Quint shoots me a look. I smile sheepishly back.

“And I don’t have time to train anyone new, but it would be nice to have an extra hand over the summer. And then you show up and … I don’t know. It seems a little serendipitous.”

Quint raises an eyebrow. “Extra credit, huh?”

I shrug. “I need to bring up that grade somehow.”

“Oh, and Quint…” Rosa sets a hand on his shoulder and her expression is suddenly disheartened. “I was going to send you a text when I got a second, but … well, Luna was brought back today. She was found up at Devon’s Beach, horribly dehydrated.”

It’s clear this news is upsetting to Quint. I suspect Luna is the sea lion she mentioned earlier, but I’m surprised at Quint’s reaction. He doesn’t even try to disguise his horror.

“Is she…?”

“Opal is with her now. It’s touch and go so far. You know how these first hours are so critical…”

Quint swallows, then nods. “She’ll fight. She did last time.”

Rosa, though, doesn’t look as confident. “It seems like she’s still having problems feeding herself. I’m worried…” She makes a sound in her throat, hopeless and distraught. “It’s possible we may not be able to rehabilitate her. If she pulls through this, we might need to consider other options. I don’t know. Let’s wait and see what Opal finds out.”

Quint drags a hand through his hair, making the front stick up oddly above his brow.

A sorrowful silence falls between them.

I inch forward. “Um. Who’s Luna?”

Quint shuts his eyes, like he forgot that I was there, or maybe he was just hoping that I’d magically vanished. “No one.”

But Rosa answers, “She’s a sea lion that was found washed up on the beach last year. We had her for five months and thought she was ready to go back, so we released her a few weeks ago. But…” She shakes her head. “She was brought in again this morning.”

“How do you know it’s her?”

“We tag all our animals, so we can keep track of them even after they’re returned to the ocean,” says Rosa. “And … she was always one of Quint’s favorites. I’d recognize her even without the tag.”

Quint frowns at her, then turns his irritation on me. “You should probably leave,” he says. “We have things to do here, and I’m sure you don’t actually intend to volunteer.”

I straighten. “You don’t know that.”

“Please. You? Working with sea animals?”

“Quint—” says Rosa warningly, but he cuts her off.

“It’s a terrible idea, Mom. Trust me. Morgan and I can handle the feeding and washing just fine, especially now that I’m on break.”

“Morgan isn’t coming in today,” Rosa says. “She had an accident this morning and had to go to the hospital.”

“Hospital?” says Quint.

“I guess she broke her leg and will be out for a few weeks, at least.”

“Broke her leg? How?”

Rosa shrugs. “She said she was doing some painting and fell off a ladder.”

My heart skips.

Hold on. Morgan.

Oh, criminy.

“Okay, okay.” Quint waves his hands at his mom. “I’ll handle it. You go take care of the pools. I’ll start in on the food.”

“And…?” Rosa tilts her head toward me.

Quint’s voice darkens. “We’ll see.”

His mom must know this is all she’s going to get from him right now. And she also must sense the animosity between us. She flashes Quint a grateful smile and heads back out the door. I spot Shauna still outside, standing over one of the pools and jotting notes on a clipboard.

“Well,” says Quint, the second his mom out of earshot. “I have a lot to do. See you around, Prudence.” He turns to head down the long corridor.

“Hold on!” I say, following him. “I am redoing that project whether you like it or not, and I’m not leaving here until I have enough science-based information that I can go back and outline the best plan for ecotourism the state of California has ever seen.”

He spins back so fast I nearly crash into him for the second time that day. His thick eyebrows are drawn tight, making his features look almost severe. I’m startled to realize he’s angry. Not irritated. Not mildly annoyed. This is actual anger.

Quint Erickson doesn’t get angry.

I take a step back, though I’m not proud about it.

“Do you ever listen to anything anyone else says?”

I blink at him.

“In case you weren’t paying attention, we took in a new rescue today, which means Mom and the vet already have enough to deal with, and we’re suddenly short-staffed, which leaves me to clean two dozen pools and feed almost a hundred animals, and you and I both know that you didn’t come here today so you could slop around buckets of fish guts.”

