I grimaced again as I held my arm and sat still in the emergency room chair. My legs, which hung freely off the front, did not swing back and forth, as they usually did. I think they were like a dog’s tail, wagging back and forth when he was happy and hanging limp when he was not. I was definitely not smiling today. I tried to be a man, tried to carry my battle scar like Evel Knievel, but the tears came anyway.
My mom sat next to me while we waited to be called, still in her Tidy Maid uniform. She had not been happy when she got the call from Johnny’s mom; I could see it in her face as she picked me up from his house. When she saw my arm and the tears on my face, that look quickly changed to the one we all got when we found out Tommy had become the White Ranger.
“How did this happen?”
I had gulped as I confessed to her in a low, sobbing voice. “We were jumping off the roof of Johnny’s house.”
“Ricky!” She had not slapped me though, like she usually would’ve when I messed up big time. I think she felt like I already got my punishment. At least I thought I did. Instead she took hold of my good arm and carted me off to the hospital.
I looked at her now. All the anger on her face was gone as she looked back at me and gave a sort of half smile. That made me feel at least a little better. “So when did you become such a daredevil?”
It was a fair question, because Graciela, my older sister, had always been the one to jump off sheds and eat worms and pet the fuzzy cactus at the store. I had always been the one to slide down the slide instead of climbing up it. My mom had told me on countless occasions that she was glad she didn’t have two diablitos. She had told me that worrying about Graciela was enough to give her gray hairs. For the first nine years of my life, being that way had never been hard for me. I had always been content to sit back when with my friends and let people like Johnny be the shock show.
I can remember the exact day when that all changed though. It was last June, on the first warm, sunny day in about a week, and we were all sick of staying inside and playing Super Nintendo. On that Saturday, the other neighborhood kids and I convinced our parents that it was the perfect day to go to the public pool. I think they were happy to get us out in the sun, and each gave us three dollars.
We raced off down the streets on our bikes and in our swimming trunks, our towels blowing out behind us like scarves of motorcyclists. We were eager for the adventures to come, and as we rode, Johnny turned back and yelled out, “This year, I’m passing the swimming test, and then I’m going to go off the diving board and show you the biggest cannonball you’ve ever seen.” That caused several other voices to give out challenges of their own. I, however, remained quiet, content to simply to watch who would actually come out on top.
We arrived at the pool and the scent of sweat, chlorine, and suntan lotion mixed together and hit our noses. We sucked it in with deep, smiling breaths as we paid our fare. Johnny continued vocalizing his upcoming heroics. He seemed serious about them too, because as soon as we dropped our towels, he marched directly over to the swim test lane and got the attention of the lifeguard.
I remember watching as one by one, the other five boys followed, each approaching the lifeguard and jumping in to do a sloppy front crawl. I found myself alone very quickly, watching all the boys’ heads whip back and forth as their bodies moved through the water. Johnny came back in drips and goose bumps and asked me if I was in on it too. I suddenly felt like I looked like a big wuss. I mumbled out an, “Of course,” thinking to myself that it would go no farther than that. I would’ve never thought of where I’d end up before the end of the day.
I passed, just like Johnny and Freddie and Tyler, and at least had one up on Greg and Danny and Peter, who all got, “Why don’t you practice and come back a little later,” from the lifeguard. It was really a minor victory, but the group at the moment made it seem so much more, enough to get me uncomfortable. I realized that I was with the elite today. They would expect something out of me, and they would all watch as I did it. I think if I had really thought about it, I would have failed on purpose. “Too late now,” I told myself, “You’re going to have to make something out of it.”
Tyler and Freddie already were. They had run over to the deep end, to opposite diving boards, and were eyeing each other with competitive glances. We all watched as they ran and jumped and grabbed their legs with the unity of synchronized swimmers. We all knew what this was about. As they came back, they asked us who had won out.
“I think both of your splashes were girl splashes,” Johnny said.
“Whatever, Johnny,” Freddie said. “You’re just saying that. You’re still mad about that kickball game.”
“Am not.”
“You think you can do better?”
“Sure I can. I’m going off the high dive.”
