Page 130
Story: Instant Karma
He frowns at me for a second, then runs past me to see for himself. A second later, he’s on the phone to his mom. He’s breathless as he tries to explain to her that we’re here at the center, we moved the animals, but the drainsare flooding. I can hear her steady voice on the other side of the call, coaching him in what to do.
We find flood gates for the doors and plugs for the drains exactly where Rosa said they would be. The next few minutes are chaos as Quint and I run around the building, plugging the drains. I find one of our newer patients, an elephant seal, sleeping on top of one, and I have a long internal debate about whether we could just leave him there to keep the water at bay, but eventually Quint and I decide to wake him up and get him to move so we can plug the drain for real.
I’m exhausted by the time we have the center secured and the animals taken care of. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. A very wet marathon.
“I’m going to call my mom again,” says Quint, sounding equally breathless. “See what else we should be doing.”
I nod. “I’ll make the rounds one more time, make sure everyone’s doing okay.”
My shoes slip and squelch on the linoleum floor as I check on the animals in their pens. Most are sleeping, oblivious to the storm, but Lennon and Luna are awake. Luna is still draped over Lennon like a rag doll, her flippers covering her eyes.
I open the gate. They both startle. Lennon presses his flippers against the tile, trying to scoot farther into the corner, but he can barely shift with Luna’s weight on top of him. It’s the first time I’ve seen either of them act afraid. Usually they perk up when one of the volunteers shows up, expecting food. I regret not bringing a couple of fish with me.
“Hey, guys,” I murmur, stepping closer. It’s a constant battle to remind myself that they’re still wild animals. They could be dangerous, especially when they’re frightened.
But they don’t move as I slide down to sit on the tiled floor. I grab a slightly deflated beach ball and roll it toward them. It bounces off Lennon’s nose. He shakes his head in surprise. It’s dark in here, but not so dark that he shouldn’t have seen that. I wonder if his eyes have gotten worse in the last couple of days.
Luna rolls off him and then they’re both plodding toward me. Luna’s head nudges my thigh and I spend a few minutes stroking their fur. “That’s someintense rain out there, isn’t it?” I say, trying to keep my voice soothing. “But it’s okay. You’re safe in here. And I’m glad to see you’ve been taking care of each other.”
The rain continues to pound on the rooftop overhead, but it seems to have eased from the initial torrents.
“Prudence?” Quint’s voice echoes down the long corridor.
“Back here.” I stand up and the sea lions immediately return to snuggling each other.
When Quint reaches us, he looks concerned—but his face softens as soon as he spies the animals. “I wish the lighting was better in here,” he says. “That’d make a great picture.”
“It’s probably decent enough for a social media post anyway? People might be wondering how we’re faring with this storm.”
He nods and takes out his phone. When the flash sparks, Luna covers her head with her flippers again, but Lennon just peers up at Quint, confused.
“What did your mom say?”
“We should be good. Not much more we can do until the storm lets up. She’s happy we’re here. She wanted to come herself, but I guess there are flash floods happening all over the place and she didn’t think it would be safe to drive. And she said we might be better off staying here until the storm passes?”
I let myself out of Luna and Lennon’s pen. “I should probably call my parents, too,” I say, heading toward the lobby, where I’d dropped my phone and backpack as soon as we got here.
The phone rings twice before my mom answers, sounding frantic. I assume she’s been worried about me—but no. Ellie, who they keep trying to put to bed by eight o’clock, is still wide-awake, fighting her nightly sleepy-time routine with gusto. I can hear her wailing in the background. As for me, Mom had assumed that I was still on Main Street, probably hunkered down in Encanto. I tell her Quint and I came to the center to make sure the animals were okay, and after a moment’s hesitation, she offers to drive down and pick me up.
The offer is comforting, even though I can hear the exhaustion in her voice.
“No,” I say. “It’s all right. I’ll just stay here until the storm is over.”
“All right, sweetheart. That’s probably for the best. Be safe, okay?”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
I hang up and turn around to see—
Quint.
Quint is standing in the doorway, just a few feet away from me.
Quint is shirtless.
Quint is wearing a faded blue towel around his waist, and using a second towel to dry his hair.
