Page 42 of Instant Karma

I go ahead and rap my knuckles against the door. I wait, but all I hear are the continued yelpings from whatever sea animal is making all that racket.

After a few seconds, I check the knob. It opens and I peek my head into a small room, which I suppose might pass for a lobby, though it’s smaller than my bedroom at home. A collection of houseflies are buzzing around a single wooden desk that is overflowing with paperwork. One wall is covered in fake wood paneling, almost identical to the stuff in our basement that was remodeled in the seventies. There’s a collection of framed photographs showing men and women holding hoses and push broom and grinning at the camera, or linked arm in arm on the beach, or examining a sea turtle on a metal table.

On the opposite wall is an open door that leads to a long, narrow hallway. A quick glance makes me think of a horse stable, with a series of low walls divided into sections—separate rooms for the animals. But instead of hay, this stable has linoleum-tiled flooring, and it reeks of fish instead of fertilizer.

Next to the door is a framed movie poster—the iconicJawsposter, of all things.

But no, on closer inspection I see that it’s a spoof. The giant shark head looming up from the depths is actually a gray speedboat seen from above, and the swimming girl has been replaced with a harmless-looking shark. The title,Laws, has a caption:HUMANS KILL 11,400 SHARKS PER HOUR. SHARKS KILL 12 HUMANS PER YEAR. PETITION TO CHANGE SHARK-CULLING LAWS.

“Per hour?” I mutter. Can that statistic possibly be real?

I also can’t help but shudder at the second number. The idea of being snagged in the ocean by a great white has literally kept me up at night, and I’ve never even seenJaws.

A single sheet of white office paper catches my eye. Someone has printed anotherJawsspoof poster and taped it next to the poster. This time, the title readsStraws, the swimming girl has been replaced by a sea turtle, and the “monster” coming out of the deep to devour it is nothing but a bunch of plastic straws in the shape of a shark’s head.

I chuckle. That’s actually pretty clever.

The barking of sea animals suddenly increases and I turn toward a screened-in back door. Beyond it is a large courtyard full of chain-link fences and blue plastic pools and… well, I’ve found the noisemakers.

I inch my way around the desk, careful not to bump any of the teetering paper stacks, and approach the screen door.

The courtyard has no fancy tanks. No giant aquariums. But a heck of a lot of seals. Or maybe sea lions. Or otters? I don’t know, but they’re shiny and relatively cute and taking turns splashing through the plastic pools or chasing one another around the concrete that shines with puddles of water everywhere.

I notice that, while some of the pools are small plastic kiddie pools like I’d buy at the variety store on Main Street, there are other larger pools built into the ground along the far side of the courtyard. An array of awnings and pop-up tents and tarps tied to the tops of the chain-link fences offer mottled shade as the sun tops the side of the building. A tangle of hoses wind their way from platform to platform, and there is equipment piled up in every corner: coolers and pool nets and scrubbing brushes and more plastic buckets than you’d see at the local hardware store.

A door bangs off to my right, making me jump. Two women, wearing identical yellow T-shirts, emerge from the far end of the building. They approach one of the kiddie pools, which is housing a solitary animal. It watches the women approach, its whiskers twitching around its nose.

“Excuse me?” I say, pushing open the screen door. It screams on its hinges.

The women spin toward me. One of them looks to be about my mom’s age, with wispy black hair pulled back into a messy braid. The other is older and stockier—seventies, maybe—with white hair curled in a bob and a strand of pearls around her neck that don’t go with the basic T-shirt at all.

“Hello?” says the younger woman. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, maybe. My name is Prudence Barnett, and I’m doing a project on local ecotourism. I was hoping to learn more about this center. What you do here and how it benefits the local wildlife, and also the community. Maybe I could even… help out? Like, on a volunteer basis? For a few hours… or ask you some questions, if you’re not too busy?”

The older woman laughs and tucks a clipboard under one arm. “Oh, sweetiepie. We’re always busy.” She sighs and looks at the other woman. “I’ll see if I can dig up those pamphlets from last year to give to her.”

But the dark-haired woman ignores her. Her eyes are on me, her brow taut. “Did you sayPrudence?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I dare to take a few steps away from the door. I glance at the nearest pool, which is behind one of the fence enclosures. The animals there don’t seem to notice that there’s a stranger in their midst. That, or they simply don’t care. “I won’t take up too much of your—”

“You go to Fortuna High?” she interrupts.

I pause. “Yes.”

“Huh.” The woman’s gaze slips over me, head to toes, but I can’t tell what she’s trying to assess. “I think you might know my son. Quint.”

I freeze. My expression remains neutral, professional, but inside I’m shocked. This is Quint’s mom? And also… he’s mentioned me? To hismom?

Drat. I can only imagine all the horrible accusations he’s cast my way. If he rants about me half as much as I’ve ranted about him, then it’s going to be a long uphill battle to get on this woman’s good side.

I briefly consider apologizing and excusing myself and scurrying away, but I hold my ground. My smile brightens, and I try to forget that Quint and I have been mortal enemies for the past nine months. Maybe, justmaybe,all he told his mom was that we were lab partners, tasked with doing our semester project together.

“That’s right,” I say, giving an extra bubble to my voice. “We were lab partners this year in biology. You must be Rosa?”

“Yes.” She draws out the word. She seems more than a little confused. “This is our office manager, Shauna.”

Shauna smiles at me, her round face dimpling. “So lovely to meet a friend of Quint’s. I’ve been wondering when he’d start bringing girls around. Thought it was only a matter of time.”

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