Page 36 of Famous for a Living

Kevin’s gaze turns to me. He looks me up and down as if to say, “Really? Does she even know the life span of a bighorn sheep?”

I push a strand of would-be-better-if-I-hadn’t-blown-a-circuit-this-morning curls behind my ear.

I can be outdoorsy.

I once made a New Year’s resolution to walk instead of hail a cab every chance I could through winter—despite the elements. And I would’ve kept it up, too, had the smog and humidity not partnered up in attempts to kill my hair. (Which sounds ridiculous, I know, but when you are trying to do a shoot and Prada doesn’t exactly want you associating their heels with your jungle hair . . .)

I also took a bird-calling class once as an elective, by choice.

Yes, it was technically in elementary school after-school care.

And yes, it was technically because Sophie Hunter was taking it, and she was the coolest girl in fourth grade due in large part to her plethora of Lisa Frank gel pens. But still.

I am quite good at discerning between the calls of a mockingbird and a cardinal.

Probably.

Almost definitely.

At any rate, Kevin’s skepticism and Uncle Terry’s unwavering confidence make me determined to do my best. He may not be paying me much (and that’s really underplaying it), but the fact that he’s acting like he wants me here—needs me here, even—makes me feel important.

And these days, I need that.

A part of me needs to feel like I have a place, a purpose.

And frankly, Kannery National Park is the only place I actually feel that.

“What about Cades Peak?” Jax says. “If she’s going to be showing off anything, it should start there, right?”

For the first time Uncle Terry hesitates as he eyes me. He shakes his head. “Too cold for that. Just around here is good for now—”

“I’m up for going,” I interject. “I’m happy to go anywhere.” I look from Jax to my uncle. “And if it’s somewhere important . . .”

“Better not this time. Let’s just wait until it warms up.”

I frown. “And when, exactly, is that?”

Silence.

I have a feeling I know the answer, and the answer is two to three months from now.

“Maybe when you get on something heavy duty,” Terry says. “That jacket is awfully thin.”

“This?” I look down at my white coat. “Oh no. This is really warm. It’s battery-operated to stay at 98.5 degrees.” I flip my coat pocket inside out and show him the button.

This seems to pique everybody’s interest, because a moment later, they’re shuffling forward to get a better view.

“Huh,” Uncle Terry grunts, although I can still hear a little dubiousness in his voice. “Well, isn’t that clever.”

“Our aunt and uncle used to do the same thing with a heat lamp on their chickens,” Kevin chimes in. “Worked every night until a blizzard knocked the power out. The chickens weren’t acclimated and froze to death.”

“Well, Catherine’s not a chicken,” Uncle Terry says, his bushy brows forming a straighter-than-usual unibrow at Kevin. He shifts to me. “Sounds like a plan, Catherine. You’ll start by heading up to our jewel, Cades Peak. Who’ll take her?”

The way he looks at the group, I feel a bit like I’m up for auction.

“Oh! I will!” Mina jumps on her toes, but Terry quickly dismisses her.

“You’re working the visitor center for guests.”