I yelp. “Holy—! What—! Why are you—?” I spin back around, my face aflame. My elbow knocks my backpack off the reception desk and it lands with a splat on the floor, scattering my pens and a couple of slightly damp notebooks.
We find flood gates for the doors and plugs for the drains exactly where Rosa said they would be. The next few minutes are chaos as Quint and I run around the building, plugging the drains. I find one of our newer patients, an elephant seal, sleeping on top of one, and I have a long internal debate about whether we could just leave him there to keep the water at bay, but eventually Quint and I decide to wake him up and get him to move so we can plug the drain for real.
I’m exhausted by the time we have the center secured and the animals taken care of. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. A very wet marathon.
“I’m going to call my mom again,” says Quint, sounding equally breathless. “See what else we should be doing.”
I nod. “I’ll make the rounds one more time, make sure everyone’s doing okay.”
My shoes slip and squelch on the linoleum floor as I check on the animals in their pens. Most are sleeping, oblivious to the storm, but Lennon and Luna are awake. Luna is still draped over Lennon like a rag doll, her flippers covering her eyes.
I open the gate. They both startle. Lennon presses his flippers against the tile, trying to scoot farther into the corner, but he can barely shift with Luna’s weight on top of him. It’s the first time I’ve seen either of them act afraid. Usually they perk up when one of the volunteers shows up, expecting food. I regret not bringing a couple of fish with me.
“Hey, guys,” I murmur, stepping closer. It’s a constant battle to remind myself that they’re still wild animals. They could be dangerous, especially when they’re frightened.
But they don’t move as I slide down to sit on the tiled floor. I grab a slightly deflated beach ball and roll it toward them. It bounces off Lennon’s nose. He shakes his head in surprise. It’s dark in here, but not so dark that he shouldn’t have seen that. I wonder if his eyes have gotten worse in the last couple of days.
Luna rolls off him and then they’re both plodding toward me. Luna’s head nudges my thigh and I spend a few minutes stroking their fur. “That’s someintense rain out there, isn’t it?” I say, trying to keep my voice soothing. “But it’s okay. You’re safe in here. And I’m glad to see you’ve been taking care of each other.”
The rain continues to pound on the rooftop overhead, but it seems to have eased from the initial torrents.
“Prudence?” Quint’s voice echoes down the long corridor.
“Back here.” I stand up and the sea lions immediately return to snuggling each other.
When Quint reaches us, he looks concerned—but his face softens as soon as he spies the animals. “I wish the lighting was better in here,” he says. “That’d make a great picture.”
“It’s probably decent enough for a social media post anyway? People might be wondering how we’re faring with this storm.”
He nods and takes out his phone. When the flash sparks, Luna covers her head with her flippers again, but Lennon just peers up at Quint, confused.
“What did your mom say?”
“We should be good. Not much more we can do until the storm lets up. She’s happy we’re here. She wanted to come herself, but I guess there are flash floods happening all over the place and she didn’t think it would be safe to drive. And she said we might be better off staying here until the storm passes?”
I let myself out of Luna and Lennon’s pen. “I should probably call my parents, too,” I say, heading toward the lobby, where I’d dropped my phone and backpack as soon as we got here.
The phone rings twice before my mom answers, sounding frantic. I assume she’s been worried about me—but no. Ellie, who they keep trying to put to bed by eight o’clock, is still wide-awake, fighting her nightly sleepy-time routine with gusto. I can hear her wailing in the background. As for me, Mom had assumed that I was still on Main Street, probably hunkered down in Encanto. I tell her Quint and I came to the center to make sure the animals were okay, and after a moment’s hesitation, she offers to drive down and pick me up.
The offer is comforting, even though I can hear the exhaustion in her voice.
“No,” I say. “It’s all right. I’ll just stay here until the storm is over.”
“All right, sweetheart. That’s probably for the best. Be safe, okay?”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
I hang up and turn around to see—
Quint.
Quint is standing in the doorway, just a few feet away from me.
Quint is shirtless.
Quint is wearing a faded blue towel around his waist, and using a second towel to dry his hair.
I yelp. “Holy—! What—! Why are you—?” I spin back around, my face aflame. My elbow knocks my backpack off the reception desk and it lands with a splat on the floor, scattering my pens and a couple of slightly damp notebooks.
Table of Contents
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