under the table. “Though Professor Bam seemed impressed.”

We spent the whole class debating clear-cutting old-growth forests. Even when I brought up jobs and economic development—the kind of shit that could’ve helped Goldbend when the mine went under—she wouldn’t budge.

Part of me envies that certainty she has, that black-and-white view of right and wrong. Must be nice, having everything figured out like that.

But then I think about Dad’s medical bills piling up on Mom’s desk, about Megan’s soccer dreams, and I know better. Life’s messy as fuck, full of impossible choices and shit you have to do even when you hate it.

Alex digs through her bag—probably looking for one of her thousand weird pens—and pulls out some container that screams “eco-friendly.” Probably costs more than my textbooks.

“Homemade granola?” She holds it out like she’s offering me gold.

“Let me guess—organic, locally sourced, blessed by a flock of woodland creatures?”

She rolls those big brown eyes at me. Fuck. “Just try it, you dork.”

I grab a handful because, well, it looks pretty damn delicious, and I am starving. Even her hippie health food turns out perfect. Which is both impressive and annoying as hell, like most things about her. “Fine, you win. This is actually good.”

It’s weird how peaceful it feels back here, like we’re in our own little world away from the cafeteria chaos. These moments with Alex are starting to feel dangerous—too easy, too comfortable. Like something I could get used to.

I shake off that thought and go for distraction. “Alright, Lexie, here’s one for you. Mining: good or bad?”

“Bad,” she snaps, her face going all serious . God, she’s cute when she’s righteous. Wait, what?

I laugh to cover whatever the hell that thought was. “Come on, Lexie. Nothing’s that simple.”

“What?” Alex snaps. “It's destroying the environment! Have you heard about Mount Polley in Canada? The tailings dam collapsed in a few years back and released millions of cubic meters of toxic waste into pristine lakes and rivers. The damage is still visible today, and they got away with barely a slap on the wrist!”

I point at her iPhone—the latest model, because of course it is. “Okay, but what about that? You seem pretty attached to it.”

She glances down at her phone, confusion crossing her face. “Yes, of course. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well,” I lean in, because fuck if I’m not enjoying this rare moment of having the upper hand, “hate to break it to you, but all those fancy components? If it wasn’t grown, it was mined, Lex.”

Watching Alex Ford, champion of lost environmental causes, struggle for words is like watching a short circuit in action. Her mouth opens, closes, opens again. “That’s... that’s different,” she manages.

“Is it though?” God, I’m being a dick, but I can’t help it. It’s too much fun watching her squirm. “Look, I’m not saying the mining industry deserves a gold star for environmental friendliness. But unless you want to go full caveman, we kind of need this shit. Phones, computers, cars—where do you think it all comes from?”

Alex does that thing where she scrunches up her nose when she’s thinking. She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again. For a moment, she looks genuinely conflicted. Then she shakes her head, a determined glint returning to her eyes. “Okay, smartass. You’ve made your point. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do better. There have to be more sustainable ways to get the resources we need.”

I nod, weirdly proud of how quick she bounces back. “Now that’s something we can agree on. So what’s the master plan to save mining, Professor Lexie?”

She rolls her eyes at the nickname but can’t hide her smile. Fuck, I like making her smile. “Give me a few years at GSRI, and I’ll figure it out.”

Alex starts fidgeting with one of her weird-ass pens—seriously, who needs this many pens with flowers and shit on them? But then she looks at me all shy, and something in my chest does a backflip.

“You know, I’m... I’m glad you were there today. In class.”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

She takes a deep breath. “When Professor Bam asked that question about ecological succession, I froze. But then I saw you smirking, like you were about to say something infuriatingly clever, and I just… I couldn’t let you have the last word.”

I chuckle, remembering the fire in her eyes as she’d responded in class. “Well, I live to serve. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes, right?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s fighting a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky, Donovan.”

I grab more granola, trying to distract myself from how much I like the way she says my name. “Meg would love this hippie shit. She’s always on my case about eating better.”

Alex perks up at the mention of my family. “Your sister? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned your family before. What’s she like?”

And there it is. The moment where I either keep playing the role of carefree college guy who argues about mining over fancy granola, or I let Alex see the mess underneath. Let her see the guy who lies awake wondering if his soccer-star sister will have to give up her dreams because Dad’s medical bills are eating the family alive. Part of me wants to keep it locked away, to stay in this perfect bubble where I’m just Freddie, the guy who can keep up with Alex in debates and make her laugh. But something about the way she’s looking at me, all open and earnest, makes me want to tear down every wall I’ve built.

