Chapter 3: Desperate Measures

Amazon Prime couldn’t save me now. Two-day shipping was two days too late. Our campus was so far from civilization, even the raccoons looked lost. The nearest nursery was twelve miles away, and the only Uber driver was my roommate with a revoked license.

I doomscrolled, clutching my phone, sheets scratchy, anxiety sky-high. In the campus buy-and-sell group, someone posted: "Looking to buy lab rats fattened up on mystery meat from the dining hall, DM with price."

Someone replied: "I have, DM."

Only at Midwest State U. If you can buy cafeteria rats, maybe someone had a mulberry tree stashed in their dorm.

I posted: "Anyone got a mulberry tree? Seriously, name your price—need it ASAP!"

My desperation autocorrected half my words, but I didn’t care. I spammed the group—ten messages deep.

Didn’t expect much. But then, a DM: "You want a mulberry tree? DM."

No way.

The profile was a girl, meme avatar, username something like [Crap on my head and still gotta stir it]. Definitely a pajama-to-class type. She accepted my friend request and I messaged: "Hey, how tall is your mulberry tree?"

"6'1", maybe 6'2"."

I frowned, picturing a tree scraping the ceiling. My advisor’s tree was seven inches, max.

"Does it have fruit? What’s the situation? Are they long? Big? Edible?"

She paused forever before replying: "You..."

"What? Mulberry trees don’t bear fruit?"

"They do, but I never paid attention. Judging by the look, they’re pretty big. If you want to eat... you can eat."

"Can you send a photo?"

"...That’s not convenient to take."

Was she growing it in a closet?

"What’s inconvenient?"

"You want your account banned?"

I squinted. What kind of mulberry tree was this?

"Just check in person when you pick up."

"Alright, I’m in a hurry, can you deliver now?"

"Yes."

I nearly sobbed with relief. I begged her to deliver, offering to Venmo. She said: "Of course, you can trust me to handle it. Since you’re so sincere, I won’t charge extra, just symbolically take eight hundred eighty as a bride price."

Bride price? What is this, The Bachelor: Mulberry Edition?

"Eight hundred eighty? Why not just rob me? What variety is it, selling so expensive?"

"Don’t know mulberry tree? Campus heartthrob level—eight eighty isn’t expensive."

Whatever. Compared to getting roasted by my advisor, I’d pay anything. My finger hovered over the button. Sent. Let’s see what this heartthrob of a mulberry tree looks like.