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 trying to 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 with me.
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.
I frown up at the sky. At nothing. At everything. What were you thinking, Universe? What’s your endgame here?
And, a question I probably should have been asking all along …
Why involve me?
“Hey,” says Quint, touching my elbow. “Don’t let her get to you. She just feels strongly about these things. But we’re all doing the best we can, right?”
I peer at him, not convinced that’s true. Because if we were all doing the best we can, then there’d be no need for karmic justice in the first place.
THIRTY-THREE
“Which brings the total donations to…” Shauna hums to herself as she punches a few numbers into a calculator. The money from the donation jar is spread across the table in the break room. Stacks of green bills and an entire bank vault’s worth of quarters and dimes.
I want the number that’s about to come out of her mouth to be spectacular. Mind-blowing. I want everyone to gasp and cheer and high-five each other.
But I know what the number is going to be. Or at least, I have an idea of what it’s going to be.
My jaw is clenched as I brace myself to look surprised.
We’re all in the staff room, me and Rosa and Shauna and Morgan and a whole bunch of volunteers … and Quint. Even though this is supposed to be his day off. His second day off in a row, and the second day on which he’s shown up anyway. I keep telling myself not to make assumptions. He came yesterday to watch Lennon and Luna being introduced for the first time, and he’s here now because he’s curious to know how the fundraiser went. We’re all curious.
It’s not like he’s here to see me.
Rosa beats her palms against the table, faking a drumroll. Quint and a couple others join in.
“Three hundred sixty-four dollars and eighteen cents!”
There’s a moment of stillness in the room, and I know it’s that space between high expectations and a disappointing reality. That moment in which expressions are dismayed, before everyone hastily tries to cover them up.
I glance at Quint. He’s frowning at the piles of money, and I know he feels the same way. There should be more. Wasn’t there more? He catches my eye, the corners of his mouth wrinkling with a frown. I return the look.
He doesn’t know the half of it. There shouldn’t just be more. There should be a lot more.
I want to go track down that beachcomber and demand an explanation. Why would she lie to me about selling that earring and donating the money to our cause?
My attention shifts to Rosa. She’s smiling at me, but there’s an apology behind it, like she feels bad for me. My gut wrenches.
“It’s not terrible,” she says. “It’s on par with how our past fundraisers have gone. A little better