“Hello?” says the younger woman. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, maybe. My name is Prudence Barnett, and I’m doing a project on local ecotourism. I was hoping to learn more about this center. What you do here and how it benefits the local wildlife, and also the community. Maybe I could even … help out? Like, on a volunteer basis? For a few hours … or ask you some questions, if you’re not too busy?”

The older woman laughs and tucks a clipboard under one arm. “Oh, sweetie pie. We’re always busy.” She sighs and looks at the other woman. “I’ll see if I can dig up those pamphlets from last year to give to her.”

But the dark-haired woman ignores her. Her eyes are on me, her brow taut. “Did you say Prudence?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I dare to take a few steps away from the door. I glance at the nearest pool, which is behind one of the fence enclosures. The animals there don’t seem to notice that there’s a stranger in their midst. That, or they simply don’t care. “I won’t take up too much of your—”

“You go to Fortuna High?” she interrupts.

I pause. “Yes.”

“Huh.” The woman’s gaze slips over me, head to toes, but I can’t tell what she’s trying to assess. “I think you might know my son. Quint.”

I freeze. My expression remains neutral, professional, but inside I’m shocked. This is Quint’s mom? And also … he’s mentioned me? To his mom?

Drat. I can only imagine all the horrible accusations he’s cast my way. If he rants about me half as much as I’ve ranted about him, then it’s going to be a long uphill battle to get on this woman’s good side.

I briefly consider apologizing and excusing myself and scurrying away, but I hold my ground. My smile brightens, and I try to forget that Quint and I have been mortal enemies for the past nine months. Maybe, just maybe, all he told his mom was that we were lab partners, tasked with doing our semester project together.

“That’s right,” I say, giving an extra bubble to my voice. “We were lab partners this year in biology. You must be Rosa?”

“Yes.” She draws out the word. She seems more than a little confused. “This is our office manager, Shauna.”

Shauna smiles at me, her round face dimpling. “So lovely to meet a friend of Quint’s. I’ve been wondering when he’d start bringing girls around. Thought it was only a matter of time.”

I laugh awkwardly. Oh, if she only knew. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Are you taking summer classes or something?” asks Rosa.

“Oh, no. I just…” I pause. How much to tell her? “I’m just doing a bit of extra-credit work. Everyone says I should stop being such an overachiever, but I can’t help it! And … well, Mr. Chavez’s class really gave me a new appreciation for our local sea life. I’m dying to learn more about it.”

For the first time, my answer seems to have pleased Quint’s mom.

“You do know we aren’t a public facility?” says Shauna. She unclips a pen from the clipboard, thumping it against the pages. “But I can surely help you schedule an appointment. Rosa, I’ll go check your calendar for the week.” She heads into the building, humming to herself.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Rosa. “I didn’t mean to intrude. If I could just ask a few questions about, say, local marine habitats, and maybe how tourism impacts the lives of these gorgeous animals?”

Rosa chuckles, but it lacks humor. “Well, I could give you loads of information about that,” she says dryly. “But Shauna is right. This isn’t a good day. I’m sorry. One of my volunteers didn’t show up, and we just recovered a sea lion this morning—it’s the second time she’s been brought in, which is…” The groan she makes is full of disappointment. But then she waves her hand at me, brushing her frustration aside. “Never mind. It’s a sad story. Maybe we can schedule a phone call? Or here, I’ll give you my card and maybe you could just email your questions?”

“Yeah,” I say as Rosa walks past me into the lobby. She starts riffling through a desk drawer. “That would work. That’d be great, actually.”

She finds a card and hands it to me, then stands back, two fingers pressed to her lips. Her apprehensive frown has returned. “You know,” she says uncertainly, “Quint could probably tell you as much about this place as I could. Maybe you could talk to him?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. If she’s making this suggestion, then she must not know the details of our less-than-stellar partnership after all.

“No,” I say, wishing I could snatch back the laughter as soon as it’s out. “I mean, I’m sure he’s … I just really think it will look better for my project if I can talk to the…” I glance down at the card. “Owner and director. Not, you know. Her son.”

