Page 54 of Famous for a Living

Oh, this is a nightmare.

“How deep is that?” I ask.

“About forty feet, they say,” Mina responds chipperly, as if proud to know and be able to relay such facts. “It used to be a town, actually. They just built the dam right over it back in the forties.”

“A completely artificial lake.” Kevin sniffs. “Absolutely destroyed the natural habitat.”

“Go off the grid, Kevin, and you can talk.” Jax rolls his eyes.

I swallow. “What do you mean? Like . . . they just covered an entire town with water?”

Mina nods. “We lose scuba divers every year. It’s actually pretty dangerous diving down there because of all the old houses and trees and things.”

Oh my gosh. This is seeming like the beginning of a horror movie more and more by the second.

We hear the first splash as someone jumps into the water, and Mina loops her arm around mine. Spotting an opening in the line, she simultaneously drags me while shouldering Jax. “All right, guys. Kannery Park represent. Let’s go!”

What I want to do, what I feel very much like doing, is digging in my heels while Kevin follows along, giving a lecture on the negative effects of dams on the environment. But despite being five feet even and weighing no more than a hundred pounds, Mina has the strength of that elk rooted to the middle of the road last week despite how many times Jax honked his horn. And just as much stubbornness. I can just hear her now.

The pep talk about overcoming my fears.

The gotta-have-team-spirit slogans.

The very real possibility that she snaps her fingers and Jax throws me over one shoulder and tosses me in, all while yelling, “Kannery Park forever!”

And I want to have team spirit. And be fun. And maybe, just a little bit, I do want to jump in and get to experience the high of being part of a group. A team. I really do want to belong.

But the reality is, having sea salt waves crash around me while I laugh and hold up a tube of sunscreen for a shoot is one thing; jumping into water so deep and black and cold my heart might give out on impact is another.

A very different other.

I raise the phone in my hand. Put on my cheeriest tone. “Smile, everyone. I want to get some group before-and-after shots.”

“Get your shirt on.” Mina pushes the T-shirt hanging limp at Jax’s side at his chest. “Let’s get someone else to take it, Cat. You need to be in the picture.”

“No, no.” I wave off the idea.

Uncle Terry comes out of nowhere and reaches for the phone. “I’ll take it—”

“No!” the group says unanimously.

The man has quite literally built a house by hand, but to press the giant and singular button on the screen would be too much.

“Really,” I say. “I’ve got it.”

I draw the camera up as the group bunches together. The line is moving quickly and starting to get away from us.

“But you’re jumping. Right?” Mina says as I take several clicks on the camera.

I hedge. “I’m . . . not sure.”

She squints. “You’re not jumping?”

I get a couple more shots and scroll back through the photos.

Mina’s brows are furrowed in all of them. She’s giving the same face she gave when she woke up one morning last week to discover I’d cut the number of friendship bracelets I was wearing in half.

“Leave her alone.” Jax peels the T-shirt back off. He smirks at me, scratching his bicep while trying to flex nonchalantly. “This’ll get her a better view from the sidelines. Isn’t that right, Kitty Cat?”