How Deep Is It?

10 comments | June 12th, 2012

(story submitted anonymously, by a Chestist)

We were 14 or 15 and spending the summer at the beach.  At least in my memory, it was one of those perfect-cliche summer nights, filled with moon, stars, the smell of the ocean.  

There were 4 of us, all school friends.  We rode our bikes over to the bridge in town without really knowing what we were doing or where we were going, just pulled there by something.  We get to the bridge and J says she's going to jump the 15 feet into the water.  Then G says she will and N says she will.  There were few things I wanted to do less than that.  I was scared of the jump but even more scared of not jumping and never hearing the end of it.

J jumps unhesitatingly and straight down.  G is getting ready to follow her when J screams in pain.  None of us had thought to check and the water was only 3 feet deep.  J had hit a rock, broke a tooth and cut her face.  No one else jumped.  I did not have to jump.

Somehow J was nowhere nearly as badly hurt as I was relieved.  She got on G's bike, and we rode to the hospital in town trying to figure out how we were going to keep all this from our parents.  We didn't succeed. 

J got hurt and I didn't have to jump.  It was a trade I'd make over and over again, and it still makes me feel guilty and weak for not having had the courage to say go ahead and jump, I'll stay right here.  I hope I'd do it differently now, and I hope we'd check to see how deep the water is before any of us jumped. {end story}

Have you ever given in to peer presssure or jumped even when you knew you shouldn't? 


Have a Comment? Share It. All opinions but NO judgments allowed.