“Wow. I didn’t know that. It must come in handy when you’re hunting storms. So, let me ask. How many years of experience do you have chasing?”
“None.”
“Really?”
“This is my first season getting involved.”
“Interesting. What drove you to want to be a tornado chaser?”
“I don’t want to be a tornado chaser.”
My answer caused a hiccup in the interview. Becca’s composure slipped as she glanced at Arty, who rolled a hand, indicating we should keep going.
“I’m not sure I understand.” Becca emitted a strained titter. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
I shrugged. “This is my sister’s passion. The show is her endeavor. I assure you, I got dragged into it quite by accident. In fact,” I turned to face the camera, something I’d been told explicitlynotto do. “I don’t want to be on this show. I don’t want to earn a place on Stormz Rising, so if all you viewers out there want to eliminate me, I would be eternally grateful. Please don’t vote for me.”
Arty lowered the camera. “Buddy, you can’t say that.”
“Why not?”
He looked at me like I was a dolt. “The point of the show is tonotget voted off.”
“That’s what everybody keeps telling me, except I want no part of it.”
Seeming annoyed, Arty glared at Becca like it was her fault I was out of control and not following the script.
Becca’s tone went from professional to pacifying, much like Olivia’s had done every time I voiced my opinion. I was not a child. I did not need to be coddled.
Again, Becca touched my thigh, and it was an unwelcome intrusion. “Sweetie, why did you sign up if you don’t want to do it?”
Peer pressure, I wanted to say.Because I don’t know how to stand up to anyone, especially my sister.
“I… I don’t know,” I said instead. “It was a mistake. I make a lot of mistakes. My life is one big mistake.” Hearing my words, I winced. “Can you cut that part?” I asked Arty, only then realizing the camera hung at his side.
He looked at me like I was an imbecile. “Does it look like I’m recording?”
My cheeks burned. I lowered my gaze to my lap, wishing the interview was over.
“Look,” Becca said, rubbing my leg like she was calming a child. “We’ll take that part out, and I won’t ask that question again.”
“No.” I shifted away from her touch, all too aware of Arty’s mounting frustration. “Please leave it in. The part about voting me off. I want it in.”
Becca sighed, and the interview resumed. If I thought it couldn’t get worse, I was wrong.
She asked about my hobbies, and I happily talked about photography, my travels across several states, camping in the wilderness, and my as yet undefined position withWeathermagazine.
My heart dared to calm, when…
“Our research tells us you joined the seminary before getting your degree in atmospheric science. That’s quite a shift. Does that mean you once wanted to be a priest? What changed your mind?”
A steady buzzing filled my head—taunting voices from the past that might never leave me. My skin felt too tight, and although it was likely my imagination, Arty’s gaze through the camera lens felt hostile.
He was recording. Everyone would see this. My throat dried.
In high school, I suffered from countless dreams where I attended class naked. The horror at discovering my clothes were gone, that I’d forgotten to dress, left a lasting impression. Even after waking, I heard my classmate’s laughter for days and was unable to shake the panic, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it hadn’t happened.
Becca’s question stirred a similar disquiet. It left me with raw nerves. A sense of exposure. A feeling of deep humiliation and shame.