We all looked at Johnny in silence, trying to decide if he was serious or if he was just being Johnny. We had all talked about doing the high dive one day, but none of us had actually seriously considered it. The high dive was for the twelve year olds, the ones who were old and experienced—the ones who had girlfriends and 12-speeds and were allowed to go to the arcade by themselves. Johnny was serious this time, though. I knew him well enough to know he was.
Freddie would not be convinced so easily. “Oh yeah, well let’s see.”
“Fine.”
We all looked on as Johnny approached the high dive, which stood like the Tower of Terror. Greg crossed himself silently. I watched with widened eyes. Freddie shook his head and refused to believe he would go through with it. Johnny’s mind was made up though. He ascended the rungs of the ladder like he was a trapeze artist and stood at the top. We all looked back at him without blinking. He looked over at Freddie, smirked, and flipped us all the double bird before jumping off, flailing his limbs in the air, and hitting the water with a smack and a splash.
We waited still and silent, like we were in church, or at a funeral, because all of us stood, wondering if he was dead. I looked at the lifeguard, a dark teen who seemed content to mutter out orders through her bullhorn to wrestling kids in the shallow end. She did not care to look over at the bubbling remains of Johnny’s splash. “Cruel, heartless girl,” I thought, but then Johnny’s head popped back out of the water. He shook the locks of his bowl cut dry like a dog, turned to us, and yelled, “That was awesome!”
Some of the boys said the splash was bigger than Freddie’s. Freddie said the jump was “not so cool after all”. I knew he wouldn’t say that to Johnny’s face, though, because he knew, as well as all of us, that Johnny had done the unspeakable. He swam over to and under the dividers back to where we were standing. I could tell, even as he swam, that his arms were the color of cherry Kool-Aid. I winced for his sake while he said, “Beat that, buttheads.”
And as simple as that, all eyes turned on me. They watched me and I started to realize something that made me shake inside. “Come on, Ricky,” Jason challenged, placing a cold, wet, arm around my shoulder. I shivered at the touch. “Show Johnny up.”
“Yeah, you know how to dive,” Danny said. “Do it off the high dive.” The others backed him up and the idea grew into more of a demand, an order. I slowly backed away, trying to keep a cool look while hiding the fear on my face. “We’ve seen you dive off the side. Do it off the high dive.”
I shook my head again, my desire to live screaming out to me.
"He won’t do it,” Freddie said. “He’s wussin’ out.”
“Come on, Ricky,” Johnny chanted. “Prove him wrong.” I couldn’t tell which side he was on.
“Ricardo,” Jason said, again placing his shoulder around me. “This is the chance of a lifetime, my friend. Don’t pass it up.”
“Yeah, don’t be a wuss,” I heard another voice call out.
I knew all too well that none of them would have done it. Not even the twelve year olds did it. Telling them that wouldn’t have worked though; it would have only caused me more trouble. I had tried it before and had gotten even more made fun of because of it. Instead, I found myself walking with shaky legs over to the high dive and crawling up to my death. I looked over at the lifeguard as my head passed the level of her head. She was watching the rough-housers in the shallow end again. I would be floating dead in the water, and she wouldn’t even notice to fish out my body. I got to the top and slowly stepped out toward the edge of the bending board below me. My stomach turned. It reminded me of the time my dad had taken me out to walk on the frozen lake and the ice had cracked. I had been too scared to scream as my dad took my hand and we rushed away from the spot back to shore. My dad wasn’t here to save me now. The lifeguard might as well not have been here either. It was just my friends—half of which couldn’t do a good front crawl, let alone save me, and none of which seemed to care enough about my life anyway.
“Just do it!” Freddie brought his outstretched arms together and above him in the form of a dive.
“He’s gonna wuss out,” another voice said.
I looked down at the pool, which seemed hundreds of feet below me. Johnny had survived it, but he had gone feet first. To go head first was certain death. I pulled my arms slowly above me, but simply stood there. Everything in my mind screamed out “Don’t do it!” This was not right. This was not natural. The boys chanted me on, and I knew what would happen if I didn’t do it now, but I would definitely be a goner if I did do it. It was better to live and listen to their Boo’s. It would only last as long as it would take to dry off and leave. I could find new friends. Slowly, I backed away from the edge and down the rungs.
