a gut-wrenchingly sad photograph of a sea animal, maybe an otter or a sea lion or even a seal, I can never tell them apart. It’s wrapped in fishing line, tangled up like a mummy, with lacerations cut deep into its throat and flippers. Its black eyes are looking at the camera with the most tragic expression I think I’ve ever seen.
I swallow. It’s effective for stirring up emotions, I’ll give him that.
“I see you put my name first,” I say. I’m not sure what makes me say it. I’m not sure what makes me say half the things I do around Quint. There’s something about him that makes it physically impossible for me to keep my mouth shut. It’s like there’s always one more bullet in my ammunition, and I can’t help but take every shot.
“Believe it or not, I know how to put things in alphabetical order,” he mutters back. “I did pass kindergarten, after all.”
“Shockingly,” I fire back.
He sighs.
Mr. Chavez finishes making notes on his clipboard and smiles at the class. “Thank you all for a fantastic group of presentations. I’m impressed with the hard work and creativity I’ve seen this year. I’ll have your grades handed out tomorrow. Please go ahead and pass your final lab reports up to the front.”
Chairs scrape and papers shuffle as my classmates start digging through their backpacks. I look expectantly at Quint.
He looks back at me, confused.
I raise an eyebrow.
His eyes widen. “Oh!” He pulls his backpack closer and starts rifling through the chaos inside. “I forgot all about it.”
Friggin’ figures.
“You forgot to bring it?” I say. “Or you forgot to do it?”
He pauses with a grimace. “Both?”
I roll my eyes and he lifts a hand, his momentary embarrassment already evaporating. “You don’t need to say it.”
“Say what?” I respond, even as a flurry of words like incompetent and lazy and helpless are circling through my thoughts.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Chavez,” he says. “I’ll tell him it’s my mistake and that I can email him the report tonight—”
“Don’t bother.” I open my biology folder, where the final completed lab report rests right on top, neatly typed and featuring a bonus environmental toxicology pie chart. I lean over the table and pass it up the aisle.
When I look back, Quint looks … angry?
“What?” I ask.
He gestures toward the paper, which has disappeared into the stack of assignments. “You didn’t trust me to do it?”
I turn to face him. “And I was right not to.”
“What happened to being a team? Maybe instead of doing it yourself, you could have reminded me. I would have done it.”
“It is not my job to remind you to do your homework. Or to get to class on time, for that matter.”
“I was—”
I cut him off, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just be grateful this partnership is finally over.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and though I think he’s agreeing with me, it still makes me flush with annoyance. I’ve carried this team all year long, doing far more than my share of the work. As far as I’m concerned, I’m the best thing that could have happened to him.
Mr. Chavez takes the last of the papers as they’re passed to the front. “Now, I know tomorrow is your very last day of sophomore year, and you’re all eager to get on with your vacation, but tonight is still a school night, which means, here’s your homework assignment.” The class releases a unanimous groan as he uncaps a green marker and starts scrawling across the whiteboard. “I know, I know. But just think. This could be the last chance I get to impart you with my superior wisdom. Give me my moment, would you?”
I take out a pen and begin copying the assignment down into my notebook.
Quint doesn’t.
When the bell rings, he’s the first one out the door.
THREE
“I’m not opposed to homework, generally speaking,” says Jude, idly flipping through the pages of his marine biology textbook. “But homework on the second-to-last day of school? That’s the mark of a tyrannical overlord.”
“Oh, stop whining,” says Ari from behind her menu. She spends a great deal of time studying the menu each time we come in, even though we always end up ordering the same things. “At least you get a summer break. Our teachers gave us detailed reading lists and assignment plans to ‘keep us busy’ over vacation. July is Greek mythology month. Hooray.”