“I know it seems like diving is easy,” he said as Caddie leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes, groaning inwardly. “But it can be really dangerous. This boy ...” His voice trailed off, and Caddie realized he’d already forgotten Brian’s name. She didn’t help him out by reminding him.

“Anyway, it isn’t as easy as it looks,” her father continued. “A lot of things can happen. You can die if you do it incorrectly.”

There was silence following this pronouncement, and Caddie knew she was supposed to be impressed. “You can die walking across the street,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “You can die riding a bike.”

“The point is, this guy isn’t an instructor,” said her father. He sounded annoyed, and this secretly pleased Caddie. Finally, he’s acting like a normal father, she thought. At least sort of.

“You can’t just go diving,” her father said.

“Why?” Caddie asked him. “Is there a law against it?”

“Well, no,” said her father. “There’s no law. But you’re supposed to be certified.”

“Says who?”

She heard her father sigh. “You’re just supposed to,” he said. “A certification card says that you’ve had enough training to know how to dive safely. It’s like a driver’s license. You wouldn’t drive without one of those, would you?”

Caddie started to remind him that, technically, she was supposed to have an adult with her in the car while she was driving, but he didn’t seem to care if she obeyed that rule or not. Then she thought better of it. If she brought the matter to his attention, he might actually tell her she couldn’t drive anymore. Instead, she said, “But there’s a law about that. You said there’s no law that says you have to be certified to dive.”

“It’s an unwritten law,” her father said. “And it’s common sense. You could really hurt yourself.”

“It’s just the Breakwater,” Caddie said. Brian says that’s like skiing the bunny bowl at a ski resort.

“Well, I doubt Brian has ever had to perform CPR on someone who’s drowned at Breakwater,” said her father. “Has he?”

“I don’t know,” Caddie admitted.

“I have,” her father informed her. “And it wasn’t pleasant. Every year there are two or three deaths at Breakwater because people think they know what they’re doing and they don’t.”

Caddie opened her eyes, blinking against the bright sun. Her father was staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I’m not going to die,” she said. “I know what I’m doing.”

Her father didn’t answer. Then, while they were stopped at a light, he turned and looked at her. “I thought you were smarter than this,” he said, shaking his head.

Caddie felt her cheeks flush. “Meaning what?” she demanded.