And there it is. That’s what this is about.

They think I stole it.

“I don’t know.” My voice is strained, and somehow I feel like I’ve already incriminated myself. Because I did know about the earring and the money. I knew there was money missing.

“This is your opportunity to tell us the truth,” says Rosa. I can tell she’s trying to be gentle about this, but at the same time, there’s anger simmering under her calm exterior. “The woman said she talked to you, so I believe you were the only person who knew there was such a large donation made that day.”

I shake my head. “She did tell me about the money, but I don’t know what happened to it. I didn’t take it.”

“I saw you!” Quint snaps. His voice is so loud, so harsh, I jump from the sound of it. Unlike his mom, he’s making no show of trying to disguise his fury. “I saw you in Shauna’s office, pawing through that jar! And all that money you had in your backpack! You’re honestly going to try to say it wasn’t you?”

“It wasn’t!” I’m yelling now, too. Desperation hums through my veins. He can’t think I did this—this thing I absolutely did not do!

Although, whispers an irritating little voice. Although, I had intended to take it that day …

I swallow. That isn’t the point. I’m innocent.

Quint pushes himself away from the bookshelf and takes a couple steps toward me, his arms flailing aggressively as he talks. “You stood right in front of me, a wad of cash in your hand, and lied to my face. How could you do this?”

“I didn’t do anything! I … yes, I knew about the donation, and I wanted to count it and see how much the total was, but when I did, there wasn’t nearly as much there. Only … three hundred and whatever. Whatever Shauna told us the next day.”

Quint’s glare turns sharp. His words are sharper. “You told me you didn’t have time to count it.”

My stomach twists. “I…”

He lifts one eyebrow, waiting. But I can’t look at him, not when he’s looking at me like that. I close my eyes. “I did count it. But I was … the money wasn’t there. The twelve hundred dollars was already gone. I didn’t take it.”

“Right,” says Quint. “And what else have you been lying about?”

“Nothing!” I open my eyes, determined to face him, to make him see he has this all wrong.

“What about going through our mail? What have you been looking for, exactly? More donations? More money? More things you can take without anyone realizing it?”

“Stop yelling at me!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“Quint, that’s enough,” says Rosa, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He shakes her off and takes a step back away from me until he’s half-sitting against Rosa’s desk, arms tightly crossed again. “I get that your family is having money problems. I know you want to help your parents. But … really, Prudence? Stealing from an animal rescue shelter? And from my mom, from me?”

The first tears spill out, sliding down my cheeks. I hastily brush them away, but they keep coming. “I didn’t. Take. That. Money.”

“Then who did?” he asks.

“I don’t know! Maybe nobody. Maybe it got lost.”

He snorts, the sound so derisive and disbelieving it makes me wants to throttle him. “Please. You had the opportunity, you had a motive. It’s crime scene 101.”

I glower. “Innocent until proven guilty. It’s justice 101.”

He rolls his eyes. “You could just admit it, you know. Give the money back?”

“I didn’t do it!” I yell, tossing my hands toward the ceiling.

His nostrils flare and I see a tiny crack in his armor. A doubt, perhaps. A desire to believe me, if nothing else.

Then he looks away, and his face hardens again. “You are a lot of things, but I never thought you’d stoop as low as this.”

“Oh?” I say, a dare in my tone. “And what things am I, exactly?”

It’s a mistake, this question. I know he will rise to the bait, and I know I will never be able to unhear whatever comes out of his mouth, and I know I will regret for the rest of my life that I asked for it.

But I don’t back down. Maybe I want him to hurt me. Maybe, on some level, it will be easier to believe we never would have worked out anyway.

He holds my gaze, but I see him hesitate. The goodness in him, warring with his anger. I take a step forward, goading him on. I don’t even care that his mom is here. Let her hear it all—the worst of him. The worst of me. What does it matter?

“Go on,” I say through my teeth. “Not two days ago, I was pretty and confident and fun. But what do you really think?”

“Well, you’re clearly a liar,” he says, his eyes flaring. “You’re self-absorbed. Critical. Judgmental. A hypocrite. Selfish. And honestly, trusting you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life.”

“Quint,” says Rosa. A warning, but too late.

He’s done.

We’re done.

Hurt makes my insides boil. I want to scream at her, at both of them. I want karma to reel up from the ethers of the universe and punish him for daring to judge me like this.