I grimace.

“On top of that, Mr. Chavez made it very clear that he would only accept revisions if they’re a team effort, and there is no power in the universe that could get me to spend another minute working with you.”

I gape at him, speechless. His breathing is ragged, his cheeks red. It’s a side of Quint I’ve never seen before, and it takes me a second to realize … he’s not just mad, though clearly I’ve done something to upset him. No. He’s stressed.

Laid-back, not-a-care-in-the-world Quint Erickson actually takes this job seriously.

When I don’t say anything, he turns and walks away. His words echo around me. No power in the universe …

I try to dig up my own anger. He can’t just walk away. He has to help me with this project. He has to at least let me try.

I squeeze my fist, trying to summon that very power, because he’s wrong. Maybe the universe could persuade him to do this project with me. Or it could at least punish him for being such a jerk about it.

I stand there, shoulders tense, fist clenched, and wait.

Until—

Something hard clobbers me on the head.

“Ow!” I yelp, spinning around. The push broom that had been hanging from a couple of wall pegs a second before clatters to the floor. I rub the side of my head where it hit me.

“What?” says Quint. I turn back to see that he’s stopped walking and is scowling at me, like he thinks I might have just hit myself with the broom in order to get his attention.

As if.

“That broom just attacked me,” I say.

He snorts. It’s a mocking sound, and one I find patently unfair. After all, it did attack me. And it hurt!

Except, I know that it wasn’t really the broom. It was something much bigger.

What’s the big idea, Universe?

“Should I call the doctor?” Quint says.

I glower as I pick up the broom and hang it back on the pegs, checking that it’s secure before I hastily step away. When the broom doesn’t make any more sudden movements, I face Quint again. “Look. I know this last year was miserable. I don’t want to redo this project any more than you do. But I cannot get a C!”

“Not my problem.” He starts to turn again.

“I’ll make you a deal!” I’m practically shouting now.

Quint stops walking. He massages his brow. “I’m not interested—”

“You help me with this report. Not a lot, just enough to show that we did it together. You know, tell me more about the center, and maybe we can spend just a few minutes brainstorming ideas about how we could tie it into the local tourism?”

He rolls his eyes skyward. “Great. A brainstorming session. My favorite.”

“In return,” I say, my heartbeat quickening, “I’ll work here for … for a week. Every day. You don’t even have to pay me.”

He looks at me askance. “Yeah, because … volunteers generally don’t get paid. You know that, right?”

I flinch. “Of course I know that. I’m just saying … you’re shorthanded, you’re overwhelmed—”

“I’m not overwhelmed.”

“Your mom certainly seems to be.”

To this, he doesn’t argue.

I press a hand to my sternum. “I’m here. I can work. You know I have a strong work ethic. I can”—I brace myself—“schlep fish guts, or whatever you need.”

He watches me, and for the first time I can tell I’m making progress.

I attempt a smile. I’m getting dangerously close to begging, but all that matters is that he says yes.

But he doesn’t say yes. Instead, he says, “Four weeks.”

I sneer. “Four weeks? Every day? Um, no. I think there might be child labor laws—”

“Not every day.” He considers. “Four days a week.”

“Two.”

“That’s only eight days, which is only one day more than your original offer.”

I shrug.

“Four days a week,” he repeats. “That’s how much Morgan worked. Hopefully by the end of your sentence, she’ll be back.”

I twist my lips to the side. Four weeks. With Quint.

It sounds dreadful. But I have to keep my eyes on the prize.

“And in return?” I ask.

Quint sighs. “We can redo the stupid project.”

A smile spreads across my lips and I’m two seconds away from an actual squeal when he takes one giant step toward me and lifts a finger between us. “But this time, we are going to actually work together.”

Oh, please, I want to say. He’s going to lecture me on teamwork? The guy who couldn’t be bothered to show up half the time?

But I’m so close, so I decide it’s best not to bring this up. We’ll see how involved he really intends to be once we get started. All I need is for him to sign off on the final product, but now is not the time to discuss details.