“She’s great,” I manage, trying to keep my tone light. “Smart as hell, stubborn as fuck. Already stressing about college apps even though she’s only in high school.”

“That’s awesome,” Alex says, and she actually sounds like she means it. “Are your parents pushing her to go to college, or is it her idea?”

The question, innocent as it is, makes me acutely aware of the Grand Canyon-sized gap between our lives. I think about Alex’s casual mentions of family vacations in Europe, the way she never seems to worry about money for books or meals. I remember the time she showed up to class wearing a Patagonia jacket that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.

Fuck it. Time to rip off the band-aid.

“All Megan,” I say, my voice rougher than I want it to be. “Mom and Dad are behind her, but...” Christ, why is this so hard? “Things got complicated when Dad lost his job this summer.” My voice cracks a little, and I fucking hate it. I wish I had a different story to tell her.

Alex’s face does that thing—that soft, sympathetic look that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. “Oh, Freddie, I’m so sorry. That must be really hard.”

Hard? Try fucking apocalyptic.

It was late June when Dad got too sick to work. Thirty-five years underground, breathing in coal dust, breaking his body for that company. And what did those corporate assholes do? Tossed him aside the second he couldn’t work anymore.

I can still hear his voice on that phone call with HR, getting quieter and quieter until it was barely there at all.

“They’re letting me go,” he’d said, like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “No package. No admin role. Nothing.”

My dad—this guy who taught me how to throw a football, who never missed a single one of Megan’s soccer games—just sat there at our kitchen table and cried. Mom held him while his shoulders shook, and I felt something inside me break.

All those years of loyalty meant jack shit to them in the end.

I remember the rage hitting me so hard I couldn’t breathe. Had to get in my car and drive, just fucking drive, until Goldbend was nothing but a speck in my rearview mirror.

That’s when it hit me. This was it. No more screwing around, no more treating college like some extended vacation with no real plan.

Freshman year, Alfie wouldn’t shut up about the money in oil and gas, how the mining companies were always hungry for fresh meat. I did my research—turns out, environmental science was my ticket in. Our program was like a fucking pipeline straight into these industries.

Good pay right out of the gate, Alfie kept saying, like a broken record. But all I could hear was: A way to take care of your family.

Driving back that night, watching the sun bleed out over Goldbend’s skyline, I made my call. I’d switch majors, work my ass off, do whatever the fuck it took. Simple as that.

I don’t tell Alex any of this though. Don’t tell her how different our worlds are.

How on earth do I explain that I’m not here to save the planet? That I’m just trying to save my family? That the industry she fights against is the same one that fed me for eighteen years before it threw my dad away like yesterday’s garbage?

But sitting here in our hidden corner of the cafeteria, watching her face, something in me wants to spill my guts. Not everything. But something.

“Yeah, it’s been rough,” I say, massacring my granola into tiny pieces. Fuck it. Here goes nothing. “Dad worked at the Goldbend mine. Twenty-three years underground before they kicked him to the curb.” The words taste like acid. “That’s why all this environmental shit... it’s personal, you know? I know you hate the mining industry?—”

“Freddie,” Alex cuts me off, leaning in. “I don’t hate your dad. Of course I don’t. I hate the corporations that exploit workers and the environment without a second thought. There’s a big difference between the executives making millions while destroying ecosystems, and someone working to support their family.”

Something tight in my chest unravels. “Yeah?”

She gives me this look—half ‘you’re an idiot,’ and half something else I can’t read. “Did you seriously think I’d judge your dad for doing what he had to do? Give me some credit here. I get that people need jobs. Especially in small towns, it can be tough.”

“I just... You get so fired up about protecting the environment. And you should. But for Dad, for guys like him... it wasn’t about destroying stuff. It was about survival.”

“I get it,” Alex says, all soft and understanding. “And I bet now that he has you to educate him about environmental impact, he wouldn’t choose that field again if he had the chance, right?”

“Right,” I say, but the word feels hollow in my mouth. Truth is, I’m not so sure. Dad still talks about the mine with a kind of pride sometimes—about the camaraderie underground, about providing for his community, about the satisfaction of honest work. Even after everything, even after the layoff and the medical bills, I’ve caught him scanning job postings for similar positions in neighboring towns.

Maybe that’s what Alex can’t fully understand, even with all her compassion. It’s not just about having no choice—for some people, it’s about identity. Three generations of Donavon men worked those mines. Sometimes I wonder if Dad sees my switch to environmental science as a kind of betrayal, even though he’d never say it.