On the way down, I caught the lifeguard staring at me. She had a slight smile on her face, something I had not expected. I had thought that if she would’ve taken notice of me at all, she would have been on my side, that she would have defended me, patted me on the back, and congratulated me on my decision to live. Instead, she seemed to be an introduction of what I was about to get. I continued to stare at her in shame. “Is something wrong?” she asked, still smiling.
I paused. “I—” Suddenly, flashes of my future appeared in my head, like I was looking into a crystal ball. My friends’ heightened taunts, which now combined with those of this teenager, would only get louder as I walked back to them, dried off, and left them behind forever. I would find no other neighborhood kids to spend the rest of summer with. I would end up with Graciela, and the taunting would only increase from there. School would start, and I would be lumped with one of those boys—the type that play Barbies and Pretty Pretty Princess and chase the girls at recess and try to kiss them. My future would be gone.
I looked up above me. My future would be gone either way, but a heroic death suddenly seemed better than the alternative. I looked back over at the lifeguard and searched for an answer, a good excuse for coming back down. She waited for my response. I felt ashamed and tried to come up with something quick. “I—I forgot to take off my watch. Can you hold it for me?”
It was a sad excuse, especially because the watch was waterproof, but she simply laughed, reached over, and grabbed a hold of it. My decision was finalized. I was facing my final moments. But at least the taunting was falling silent. I reached the top, and before I could change my mind again, I used the metal rail bars to throw myself forward. I reached the end and felt the board propel me into the sky. As I flew, I pulled my head down and shoved my arms in front of me, and, for a split second, I watched the water rushing up before me. Then it disappeared, and after the longest moment of my life, I felt my back hit a surface harder than the sidewalk. All the air was squeezed out of me. My lungs forced out a squeal that I hoped only I heard. The cold water surrounded me and I consigned myself to my end.
I was later amazed, though, what my body did then, even though it felt like I had been hit by a car. My mind and nerves thought I was done, but my body flailed to the surface, over to the side, and back onto the actual cement. I lay there holding my chest on the warm solid ground, still unable to breathe. The lifeguard came down just as I began to cough. The boys rushed over, ignoring the yells of the other lifeguards not to run, and gathered around me.
“Are you okay?” I heard the female voice ask.
For the first time in my life, I really thought about my answer to that question. Then, I turned up to her. Though there were tears in my eyes, a smile formed on my face. I was okay, though I thought I would have been the last one in the world to believe it. My back was stinging, my lungs were shaken up, but I was really okay. I slowly pulled myself up and looked my friends in the eye. Then I turned to the lifeguard and accepted my watch, a trophy for my daring deed.
“Did it hurt?” Freddie asked.
“Yeah, did it hurt?” Jason repeated. Their voices sounded hopeful, like I had been their opponent in Streetfighter.
I turned to them, hiding my back, which I was sure matched the color of Johnny’s arms. “It was nothing, buttheads.”
For some reason, I believed myself, even as I continued coughing for the next few hours afterwards. One thing was for sure. I had not been conquered. Rather, I was inspired, especially when Johnny gave me his lead position in the bike posse, the first choice of popsicles back at his house, and the spot of captain when we played kickball the next day.
I had dived off the high dive. Or at least tried to dive. I came back another day and failed again. I failed a third time. But each time I came up coughing, I thought to myself how nobody called me a wuss anymore and how good it felt to pick my own kickball team. By the fourth time I tried the high dive that summer, I succeeded, and from that point on, I was dubbed the daredevil king.
That was how it all happened, but I wasn’t going to tell my mom that. She wouldn’t have understood. So I kept it in my head and shrugged. “I dunno when.”
“Well, I hope this teaches you a lesson,” she said.
I might have thought it would’ve, but the memory of the glory of that high dive was too good. My arm throbbed with pain, but I couldn’t help but smile. I wiped the tears from my eyes and smiled at the respect I still had of my friends, especially Johnny. I smiled at the fear I had seen in their eyes during my dozens of successful stunts before this one. Many of them had hurt, especially that first one that hot, sunny June day last year, but the pain had gone away and the glory had lingered. This was just another part of the job, and I wasn’t going to let it stop me. I smiled at the thought that in another few months, I would be out there again, facing death.
I hid my smile from my mom, though, because, once again, she wouldn’t have understood.
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