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“When animals come into our care, we feed and rehydrate them. Our on-staff veterinarian cares for their wounds. Rehabilitation can take weeks or even months. But our goal, with every one of our patients, is to treat them until theyare healthy and strong enough to be returned to their natural habitat.” I swoop my hand toward the crashing waves.

With the sea lion secured onto the blankets, Quint and the others prepare to lift it into the crate. “Our hope is thatthisbeautiful sea lion won’t be with us at the center for long, but will very soon be brought back here, to his home. In fact, this time of year, we’re releasing rehabilitated animals back into the ocean almost every week. And if you want to be a part of one of those releases, we’re inviting all of you to join us—tomorrow afternoon, right here! We’re hosting a community-wide beach cleanup beginning at ten a.m., and once this beach is clean and safe for our animal friends, we’ll be releasing four seals that have recently been given a clean bill of health. I would love to see all of you here, helping to support our beach, our organization, and these gorgeous creatures.” The sea lion watches me from inside the crate, its eyes fearful and confused. Quint crouches down in front of it to snap a few photos with his camera, before the lifeguard shuts the grate and latches it closed.

To my surprise, the crowd cheers.

I beam. “Grab a flyer if you don’t have one yet, and you can learn more about tomorrow’s cleanup-and-release celebration! And if you can’t make it, we are accepting monetary donations! People, these animals eat alotof fish, which doesn’t come cheap.”

There are a few chuckles, but with the sea lion no longer in sight, some of the less-interested members of the crowd are already meandering back to their blankets.

“Nice speech,” says Quint, settling a hand on top of the crate. He swipes a sleeve over his damp brow. “How far out is the recovery vehicle?”

I blink at him, and he must see the horrible realization rush through me. His eyes fill with understanding. “They’re not sending one.”

“Traffic,” I stammer. “Your mom said it would be easier if we had a vehicle that we could drive it out in…”

Quint turns to the lifeguard. “Do you have a car?”

“No, man. I rode my bike here.” He points toward a packed bike rack up on the boardwalk.

“I have the wagon,” says Ari. “It should fit.”

I turn to her. Her eyes are wide and bright with concern, and I’m hit with a sudden, almost painful tug behind my heart. “Thank you, Ari. Where are you parked?”

She points, and I can see the turquoise car from here. She arrived early enough to get a premium spot, not half a block up the beach.

“Pull it around,” says the lifeguard. “We’ll have you back it up to here. I’ll help direct you.” He nods at Quint. “Keep the crowds back, all right?”

While we wait, I kneel down beside the crate. The sea lion is resting its head, its eyes closed again. I’m terrified for it. The fear that is surging through my veins is palpable.

“We’re doing our best,” I whisper. “Please don’t die, okay?”

If it hears me, it shows no sign.

A hand brushes between my shoulder blades. Quint crouches beside me and I glance over at him, his face pinched with the same concern. I wonder how many times he’s been through this. How many rescues he’s seen. I wonder how many he’s watched die, after trying so very hard to save them.

I don’t think I could stand it.

“I’ve seen worse,” he says, pulling his hand away from me and idly running it along the strap of his camera. “I think it’ll be okay.” His eyes slide over to me. “You’ll get to name it, you know.”

My heart lurches at the thought. I already feel a responsibility toward this creature, though it hasn’t been more than twenty minutes since I first saw it. To name it seems like a privilege I’m unprepared for.

“Not yet,” I whisper. “I need to know it’s going to be okay first.”

He nods, and I know he understands.

“Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?”

He shakes his head. “Not when they’re this young. When they get bigger, the males will develop a ridge on their head that females don’t have. Plus, they’re bigger and their fur tends to be darker. But it’s too early to tell on this one.” He looks at me. “Opal will give it an inspection at the center, though. She’ll be able to tell us.”

I’m digesting this information when I hear a series of short, almost polite honks. I look up to see the station wagon driving slowly along the beach. Judeand Ezra are holding back the crowd as Ari makes her way toward us. For someone who’s barely comfortable driving on residential roads, I know she must be completely freaked out. But she has her brave face on, I can tell even with the windshield dividing us.

I think I might have my brave face on, too.

To my surprise, Quint grabs my hand and gives it a hasty squeeze. Then the touch is gone, as quick as it came. He doesn’t look at me as he stands up. “Come on. Let’s get your sea lion to the center.”

TWENTY-SIX

I sit in the front passenger seat, giving Ari directions, while Quint, Ezra, and Jude cram into the bench behind us. Rosa was right. We pass hordes of vehicles trying to cram into downtown for the festival. For a long time, we’re the only car heading the other direction.