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What? What flaps?

I look again.

Oh.They do have funny little ear things. Who knew?

“Do you know what a pinniped is?”

My nose curls in irritation. “No. But I bet I can spell it better than you can!”

He glowers at me and, yeah, I know, it was a cheap shot. But I don’t understand why he’s acting like this!

“A pinniped is a mammal that’s evolved to have fins instead of feet. Like, for example… seals! And sea lions!”

I plant one hand on my hip. “So I don’t know the terminology. What does that matter?”

“How about what kind of fish we worked with yesterday? You never even asked.”

“It’s fish! It was gross. They eat it. Who cares?”

“It matters becauseyou don’t care.All you care about is whether or not you can swoop in and take over another project so you can prove to everyone how”—he waves his hand toward me—“brilliant you are, or whatever. But you don’t know anything about these animals or what we’re doing here. Whereas my mom has been running this place for almost twenty years. What makes you think that you know better than her? Than me? Than the volunteers who have been putting their hearts and souls into this place for years? Oh, wait!” He smacks his hand to his forehead. “You think we should make moremoney? Wow, Prudence, you’re a genius. Why didn’t we think of that?”

He rolls his eyes. I’ve never been attacked with such utter derision before, and for a moment I’m left speechless, though the blood is running hot beneath my skin. Quint goes back to scrubbing the pool. The muscles in his shoulders are knotted. The volunteers in the next enclosure have emptied the bucket of fish but I can see them lingering, unsure if they need to interject themselves into our argument or are just too nosy to walk away.

“Fine. Maybe you’re right,” I say, lowering my voice. Quint keeps scrubbing. I sense that this will be the most squeaky-clean pool these animals have everexperienced by the time he’s done with it. “I don’t know a whole lot about this place. Until yesterday, I didn’t even know it existed. But I just spent the last six months researching exactly this sort of thing—how organizations that care about animals and the environment can actually be profitable. It’s a booming industry right now, and from what I’ve seen—in, admittedly, just a day—this center isn’t taking advantage of this opportunity at all. You don’t even update your Facebook page! Quint, this is exactly what our paper was about. The idea that people will pay money to be a part of something good. Something important. But first we need people to know that the center even exists. We need them to care.”

His eyes flicker toward me. There is no sign of relenting. “We?”

I frown at the implication that I am clearly not a part of this team, thisfamily.“You. Your mom. These volunteers. My point is, I can help.”

“Right. Because you wrote a report on ecotourism.” He tilts his head. “Tell me, what grade did you get again?”

I snarl. It’s a low blow, and I sense he’s getting back at me for the spelling comment earlier.

“I didn’t get a bad grade because I don’t know what I’m talking about,” I say through clenched teeth. “I got a bad grade because…” My attention darts toward the cluster of sea lions again. They’re all in the pool, but as soon as I glance over, one of them leaps out, and within seconds the rest have all charged up after him onto the pool deck. Like the world’s cutest game of follow-the-leader.

I swallow. “Because I didn’t know why it mattered,” I hear myself saying. “I know how our community can make money by focusing on ecotourism, I just… didn’t express why it’s important. Why these animals and their habitats are important.”

“Anddoyou think they’re important?” He flattens the brush on the bottom of the pool and leans on the handle. “Truly. Do you think saving these animals is a worthwhile cause? Or is this just one more box for you to check on your list of accomplishments? A nice addition to the résumé of Prudence Barnett.”

I let out a frustrated groan. “Look. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want that, but in this case, if I succeed, then so do you. So does your mom. Can’t you at least let me try?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to.”

“Why would you want to?” My voice is rising again. I don’t want to yell, but—gah—can’t he at least give me a chance? I’m tempted to take that brush out of his hand and smack him over the head with it.

He exhales noisily through his nostrils and ignores my question. Pushing the brush to the side, he grabs a hose and starts rinsing out the small pool.

Eons pass. He rinses it outthree timesbefore shutting off the hose and daring to look at me again. I’m still simmering, fingers digging into my hip. But he, at least, seems to be calming down.

I almost don’t dare to hope that maybe I’ve won him over. And only when I realize that do I begin to question why I’m bothering to win him over at all. This is his mom’s organization. She’s the one whose opinion matters.

But I can’t be fighting Quint every step of the way. I may not need him, but it sure will be easier if he’s on board.

“All right,” he finally says. His voice is rough, and I sense that this isn’t an easy concession for him to make. But I don’t care. Relief is already welling up in me. “I’ll hear you out,” he continues. “But not today. We’re swamped as it is.”

“Fine, no problem. I’ll go put on an apron and then I can help… clean. Or something.”

His cheek twitches.