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“Mine too.”

As we hurry along the sidewalk, the first spattering of raindrops strike our heads.

“So, when is our next”—Quint pauses—“gala planning meeting?”

I wonder if he’d meant to saydate.

“Tomorrow?” I say. “I’ll call the theater in the morning, and if we can get it booked, then we should start working on our advertising plan.”

“Sounds good.”

He barely gets the words out before the rain begins in earnest. It’s so sudden, the change from fat but sparse raindrops to a torrential downpour. I cry out in surprise and duck under the nearest overhang. Quint crowds in beside me and we stand in silence, watching as the rain fills up the street gutters, puddles on the sidewalks, floods the storm drains. The few cars on the street slow down, their headlights barely cutting through the storm.

I’m so amazed at the power of the rain that I don’t realize I’m hugging myself for warmth until Quint puts his arm around me and starts briskly rubbing my shoulder. I tense. My brain nearly short-circuits.

“Hey,” he says, drawing my gaze upward. My breath catches. I’ve never been this close to him before. Never been this close to any boy before. But I know instantly that his mind isn’t on the same topic as mine. His expression is worried, his brow taut. “I’m going to go to the center.”

“What?” I say. Even this close, we almost have to yell to be heard over the downpour.

“We’re probably closer than any of the volunteers and… I want to check on the animals. We’ve had issues with flooding before, during bad storms like this. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but, anyway, I just think I should go. But I want to make sure you get home okay first. Should we make a run for the bikes?”

My eyes widen as I think of the outdoor pools. I imagine the yard flooding, and all the animals trapped and afraid.

“Yes,” I yell. “But I’m coming with you.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

I’ve ridden my bike in the rain before, but never rain like this. Downpours like this are rare in Fortuna Beach, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it this bad. Dodging puddles is like dodging land mines, and the water that courses through the gutters threatens to knock my wheels out from under me more than once. Luckily, it’s a short trip. Even with the storm, it takes us less than fifteen minutes to get to the center—our time aided by the weather’s clearing the roads of most vehicles.

We drop our bikes in the parking lot and rush to the door. Quint has a key and soon we’re inside, breathing heavy, tearing off our helmets.

We’re soaked through. I feel more drenched now than I did when we went swimming. I’m soon shivering inside the air-conditioned building.

No point getting dry though. Quint and I tromp straight through to the yard, where the animals all look like huddled dark mounds in their enclosures.

Because of the way the center is situated, with sloping hills behind it, I can immediately see why Quint was anxious to get here. Already, the back corner of the yard is swelling with water that has nowhere to go.

As for the animals, some of them are squeezed together in what appear to be frightened piles. Or maybe they’re sleeping through this torrent—it’s impossible to tell.

Others, however, seem to think this is the best thing ever. A group of sealions are playing and splashing around in the water like they’ve just gotten passes to the world’s best water park.

“What do we do?” I ask. “Do we need to get them inside?”

“Luna and Lennon need to be put inside,” Quint says. “I don’t think they’ve built up enough of a blubber layer to stay warm in this. The rest should be okay, but we’ll have to clear those pools.” I assume it isn’t the water he’s worried about—they are marine animals, after all—but there are tree branches and debris in the water, swept in by the rain, and they could easily get hurt.

I nod, and we get to work.

I prepare one of the inside pens before going back to get Luna and Lennon. They seem happy to follow me out of the storm when I herd them through the door, using a large strip of plastic to coax them in the right direction. Quint stays outside, working to relocate the animals from the flooded pools to some of the enclosures that are closer to the building.

I get some blankets for Lennon and Luna to help them stay warm. The rain wasn’t that cold, but now that they’re inside, I want them to get dry as quickly as possible. I find a couple of their toys, too, thinking it might help them feel more at home, but the toys I toss into the enclosure go ignored. Luna piles herself on top of Lennon, tucking her head against his neck. I can’t tell if she’s afraid or just tired.

At least they’re safe. I lock their gate and am halfway to the back door when an odd burbling noise catches my ear. I turn in a full circle, trying to figure out where it’s coming from, when I look over the nearest wall into an enclosure that’s currently empty.

The drain in the middle of the floor is overflowing.

Water is coming up from the ground.

My eyes widen. “Quint!” I yell. Turning, I sprint down the hallway and burst out into the yard just in time to see Quint latching the fence behind the last of the relocated animals. “Quint, the drains! They’re… water is coming up and… what do we do?”