How to Name a Tree

“Good afternoon class. Today we are going to be discussing your senior project. You have three categories to choose from and anything goes, as long as it remains within the boundaries of your category. Any questions?”

“I have one,” A blonde girl, roughly seventeen, with gray eyes, and not the British grey, but the American gray. Her face is always set in a permanent smile, which has led people to calling her a clown, even though nothing about her resembles a clown. She is also one of thousands of descendants of Genghis Khan, the great military leader and her right pinky toe is 7.3356 centimeters shorter than the left one, which she has in fact measured.

“Yes Lilah,” the teacher points to her, and we won’t waste the time to describe her since like most high school English teachers above the age of thirty, which is surprisingly a lot of people, she has basically the same story as all the others. Lives in a suburb south of the city with a husband, two or three kids in college, and at least one dog, typically a mixed breed of who knows what, and poodle.

“Can I plant a tree?” Lilah asks, the gears in her head already spinning hundreds of miles an hour.

“In what way do you want to plant a tree?”

“Well typically you dig a hole, put the tree sapling in it, and then bury it again. I think that’s right.”

“Real smart. I meant why do you want to plant a tree?” the teacher sneers, not appreciating the jest, which in fact, Lilah has carried the funny gene from her ancestor, Genghis, who was well known for his jokes. Well at least if they laughed they weren’t killed, but you know, survival of the fittest and all that.

“I just think they’re neat.”

“Give me a real reason, on paper, and I’ll allow it. Just pick a partner.”

Lilah looks across the room and makes eye contact with another girl, Joanne, who is sadly not descended from Genghis Khan, but instead Einstein, which automatically makes her smart. Joanne looks down at her mahogany composite desk and Lilah keeps searching until she meets the eyes of a boy, who could be described as good looking, if you thought the underside of a potato was good looking. He smiles and gives a small wave, which Lilah replies to by picking him as a partner.

“I’ll work with Oswald.”

Oswald’s face turns the color of red velvet and also looks down at his mahogany composite desk, suddenly very interested in a stray pencil mark.

“Works for me. I want that report by tomorrow, okay?” the teacher, who is actually a very nice lady if you actually had the energy to get to know her, agrees and turns back to her lecture, laying down more guidelines, which I will summarize for you.

1- No vandalism or crime permitted

2- No music or muscial productions

3- Absolutely no food of any kind, we all know how that ends up

4- If any weapon is to be made or produced such as spears, swords, or crossbows, they must be approved beforehand so conversation can be allowed with the school office

Class breaks up at the bell and Lilah runs over to Oswald, who doesn’t see her approach thanks to his severe nearsightedness and the fact that he was facing the complete opposite direction.

“So,” Lilah starts, making Oswald jump, “You’re gonna help me plant a tree?”

“Apparently. Why did you pick me anyways?” he asks, his voice stereotypically nasally, which might I add, is very offensive and harmful since us nerds have massive brains and sometimes it clogs up our nasal cavities due to massive intellect, but I digress.

“Cuz you looked at me, silly.” She playfully slaps his arm and he actually winces.

“You are an ever changing enigma, Lilah Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is.”

“Why thank you Oswald Jettison.” she smiles and he smiles weakly back.

“How do you know my last name?”

“I know everyone’s last name.” she starts walking to the lunch room and he follows behind, already enchanted by her odd personality. Purely for research purposes of course.

“Why? Oh wait. Let me guess. Just because?”

“Ew, no. Not just because. Just cuz. Because takes too long to say. And it has a waaaaaay different meaning than ‘cuz’.”

Oswald notices that Lilah walks with a certain spring in her step. Not quite a toe-walker, but almost. Which somehow makes her look like shes on a trampoline.

“Creek.” she says suddenly, making him jump again.

“What?”

“Creek. My last name is Creek. Lilah Ophelia Creek. My parents are a little strange.” she gives another dazzling smile and pulls a bright pink lunch box out of her backpack, the inside crammed with chips and junk food.

“No way you eat that for lunch,” Oswald peers into his brown paper bag at his mushy apple and bag of gummies.

“Every dang day.”

“How are you so thin? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Well I have a little secret. It’s called a ‘high metabolism’. I burn it all off. Very quickly. So I always have to eat. Like all. The. Time.” As if to prove her point, she scarfs down a bag of potato chips and almost immediately rips open a candy pouch. As some of you cursed with a high metabolism may know, we have to always eat. All the time, as Lilah put it so well. It is a constant need to devour everything in your fridge and pantry, then go out and buy a lot of groceries, just to eat them as well. Very high stress way of life.

“Good secret to have I guess.” Oswald replies, eating his one bag of gummies.

“Sooooo. You gonna help me write this report?” she asks, looking dead in his eyes.

“We need a real reason as to why you want to plant a tree. Not a ‘just cuz’. A true reason that Mrs. Malinowski would appreciate. Something about helping the environment or saving land from construction. Something intelligent. You have any ideas?’ he looks up at her and realizes that she’s halfway across the room throwing a large pile of chip bags in the trash. He sighs and pulls out his phone, typing up a quick note for the report, assuming he’s going to have to write the whole thing by himself. Lilah sits back down and smiles that smile, making him relax just a little.

