If, until this point, Joan had been able to convince herself that being an astronaut was a cerebral affair, she was cured of it now as she sat on a boat just off Biscayne Bay with a harness on, preparing to crash-land in the ocean.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead. She kept imagining the moment when she was supposed to disconnect from the boat.

Griff was guzzling water like his life depended on it. Donna was chattering away, as if talking nonstop would dispel her terror. Vanessa was silent, watching the wake behind the boat.

“There are sharks in the water,” Griff said to Joan under his breath. “Just because we didn’t see them the past two days doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Right?”

“Here, mostly hammerheads and tiger sharks,” Marty said. “I’d be surprised if we saw a great white, but it’s certainly possible. Maybe some bull sharks.”

“So then just say yes,” Lydia said. “Nobody needs a list.”

Donna had told Joan that Marty and Lydia had slept together that first Friday they’d all gone out to the Outpost. This had made perfect sense to Joan. Both of them were more in love with the sound of their own voices than listening to anyone else. She pictured them carrying on two conversations at once, talking only to themselves, and having the most wonderful time.

But today, Marty said something about Atlantic water currents and Joan saw Lydia roll her eyes. So, unless Joan was mistaken, it seemed probable that Lydia had ended it.

People say opposites attract, but Joan had found this to almost never be true. People just couldn’t see the ways they were drawn to exactly who they feared—or hoped—they might be.

Lydia and Marty were now quarreling, Griff and Ted looked seasick, and Joan could not stand to listen to Donna talk anymore.

She turned to Vanessa. With her hair pulled back, it was easier to see that Vanessa’s cheeks were a little rosy, her skin smooth without any makeup. Joan had always worn a little mascara, a little powder. She’d been beaten into it by Barbara’s taunts as a teenager. Plain Joan.

“You’re not afraid,” Joan said to Vanessa. She’d meant it as a question, but it came out as an observation.

“I am,” Vanessa said. “Specifically of the part where we have to get out from under the parachute.”

“But you seem so calm.”

Vanessa nodded. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“Braver than me,” Joan said.

“No, not braver than you.”

Their boat slowed as it met up with the speedboat.

“I’m…” Joan blew all the air from her lungs. “I’m terrified,” she said. “It doesn’t even make any sense. I passed the other two tests well enough. But today, I…” She would swear her hands were shaking except that she could see they were completely still.

“Do you know the difference between bravery and courage?” Vanessa said.

Joan considered the question. “I don’t think so.”