Pineapple Tree

Lauren sat in a circle with the other freshmen who had gathered for the orientation day festivities, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her neatly pressed blouse as they waited. This moment was months of hard work in the making. Lauren had fallen in love with the university unexpectedly the prior spring during a trip with her high school band. It was her state’s oldest university, and though not on her original list of considered institutions, she was unexpectedly charmed by the historical campus.

Owing to its pre-automotive era construction, the university had no streets and students were required to traverse the paths by foot or bicycle. Despite the important role this placed on the footpaths, their layout was, at best, chaotic. The earliest design of the university consisted of a large central hall, a small church and cemetery which resided in the centre of the grounds. Throughout the years, a spattering of now centenarian trees were planted across the campus, and buildings were added to suit the needs of a growing university. Owing to a respect for the historical significance of these sites, all structures and plant life had been maintained where possible. As she lagged behind her band peers, Lauren observed that the footpaths were a complex network of new and old trails. While many paths connected to existing structures, some directed to sites that had been long vacant, and others elaborately curled around or were broken down by expanding trees.  

Although the path appeared to be a navigational nightmare, Lauren noticed the ease with which others strode towards the brick buildings. Groups of two or three would emerge from the trees and disappear in buildings or down sloping paths, their laugher lingering in the distance.

Prior to that trip Lauren had been prepared to give up the clarinet in favour of laboratory instruments. Science had been her school passion, and she had been looking exclusively at universities which specialised in pharmaceutical sciences. Yet when she returned home that night she reflected on the old cemetery, the smell of steamed oat milk drifting from cafes onto the footpath, the students little older than herself chatting, as though peers, with proper adults. She thought of the generations of important people who’d walked the old paths, and badly wanted to count herself among them.    

Lauren has been revisiting and amending this memory all morning. She had contrived a long list of questions she was likely to be asked by her new peers, and she wanted to ensure her answers adequately captured the enthusiasm she felt towards her new life and interests at the university.

In preparation for her first day, she’d spent the summer disposing of her awkward and childish belongings and transforming into the role of university freshmen. She had transitioned to full vegan and redid her wardrobe in sustainable fibres. She’d spent the weeks prior to moving on campus researching the nearest (and best) op shops, and had found some fantastic used bookstores within walking distance of her dorm. The weeks leading up to her move felt painfully slow while she dreamed of cosy evenings spent studying in cafes, and weekends filled with exploring the historic corners of the campus.

Lauren leaned against the old oak tree towering above the group. She knew from her investigation of the university’s website that it was a rare white oak, planted by a graduating class in 1899. Such species only last roughly 100 years, and Lauren appreciated the privilege of being counted amongst the decades of fresh-faced newcomers that were inducted under its branches.

“Who wants to begin by telling us their name and their major”.

When Lauren returned from her band trip, she quickly learned that the University did not offer pharmaceutical sciences. Undeterred, she took inspiration from the leafy oak prominently featured in the cover photo of the information package mailed to her house.

“Lauren, environmental sciences”, she announced to the group.   

“in fact”, she continued, “I selected that major because of this very…”

“Clare, English lit” interjected a tanned girl to her left. “Excited to be here”, she said in a tone indicating that she was not.

The group moved on and continued introductions until the last of the group had spoken.

Student orientation leader, a somewhat frazzled looking girl a few years older than Lauren, then gave the group a few moments to chat amongst themselves before they began the campus tour.

The circle jumped around with the usual sort of questions. “where are you from?”, “what class are you most excited for?”, “are you staying off campus or in dorms?”.

A moment of awkward silence arose and Clare abruptly turned to Lauren.

“Environmental sciences”, she said, “If you could be a tree, what type of tree would you be and why?”

“Oh! I suppose… I don’t know “ Lauren responded shakily.

“I’d be a pineapple tree” Clare responded.

Lauren processed this while a few snickered. “I don’t think pineapples grow on trees”.

“I used to spend the summers at this this resort in Seaside called Pineapple tree”, Clare continued. “they had this like massive tree statue out front. It was this major silver shiny thing, with golden pineapples hanging off it”.

“Wait, what!” a freshmen in a Vans 1966 beanie interjected, “I’ve also been to Pineapple tree”.

Several others began chiming in. It seemed as though more than half the group had spent time at Pineapple tree, Seaside or one of the neighbouring coastal vacation towns in their state. An excited chatter overtook the group as students began pairing up to chat about their beachy experiences. When Lauren interjected with the odd fact or correction, she found her words lost amongst the chatter.

Her gaze shifted towards the original university chapel, now retrofitted to house a Quiznos. Lauren’s family had never vacationed at the beach. Her mom didn’t like the sand, and Lauren did not care for the sun exposure.

Eventually their leader interrupted the discussion and rose the group. Lauren trailed behind the chatting students as they began their introduction to the campus. She already knew the paths, and she knew a good deal more than their guide about the local trees and shrubbery.

At the end of the tour Clare and the few of the other approached Lauren. “We were going to grab some burgers if you’d like to join?”.

Lauren had not prepared an answer.