I force myself to get back on track. Fish and mammals and sea turtles and sharks … “Straight down to the rich ecosystems of plankton and plant life found in Orange Bay. These resources are a gift, and it is our responsibility not only to enjoy them, but to protect them. Which is why, for our semester project, Quint and I decided to focus our efforts on”—I pause for dramatic effect—“marine conservation by way of ecotourism!”
With a flourish, I take hold of the blue fabric and whisk it off the display, revealing my handcrafted model of Main Street, Fortuna Beach’s tourism hot spot that runs parallel to the beach and boardwalk.
I can’t resist glancing around to see my classmates’ reactions. A few in the front rows are craning their heads to see the model, but a fair number are staring blankly out the sun-streaming windows or trying to discreetly text with their phones hidden beneath the lab tables.
Mr. Chavez, at least, looks intrigued as he studies the model. And Jude has looked up, knowing firsthand the long, tireless hours I’ve put into crafting this presentation. He catches my eye and gives a subtle yet encouraging thumbs-up.
I move behind the table so I can stand over the diorama and point out the most notable features. My adrenaline has kicked in and I no longer feel like I’m going to crumple into a ball of panic. Now I’m energized. “Our new central tourism hub will be the Orange Bay Resort and Spa, which will cater to high-end clientele. Visitors who appreciate luxury, yearn for adventure, but—gosh darn it!”—I cheekily snap my fingers—“also care about protecting our environment.” I tap the stick against the high-rise building. “Featuring recycled building materials and numerous water-conservation and energy-saving features, this resort will be the talk of the town. But our tourists don’t just come here to sleep. They come here to explore. Which is why Fortuna Beach needs new electric bike rental stations positioned at both ends of the boardwalk”—I thunk the stick down on the little bike stands—“and electric boat rentals that jet off right from the resort’s private dock.” Thunk. “But what’s really going to draw in the clientele, what’s really going to set Fortuna Beach apart as a must-see destination for our eco-conscious travelers—”
The classroom door swings open, banging hard against the wall.
I jump.
“Sorry, Mr. C!” comes a voice that makes the hair prickle on the back of my neck. My surprise vanishes, replaced with barely restrained rage.
My knuckles clench around the pointer as I slide my gaze toward Quint Erickson. He strolls between the tables and accepts a high five from Ezra, their usual daily greeting.
Part of me wishes he would have stopped by the front first and offered me a high five in greeting. It would have been a perfect opportunity to smack him with the stick.
I grit my teeth, scowling at the back of his head as he reaches our shared lab table in the back row and drops his backpack on top of it. The zipper is as loud as a jet engine. He starts to whistle—whistle—as he digs through the chaos of papers and books and pens and nine months of accumulated junk he keeps in that thing.
I wait. Someone in the class coughs. From the corner of my eye, I can see Jude beginning to fidget, uncomfortable on my behalf. Except, for some reason, I’m not uncomfortable. Normally, an interruption as enormous as this would turn me into a flustered mess, but right now I’m too busy strangling the pointer stick and pretending it’s Quint’s neck instead. I could stand here all day, awkward silence or not, waiting for Quint to realize what a disruption he’s caused.
But, to my endless frustration, Quint seems blissfully unaware. Of my annoyance. Of stopping me right in the middle of our report. Of the awkward silence. I’m not sure he even knows what awkward means.
“Aha!” he announces victoriously, pulling a neon-green folder from the bag. Even from here I can see that one corner is bent. He opens it and starts taking out the reports. I can’t tell how many pages. Three or four, probably double-sided, because who wastes paper on a report about environmentalism?
At least, he’d better have made it double-sided.
Quint hands out the reports—stapled pages for our classmates, and a three-ring binder for Mr. Chavez. He doesn’t do the efficient take-one-and-pass-it-on method that I would have done, possibly because he is the most inefficient human being on the planet.