I’m barely listening. “Weird, isn’t it?” I muse, as much to myself as to Quint. “That something like a pair of vintage boots can spark such completely different reactions in people? To Shauna, it’s recycling and supporting a small business. To Morgan, it’s animal cruelty.”

Quint nods. “The world is complicated.”

I realize it’s the same with the billboard. What I saw as an unforgivable crime, Morgan saw as something completely different. To her, she was trying to give a voice to the helpless cows of this world that probably don’t want to be turned into cheeseburgers.

But the universe punished her. The universe sided with me.

I want that to mean something, except the universe also stole Maya’s earring, and I’m now thoroughly convinced that was a bad call.

I frown up at the sky. At nothing. At everything. What were you thinking, Universe? What’s your endgame here?

And, a question I probably should have been asking all along …

Why involve me?

“Hey,” says Quint, touching my elbow. “Don’t let her get to you. She just feels strongly about these things. But we’re all doing the best we can, right?”

I peer at him, not convinced that’s true. Because if we were all doing the best we can, then there’d be no need for karmic justice in the first place.

THIRTY-THREE

“Which brings the total donations to…” Shauna hums to herself as she punches a few numbers into a calculator. The money from the donation jar is spread across the table in the break room. Stacks of green bills and an entire bank vault’s worth of quarters and dimes.

I want the number that’s about to come out of her mouth to be spectacular. Mind-blowing. I want everyone to gasp and cheer and high-five each other.

But I know what the number is going to be. Or at least, I have an idea of what it’s going to be.

My jaw is clenched as I brace myself to look surprised.

We’re all in the staff room, me and Rosa and Shauna and Morgan and a whole bunch of volunteers … and Quint. Even though this is supposed to be his day off. His second day off in a row, and the second day on which he’s shown up anyway. I keep telling myself not to make assumptions. He came yesterday to watch Lennon and Luna being introduced for the first time, and he’s here now because he’s curious to know how the fundraiser went. We’re all curious.

It’s not like he’s here to see me.

Rosa beats her palms against the table, faking a drumroll. Quint and a couple others join in.

“Three hundred sixty-four dollars and eighteen cents!”

There’s a moment of stillness in the room, and I know it’s that space between high expectations and a disappointing reality. That moment in which expressions are dismayed, before everyone hastily tries to cover them up.

I glance at Quint. He’s frowning at the piles of money, and I know he feels the same way. There should be more. Wasn’t there more? He catches my eye, the corners of his mouth wrinkling with a frown. I return the look.

He doesn’t know the half of it. There shouldn’t just be more. There should be a lot more.

I want to go track down that beachcomber and demand an explanation. Why would she lie to me about selling that earring and donating the money to our cause?

My attention shifts to Rosa. She’s smiling at me, but there’s an apology behind it, like she feels bad for me. My gut wrenches.

“It’s not terrible,” she says. “It’s on par with how our past fundraisers have gone. A little better than some of them, actually.”

I force myself to smile. I know I’m doing a lousy job of concealing my own disappointment, despite how chin-up everyone around me looks.

“It’s more money than we had last week, at least,” I say.

“That’s right,” agrees Rosa. “It is.”

But we’re all smiling through our frustration. Especially Quint and I, who put hours and hours into that event. We tried so hard.

“But remember,” says Rosa, “the purpose of the cleanup wasn’t to raise money. It’s far more important that we filled eleven huge trash bags with garbage that otherwise would have been going right out into our oceans.”

I nod. “Plus, one of our big priorities right now is to raise awareness, and for a lot of people in our community, this was the first time they heard about us. And I like to think we made a pretty good first impression.”

“Absolutely,” says Rosa. “We should all be proud of what we accomplished this weekend.”

A few volunteers start to clap and it’s a struggle for me to swallow back my bitter disappointment and believe my own words. I still feel like I failed. Three hundred and sixty-four dollars. I don’t even know if that’s enough money to buy a day’s worth of fish.

But wallowing about it won’t fix anything.

“On that note.” I take in a deep breath and clasp my hands together. “The beach cleanup and some of the outreach we’ve started doing, such as the website and social media pages that Quint has been building”—I gesture at Quint and he responds with an elaborate bow—“are all a part of the foundation on which we are going to build a thriving nonprofit.”

