“Nice model,” he mutters, taking his place on the opposite side of my miniature Main Street. “I see you’ve left out the rehabilitation center I suggested, but—”
“Maybe if I’d had more help, I could have catered to gratuitous requests.”
He lets out a low groan. “Caring for the animals who get injured as a result of tourism and consumerism isn’t—”
Mr. Chavez loudly coughs into his fist, interrupting the spat. He gives us both a weary look. “Two more days, guys. You have to suffer each other’s company literally for just two more days. Can we please get through this presentation without any bloodshed?”
“Of course, Mr. Chavez,” I say, in unison with Quint’s “Sorry, Mr. C.”
I glance at him. “Shall I continue, or do you have something to contribute?”
Quint feigns a bow, flourishing one hand in my direction. “The stage is yours,” he says, before adding under his breath, “Not that you’d share it anyway.”
A few of our classmates in the front row hear him and snicker. Oh yes, he’s hysterical. Next time, you try working with him and see how funny he is.
I bare my teeth again.
But when I turn back to the presentation board, my mind goes blank.
Where was I?
Oh no. Oh no.
This is it. My worst nightmare. I knew this would happen. I knew I would forget.
And I know it’s all Quint’s fault.
Panic floods my system as I pull out the notecards and fumble with them single-handed. Resort and spa … electric bike rentals … A few cards slip to the floor. My face is suddenly as hot as a stove top burner.
Quint stoops down and picks up the dropped cards. I grab them away from him, my heart racing. I can feel the class’s eyes boring into me.
I hate Quint. His complete disregard for anyone but himself. His refusal to ever show up on time. His inability to do anything useful.
“I could also say something?” says Quint.
“I’ve got this!” I snap back at him.
“All right, fine.” He lifts his hands protectively. “Just saying. This is my presentation, too, you know.”
Right. Because he did so much to help us prepare for it.
“What’s really going to set Fortuna Beach apart?” Jude whispers. I go still and look at him, as grateful for him as I am irritated with Quint. Jude flashes me another thumbs-up, and maybe our twin telepathy is working today, because I’m sure I can hear his encouraging words. You’ve got this, Pru. Just relax.
My anxiety ebbs. For the millionth time I wonder why Mr. Chavez had to torture us with assigned lab partners when Jude and I would have been such an awesome team. Sophomore year would have been a walk in the park if it hadn’t been for marine biology and Quint Erickson.
TWO
Thanks, I mouth back to Jude, setting down my notes. All I needed was that reminder, and the words come flooding back to me. I continue with my speech, trying my best to ignore Quint’s presence. At least some of our peers have turned their attention to the papers he passed out, so not everyone is still staring. “As I was saying, what’s really going to draw in a whole new variety of enthusiastic eco-conscious travelers is our phenomenal array of events and adventures. Visitors can go to the bottom of the ocean aboard private-party submarines. There will be kayaking tours to Adelai Island where you can help tag, track, and even name your own seal. And, my personal favorite, we’ll host weekly raging beach parties.”
Some of the glassy-eyed stares of my classmates come into focus at this. Ezra even lets out a hoot. He would, of course.
Bolstered, I forge ahead. “That’s right. Fortuna Beach will soon be famous for its regular beachy shindigs, where you can dine on sustainably sourced seafood and all-organic hors d’oeuvres while hobnobbing with other eco-conscious individuals like yourself. The best part? Everyone at the party receives a garbage bag and a grabber upon arrival, and at the end of the evening, after they’ve filled that bag with litter they’ve collected off our beaches, they can trade it in for a reusable tote overflowing with hand-selected gifts. Things like…” I set down the stick and reach for the bag on the floor. “A BPA-free aluminum water bottle!” I take out the bottle and toss it into the crowd. Joseph barely catches it, startled. “Take-them-anywhere bamboo utensils! A journal made from recycled materials! Shampoo bars with plastic-free packaging!” I throw each of the gifts out. My peers are definitely paying attention now.
Once all the gifts are gone, I ball up the tote bag and launch it toward Mr. Chavez, but it only makes it halfway. Ezra plucks it from the air instead. People are starting to notice that each of the gift items has been branded with the new logo and slogan I came up with.
FORTUNA BEACH: FRIENDLY ENVIRONMENT, ENVIRONMENTALLY FRIENDLY!
“These ideas and many more are outlined in detail in our report,” I say, gesturing at one of the stapled papers on the nearest lab table. “At least, I’m assuming they are. I haven’t actually seen it, as something tells me it was finished about ten minutes before class this morning.” I smile sweetly at Quint.
His expression is tight. Annoyed, but also a little smug. “I guess you’ll never know.”
This comment sends a jolt of uncertainty down my spine, which I’m sure is exactly what he intended. The paper has my name on it, too, after all. He knows it’ll be driving me bonkers to know what’s in it, and if it’s any good.
“Before we finish,” I say, turning back to the class, “we want to take a moment to say thank you to Mr. Chavez for teaching us so much about this amazing corner of the world we live in, and all the incredible sea life and ecosystems right in our backyard. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I know I want to be a part of the solution, to ensure that we protect and maintain our oceans for our children and grandchildren. And luckily for us, as I think we’ve managed to prove today: By going green, Fortuna Beach can bring in the green!” I rub my fingers together, pretending to be holding a handful of cash. I’d told Quint about how I was going to conclude my speech. He’s supposed to say it with me, but of course, he doesn’t. He can’t even be bothered to hold up the imaginary money. “Thank you for listening.”
The class begins to clap, but Quint steps forward and holds up a hand. “If I could add one thing.”
I wilt. “Do you have to?”
He flashes me a smirk, before turning his back on me. “Sustainability and tourism don’t usually go hand-in-hand. Airplanes create a lot of pollution, and people tend to produce a lot more garbage when they travel as opposed to when they stay at home. That said, tourism is good for the local economy and, well, it’s not going anywhere. We want Fortuna Beach to have a reputation for taking care of its visitors, sure, but also its wildlife.”
I sigh. Didn’t I basically say all this already?
“If you read the report in front of you,” Quint continues, “which I’m sure none of you will, except Mr. Chavez, you’ll see that one of our major initiatives would be to establish the Fortuna Beach Sea Animal Rescue Center as a top tourist destination.”
It takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes. He’s been harping on this rehabilitation center idea all year. But who wants to spend their vacation looking at malnourished dolphins in sad little pools, when they can go swimming with dolphins in the actual bay?