I squeeze both fists tight. As tight as I can. It’s never worked on Quint before. This horrible, backstabbing power has always failed me when I tried to do something to Quint. But this time, he’s being downright cruel.

This time, he’s breaking my heart.

This time, he actually deserves it.

My fingernails dig into my palms.

Tears blur my eyes.

To my surprise, Quint winces in sudden pain. He turns his face away from me, his jaw clenched, his face contorted. A hand comes briefly to his chest, like something has hurt him there, but he just as quickly drops it. He does not meet my eye again.

And maybe it’s trite, and maybe it’s naive, but I hope—oh, I hope with all my being that his heart might just have shattered, too.

“Prudence,” says Rosa, stepping between us, maybe afraid that I’m about to start throwing things. “You should go.”

My breath catches. That’s it. I’m being fired. I don’t even get paid, and somehow, I’m being fired.

Jaw tight, I reach into my bag and pull out the notebooks and folders I’d been keeping for the gala. I throw them on Rosa’s desk and turn on my heels.

I leave, practically running down the stairs and through the small lobby.

I crash into a woman on the doorstep. Shauna startles and catches me. “Whoa, calm down there, sweetie pie. Are you all right?”

I swipe the tears from my eyes. I can’t look at her. I just want to get away.

Then my attention catches on her necklace, a sparkling pendant worn against her chest.

My breath snags.

It’s Maya’s earring.

Shauna cranes her head, worry etched across her elderly face. “Prudence?”

Shaking my head, I back away from her. Stumble off the stoop and grab my bike. I swing my leg over the seat and pedal away as fast as I can, trying to drown out the memory of Quint’s harsh words.

I’m a good person.

Selfish. Critical.

I am a good person.

Judgmental. Self-absorbed.

I. Am. A. Good. Person.

A liar. A hypocrite. A mistake.

My vision is blurred. I can’t keep going. I pull over onto the sidewalk and drop my bike against a palm tree before collapsing beside it. The sobs overtake me.

“I’m a good person,” I cry to myself, to no one. Maybe to the universe, if it’s listening.

But a question digs at me. Quint’s words, barbed and hateful. His accusations. My own insecurities.

I believe I’m a good person.

But what if I’m not?

FORTY-THREE

“You’re donating a basket,” I say, my jaw unhinged. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

My dad gives me a sympathetic look, even as he’s tucking a gift certificate for Ventures Vinyl into an envelope. “I understand that things didn’t end well between you and the animal rescue, but that’s hardly the animals’ fault.”

“They accused me of stealing!”

He tucks the card into the basket, along with a John Lennon bobblehead doll and a guitar-shaped Christmas ornament, among the other musical tchotchkes. “Okay. You tell me. In all honesty. Are they doing good work there? Are they deserving of people’s donations or not?”

I press my lips together. It feels like a betrayal. My own parents—who can barely support themselves—opting to donate a gift basket to the gala’s auction? It’s bad enough they put one of the posters in the store window. That they have flyers promoting the gala next to the cash register. Whose side are they on, anyway?

But I can’t tell him that the center doesn’t need the money or that they won’t do something worthwhile with their donations. I think of Lennon, my sea lion, that I haven’t seen for almost three weeks, and that I hope with my whole heart is doing well, and I know Dad is right. Just because Rosa and Quint accused me of stealing money doesn’t mean the animals should be punished. They’ve suffered enough.

I groan. “Fine. Whatever. Do what you want.”

“I usually do.” Dad hums along to the record playing over the store speakers as he puts the finishing touches on the basket. “I’m going to run home in a bit, grab some lunch. You need anything?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Fine, fine, fine. I’m always fine these days.

Grumbling, I stomp back behind the counter. Jude is standing in front of a box of records that were brought in yesterday. Dad has started letting him price the new stock, teaching him how to evaluate the condition and look up the market value. He’s holding a Motown record in his hands, but he’s watching me, concerned.

He’s been concerned ever since the Incident. He knows, more than anyone, how crushed I was. I still haven’t told anyone about me and Quint—what would be the point? But while my parents think I’m upset over being wrongly accused of something I didn’t do and then fired for it, Jude can tell there’s more to the story. I’ve walked in on him and Ari in the store’s back room a couple of times, talking in worried, hushed tones, and I know they were talking about me. I’ve done my best to ignore them.