So, fine. One event didn’t save the center, but we all knew it wouldn’t.

I’m not done yet.

“Plus, I’ve already started planning our next big fundraiser,” I continue. “And I know it’s going to be an enormous success.”

I can sense Quint watching me, and I feel a twinge of guilt. I probably should have talked to him about this before bringing it up to the whole staff.

Rosa starts gathering up the money, tying rubber bands around the dollars to keep them organized. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Prudence, but maybe we can celebrate one accomplishment before moving on to the next? We still have a lot of work to be doing around here, you know.”

“No,” I say fervently. Then I hesitate. “I mean, yes, of course, taking care of the animals is number one. Always. But now that we have people talking about us, we can’t lose this momentum. Strike while the iron is hot! And I already have the perfect idea.”

Rosa sighs and I can see her preparing to hit the pause button on whatever I’m about to say, so I rush forward, grinning excitedly, my hands flashing through the air as I look around at the other volunteers. “We are going to host an end-of-summer fundraising gala!”

There are a few raised eyebrows, a few confused frowns, plenty of curious smiles.

Beside me, Quint murmurs, “Gala? I thought we decided against that.”

I glance at him. “I’ve had a change of heart.”

One eyebrow shoots up, and that confirms it. I definitely should have discussed this with him first. But … too late now.

The idea came to me right after the beach cleanup and I’ve spent the last few evenings making plans. I wish I had a fancy report or presentation board that I could use to convey all my ideas, but for now I’ll just have to get everyone on board through my persuasive exuberance.

“We’ll find a nice venue to host us, with live music and a fancy cocktail hour followed by a three-course dinner … The best part is that the opportunities to raise money are endless. We can have a raffle or a silent auction or both! And we’ll sell tickets to the event, plus I’ve been reading about this fundraising tactic called a ‘dessert dash’ that I know will be a hit, and—”

“Okay, okay,” says Rosa, raising her hands. “That all sounds great, of course. But it also sounds expensive. Maybe it’s something we can consider for next year, when things aren’t so tight.”

“No, no, we can do it! That’s the thing—if we do things right, we’ll hardly have to pay a dime. I’ll get donations from local companies for the auction items, and sponsorships from businesses and community leaders. I can make it work.”

I can see Rosa waffling, her face crinkled with hesitation.

“Trust me,” I say more forcefully now. “I’ll make it work.” I hadn’t planned on this, exactly. I’d hoped that the money from the beach cleanup would allow at least a small budget for pulling the gala together. But I’m too committed to let a little thing like money stop me. I’ll find a way.

Rosa sighs, her gaze lingering on the piles of money on the table. “All right,” she says. “You know what? The cleanup was your idea, so … here. You want to throw us a fancy gala? Here’s your budget.” She pushes the stacks toward me. Some of the quarters tip over, fanning across the table with a magical clinking noise.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I mean, this belongs to the center now. Don’t you need it for food or new equipment?”

“Honestly, it wouldn’t go far,” says Rosa with a light laugh. “If you think you can take this money and turn it into a whole bunch more, then you deserve a chance to try.” She shrugs. “And a gala does sound like fun.”

My heart lightens. Determination wells up inside me as I reach forward to take the money. It’s hardly enough to throw a fancy party on, but it’s better than starting with nothing.

I know I can turn this three hundred and sixty-four dollars into a whole lot more. Now it’s time to prove it.

The staff disperses, off to their various tasks for the day. I’m on food prep, again, and Quint offers to help, despite technically having the day off. I’m more than happy to accept. We head down the stairs, and I’m bubbling over with excitement, with ideas, with potential.

“So. A gala, huh?”

I cringe and glance back at Quint over my shoulder. “I should have mentioned it to you first. I just—”

He waves a hand. “Hey, if you think you can pull it off, then I’m all in.” He hesitates, before adding, “Can you pull it off?”

I grimace. “I think so?”

He laughs. “Well, then. What are you doing tonight?”

I stumble and nearly take a nosedive off the last step. I barely catch myself on the rail.