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The peculiar thing about drowning was, after you accustomed yourself to the idea, it hardly seemed a big deal anymore. More importantly, you can't breathe.

And though you may think that is a very big deal, allow me to assure you that you are grossly underestimating the enormity of this knowledge. I could not even conjure another thought.

I mean, if I had been able to think of anything else, I surely would have tried to remember how to flip this damned kayak back over, or maybe how upset June was going to be if I drowned. She had been so excited about this trip, and was so cute in her little life vest. I might have considered that I was never going to find out who that serial arsonist was in those Chem movies, and I wasn't going to find out whodunnit in my book.

But all I could think was, "I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe."

I was getting more and more panicked, and worrying more and more about my lack of oxygen. I was getting a little giddy and almost hoping that I would drown soon, because dead bodies didn't need air.

And then my cousin Cole flipped me over and said, "A'right there, Jemmy?" as my aunt Mae fretted and wrung her hands.