“Well, be that as it may, I know your biology teacher was very supportive of Quint’s time here. If you do decide to come back, maybe we can talk a bit about those volunteer opportunities you mentioned. Honestly, it’s been a long time since we brought in new help, so I’m not entirely sure what I’d do with you. But with some training, it might actually be nice to have another set of hands.”

“Right,” I say, tucking the card into my pocket. “Volunteering. Yeah. I’m really sorry no one is around to … train me? I’m sure that really takes a lot of time and effort. You know, I should probably just let you get back to work. But I’ll email you some questions for sure. Thank you.”

Her eyes wrinkle around the edges when she smiles, and it’s odd how she can look simultaneously too young and too old. I find myself searching for a resemblance to her son. Her hair and skin are darker, and her eyebrows are reasonably tamed … though I suppose that could be maintenance as much as genetics. She’s a beautiful woman, and I can see vestiges of her youth. I think she might have looked more like Quint at one point. But she also seems tired, stressed. Like there’s a weight on her shoulders that hasn’t been lifted for a long time. Whereas Quint exudes a carefree confidence, like there isn’t a thing in this world that could worry him.

“Thanks for stopping by,” she says.

“Of course.” I tip my head gratefully, backing toward the door. “I’ll just let you—”

My back smacks into something and I stumble. A hand grabs my arm to steady me.

I glance over my shoulder and freeze.

So does he, his hand still gripping my arm.

“Oh. Quint,” I say, daring to smile. “Wow. What a small world!”

FOURTEEN

“P-Prudence?” Quint stammers.

He’s wearing a yellow T-shirt, too, and now I can see the logo printed on the chest. The words FORTUNA BEACH SEA ANIMAL RESCUE CENTER surrounded by a ring of turtles and seals and dolphins.

“What are you doing here?” I say, even though I’m staring right at the answer.

He works here.

But that means that Quint Erickson has a job. Or, at least, a volunteer job. I wonder if his mom pays him to be here. Somehow, that idea seems easier to digest. Either way, though, the utter lack of responsibility he showed all year long makes it impossible to imagine him staying in anyone’s employ for long.

Maybe his mom just hasn’t had the heart to fire him.

Quint lifts an eyebrow and his hand falls away. He walks around me, into the lobby, which is suddenly cramped with the three of us standing there. “I work here,” he says. Then his eyes narrow, first skeptically, and then into something almost smug. “You read the paper, didn’t you?”

I cross my arms. “Maybe.”

I wish his mom weren’t here so I could immediately start yelling at him. All my annoyances from the morning come storming back. How he went completely rogue on our project, without even bothering to inform me of the particularly relevant and might-have-been-helpful information that his mom runs an animal rescue center.

“So, what? You came here to critique my spelling?”

“That wouldn’t be my first comment, but since you’re bringing it up … you do know that Fortuna is spelled with an a, not an e, right?”

His jaw tightens. “Autocorrect,” he deadpans.

“Proofreading,” I counter.

“Okay!” he practically shouts. “This was a fun encounter. Thanks for stopping by.”

His mom clears her throat, drawing both of our gazes toward her. She looks expectantly at Quint.

His shoulders shrink into something almost like a pout, and he lazily gestures from me to his mom and back. “Mom, this is Prudence. Prudence, my mom. I think I’ve maybe mentioned her … a time. Or two.”

“Yes, we actually met a few minutes ago,” says Rosa. She smiles at me. “Quint has told me that you’re exceptionally dedicated to your schoolwork.”

Quint looks almost uncomfortable at this statement. We both know dedicated is not the word he used to describe me. Bossy, maybe. Or controlling. Or impossible to please. If he’s comfortable cursing around his mom, he might even have said worse.

I’m sure that whatever he’s told her, it definitely wasn’t something as generous as dedicated.

“Oh!” says Rosa, her eyes suddenly brightening. “That’s it! You can train her!”

My focus snaps back to her. “What now?”

“It’s perfect. You already know each other, you’ve worked together … I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before.” She sighs and tucks a loose strand from her braid behind her ear. “My brain is so scattered these days.”

“Whoa, whoa,” says Quint, looking from her to me and back. “What are you talking about?”

“Prudence,” she says, gesturing at me, “came by today because she’s doing some extra-credit work for your science class, and she wanted to get some hands-on information, maybe even spend some time doing volunteer work for us.”