“Is that why you switched from general education to environmental science?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice steadier now. “I needed something with better job prospects. Or well, any job prospects.” I chuckle. “Mom’s working extra shifts at the hospital, and I’ve been working at the gym as much as possible. But with Dad out of work and Megan hoping for college... it feels like we’re barely treading water sometimes, you know?”

I stop, suddenly embarrassed by my outburst. But when I look at Alex, there’s no pity in her eyes, just understanding and... is that admiration? It makes my heart do a little flip that I immediately try to squash.

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, and it’s hard not to reach out to her.

“You know,” Alex says finally, a mischievous glint in her eye that never fails to make my heart race, “if you need extra cash, I could totally market this granola. We could call it ‘Freddie’s Family Nut Mix’ or something.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh god, please no. I have a reputation to maintain, Lexie.”

“What reputation?” Alex smirks, her eyes glimmering. “The biggest dork on campus?”

“Nah, that’s all you.” I mime placing a crown on her head. “I’m the ultra-cool, handsome, charming man the ladies can’t resist.” I lean back, closing my eyes like I’m posing for a magazine cover. I crack one eye open to find her rolling her eyes, but I can see she’s fighting back a laugh.

“Okay, fine. How about ‘Freddie’s Fun Crunch’? We could put your face on the package, looking all smoldering and handsome.”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

“No! I was just?—”

“It’s okay, Lexie. Everyone thinks I’m the most handsome guy in the world.”

“I don’t think that! I was only?—”

“Lexie, Lexie, Lexie.” I look at her properly now, trying not to laugh because she’s glaring at me like I just threw her granola in the trash.

“You know what? Fine. Whatever.” She crosses her arms, all huffy.

I lose it, doubling over laughing.

“You’re too fucking easy.”

She snorts. “Oh my god, you’re impossible.” She shoves me, and I go full drama queen, falling back like I’ve been shot.

“Help! I’ve been assaulted by a tree-hugger! Someone call the Lorax!”

Alex is giggling so hard now she can barely breathe, and I find myself grinning like an idiot.

She shakes her head, smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

The words slip out before my brain can catch up with my mouth. Shit . Instead of the witty comeback I’m hoping for, Alex goes quiet, her cheeks turning pink as she suddenly finds the cafeteria floor fascinating.

“I, uh…” she stammers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, you’re... you’re not terrible to hang out with, I guess.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Did I just make things weird? I totally made things weird, didn’t I?

An awkward silence descends, thick enough to cut with a knife. Alex is still staring at the ground like it holds the secrets of the universe, and I’m frantically searching for something—anything—to un-fuck this situation.

Christ, I have to be more careful with her. She’s not like the girls I usually spend time with. She’s just different, okay? Still sees the world through rose-colored glasses, still believes in shit like true love and happy endings. Sometimes I forget how inexperienced she is, how easy it might be to push her away without even meaning to.

I love hanging with Lexie, giving her shit and studying together. Now that her guard’s down with me, I can see she’s funny and smart as hell. But that’s all it can be. She’s not looking for some casual hookup—made that real fucking clear in truth or dare the other night. And me? I’m in no position to have a girlfriend. I’ve got bigger problems than dating. My family needs me. They will always come first.

So, I need to keep my shit in check. I can’t let her think we’re something we’re not. Even though, sometimes, late at night, I catch myself thinking about her. About the way she bites her lip when she’s concentrating. About how she’d feel pressed up against?—

Jesus Christ, Donovan. Get your head out of your ass.

“So, uh...” My throat feels like sandpaper as I scramble for literally anything to say. My brain runs through every possible topic before landing on the most pathetic option in human history. “Nice weather today, huh?”

Fucking kill me.

I want to punch myself in the face.

Alex looks up like I’ve thrown her a lifeline, even though her cheeks are still pink. “Yeah, it’s... nice,” she squeaks out, glancing toward the window.

We sit there like two idiots, trying to look anywhere but at each other. Since when did having arms feel this weird? What the fuck do I usually do with my hands?

Suddenly, Alex jumps up like her ass is on fire. “I should probably go,” she says, looking somewhere over my left shoulder. “Got a... thing. For class.”

“Right, yeah.” I nod a bit too enthusiastically. “Me too. Things. Many... things.”

Someone please put me out of my misery.

Alex starts packing up her stuff, and I’m pretty sure I just royally screwed up one of the best friendships I’ve ever had. But then she stops, looks back at me.

“Hey, Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

A little smile plays at her lips. “You’re still the biggest dork on campus.”