“I was thinking we could write it about how the tree will help create a habitat for a super specific type of bird and how it will also help clean up the CO2 in the atmosphere while producing oxygen for the rest of us. It will also add shade to the ground below it, reducing drought risk. Sound good?” she says, shocking him into silence.

“Uh. Yeah. Sounds perfect.”

“Awesome sauce. I’ll write the first page if you can write the second, that way we both get credit. I’m gonna do some research about the best tree to plant. And we have to name it.” she finishes the rest of her food and throws it in a trash can a little closer this time.

“We have to name it”: he asks when she gets back.

“Of course we have to name it. It’s just right. Start making a list tonight.” she gets her stuff and walks away, leaving him tongue tied yet again.

Three Weeks Later

“Well the tree is at my house, now we need to figure out a place.” she says over the phone, her voice tinny in Oswald’s earbuds.

“Why not just plant it at your house? It’s close and we won’t have to get a permit.” he offers up, which makes her laugh.

“Oswald, My yard is maybe ten feet long and like eight feet wide. Not a whole lot of space.”

“Fine. We’ll plant it at mine. I have a decent sized back yard. Meet me at my place tomorrow at like eleven.”

“Night or morning?” she jokes.

“Please don’t show up at eleven at night. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Might want to sleep a little longer then. You need it.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Meet me here. I’ll send you my address.” he opens his message but Lilah interrupts him.

“No need. I already have it.”

“How and why? Should I even ask?”

“No. Probably not.” she smiles so hard he can hear it in her voice.

“Good to know. I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, his voice cracking with joy.

“Yep. See you tomorrow.” she laughs and hangs up, that beautiful noise the last thing he hears before his phone goes dead.

The next morning, which happens to be the complete solar nexus of every known star in the next three galaxies to the left of us but is also completely unimportant because space is massive and terrifyingly empty an devoid of all things that we know and love like iced coffee, books, and weighted blankets, Lilah pulls up in her mom’s beat up SUV, loud music rattling the windows. She steps out and adjusts the waistband of her work jeans, the knees splattered with paint, clay, and other assorted stains common to working in an art studio every other day from five to nine. She skips up to the front door and smashes the doorbell button over and over. A smaller woman, probably in her late forties, rips open the door in a scarily identical motion like that of a baboon waving a stick around and yelling about circles.

“Who are you and why are you breaking my doorbell?”

“My name is Lilah Ophelia Creek, and i am your son’s best friend in the whole wide world. Just ask him.” she smiles and somehow Ms. Jettison relaxes, almost by magic.

“Well come on in Lilah. I’ve heard so much about you?”

“Only good things I hope?’ she chuckles, looking around the house for any embarrassing photos of her friend as a baby.

“What bad things can you be known for in high school?” Ms. Jettison asks, leading Lilah down the hall.

“I have no intention of finding out,” she answers, earning a small laugh from the older woman.

“You sure have a great personality. What are you working on again? If I am allowed to ask, of course.”

“We are planting a tree and naming it for a senior project.”

“Oh good, you’re here. Come in,” Oswald calls from his room, his level of cleanliness next to that of a hospital. Everything in his room was in a set spot and had labels on everything, even the chain pulls on his fan, which were creatively named ‘wind’ and ‘fire’.

“Let’s go plant a tree. I have in in the back of my mom’s car.” Lilah says and almost drags Oswald out of the house, with him protests the whole time and his mom laughing a little too loud, but it was fine, since she hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. The go out to the car and Lilah pulls a five gallon bucket out of the back, a small spruce sapling barely sticking out of dirt.

‘Do you have a place to put it?” she asks, already halfway to the back yard, which isn’t fenced in because the Jettison’s don’t have any pets that could wander away.

“I was thinking the corner by the shed. Once it grows, it’ll bring in some natural shade and be nice for whoever lives here after us.” he shows her where and stabs a shovel in the ground.

“Here is good. Let’s dig.”

If this were a movie or TV series, there would be a montage of digging scenes along with some sort of corny music, usually a country song or soft rock, but this is a story, and we can’t do that, but feel free to imagine it however you want. They finish the hole and stick the sapling in, pushing more dirt over top of it so only a small shoot of green in visible.

“What’s it’s name?” Lilah asks, turning to the red faced, out of breath, boy.

“I made a list,” he answers and pulls out his phone. He scrolls for a bit and finds the right note. “Here are potential tree names as follows; Pam, Pan, Patrick, Patricia, Leopold, Cleopatra, Oakley, Whitney, Waldo, Ralph, Ralph with an ‘F’ instead of a ‘PH’, John, Paul, George, Clooney, Peter, Mark, Luke, Johann Sebastian Bach, Bach Bach, Mozart, AMADEUS!!!, Wolf, Piggy, Sap, Root, Tree. That’s all I got. What about you?” He puts his phone away.

Lilah makes a show of clearing her throat and turns to the tree. “Your name is Greg. It is final. Greg.”

“Greg? Greg? Why didn’t I think of Greg? It’s perfect. Nice one Lilah. Why did you pick Greg?”

“Just because,” she smiles that dazzling smile, and Oswald falls in love.