The four of us, along with our fellow Candidates, had made our way across the line of boats, climbing from one to the next until we reached the one closest to the shore. I was about to supply Sadie-Grace with the definition of the word naked when Hope saved me the trouble.

“You can leave everything but your swimsuits here, ladies,” she announced. “You’ll ditch the suits before you jump.”

“Oh,” Sadie-Grace said. “That kind of naked.”

My primary concern had less to do with what we’d be wearing when we jumped than it did the height we’d be leaping from—and the depth of the water we’d be plunging into.

“Scared?” Campbell asked beside me.

“I don’t do scared,” I told her. “I also don’t do broken necks.”

“People jump off Falling Springs all the time.” Lily held her head high as she stripped down to her swimsuit. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me or herself. “These aren’t the only cliffs at the lake; they’re just the only ones at a spot where the water gets deep really fast.”

“I cannot help but notice that you ladies are still fully clothed.” Victoria appeared beside us and zeroed in on me. “Of course, disrobing is optional. Totally your call.”

The Candidates were many. The Chosen were few.

“Will you be joining us?” I asked her. Whether Campbell made good on her plan or I went with mine, talking required face time.

Victoria studied me for a moment. “That depends,” she said with an arch of her eyebrow. “Are you four planning to jump from one of the lower ledges—or the top?”

Climbing to the top of Falling Springs required looping around and navigating a wide path through the brush and rocks along the side. Behind me, Campbell fell in beside Victoria. I let her, keeping my focus on the climb. The incline ranged from mild to the occasional vertical that required finding a steady tree limb or stone to grip for support. I’d just grabbed on to a rock and tested it as a handhold when Victoria latched her fingers onto its side.

I glanced back and saw Campbell trailing by five or six feet. I was betting that meant her attempts at conversation had been less than fruitful. I’d just about decided on a way to bring up Ana when Victoria saved me the trouble.

“I don’t have a sister named Ana,” she informed me without prelude. “Or a cousin. My mother is my father’s second wife. He was in his sixties when I was born, so if you’re looking for a Gutierrez in her thirties . . .”

She very purposefully trailed off and pulled past me. I barreled onward, pulling even with her an instant before the path narrowed to allow only one of us through at a time.