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Shauna makes a sound so full of disgust, I can tell she doesn’t think this comment is even worthy of a response. But for me, the conversation is starting to make sense. I look at the boots again.

They’re snakeskin. They probably weren’t cheap, either.

Shauna turns her back on Morgan and starts to head toward the building.

“You either love animals or you don’t!” Morgan shouts after her. “They’re all deserving of life! You don’t get to pick and choose!”

At the door, Shauna spins around, her wrinkled cheeks tinged red. “They’re vintage,” she says. “I bought them at Toni’s Consignment.” She counts off on her fingers. “That’s recycling, supporting a local business, and making sure that the sacrifice of these animals has a purpose, rather than them ending up in a landfill.”

“No, that’s contributing to a culture that values fashion and vanity more than the sanctity of life.”

Shauna throws her arms up in the air. “You know, you young people have mighty high opinions, but by the time you get to be my age, you’ll have learned a thing or two about not being so quick to judge others.” She lets out a frustrated harrumph and yells, “Back to work, people!” Then pivots and marches into the building. The screen door slams shut behind her.

“Hypocrite,” Morgan mutters, sneering. She snatches a clipboard off a nearby table and though I can see she’s trying to get work done, she’s writing so hard I can hear the harsh scribbling of the pen across the paper, as if the paper had done something to offend her. I’m surprised she doesn’t puncture a hole through it.

After a few seconds, without looking up, Morgan tosses one hand into the air. “You heard her. Back to work!”

Quint and I look at each other, our shoulders taut. After a few seconds, he seems to gather himself. He trudges toward Morgan as if approaching a wild animal.

I can see her cast more clearly now. The doodles are mostly sketches of farm animals interspersed with vegan slogans in all caps. Things likeFRIENDS, NOT FOOD.AndMAKE LOVE, NOT SAUSAGES.While I still barely know Morgan, somehow I’m not surprised that she’s transformed this medical accessory into a wearable protest sign.

“You do always know how to make an entrance,” Quint says. She frowns, then her gaze drops to his shoes.

And then over to mine.

I gulp.

Do my sneakers have leather in them? They might. I’ve honestly never thought of it before. But the last thing I want right now is to become the next target of Morgan’s wrath.

But either I pass inspection or she can’t tell or she just doesn’t think it’s worth starting another fight. Morgan flails a hand in the direction that Shauna went. “I hate that argument. Oh, it’svintage,so that makes it okay. It’s such bullshit.”

Quint nods, but I’m not sure if he agrees, or if this is just a tactic to try to soothe her.

I think I should probably play along, too, but… I can’t.

“Shauna kind of has a point, though,” I say, sidling up beside Quint. He shoots me a warning look, but I ignore him. “Would you rather they were thrown into the trash?”

“Yes!” Morgan says forcefully. I balk in surprise. “Because as long as people buy them and wear them, then the fashion industry will believe there’s a market for it—because thereisa market for it! Which means they’ll keep making them. Keep slaughtering innocent animals, keep raising them in these awful, inhumane conditions, and for what? A pair of shoes? When we have plenty of other materials we could make boots out of? It’s disgusting. I mean, wouldyouwear them?”

I grimace. “I don’t really like snakeskin that much.”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “Oh, how saintly of you.”

“Look,” says Quint, “I don’t know who’s right or wrong here, but… people have different… you know, principles and stuff. Shauna’s been working here for ages. She’s helped save a lot of animals. Maybe it all balances out.”

“Nice try,” says Morgan. “But the truth is, if snakes were as adorable as these guys”—she gestures at Lennon and Luna—“then we’d be having a different conversation. But whatever. Fine. You just keep eating your pork tacos and wearing your leather shoes.” She glances at my feet and for a second I feel about as big as a bug. “Because you volunteer at an animal rescue center, so that makes it all okay, right?” She tosses the clipboard back onto the table and storms off—as fast as she can, at least, limping along with her crutches and bright pink leg cast.

Once she’s gone, Quint lets out a low whistle. “Sorry about that. You’d think she’d learn that it’s easier to change people’s minds if you’re a little bit nicer, but…” He shrugs.

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 tryingto 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 withme.

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.