I turn around and see the police car. A wave of panic washes over me.

Middle school went by like a flash, and suddenly I am sitting in a circle with my friends at our local country club. It is the last day of summer break before high school starts and we are all dreading the first day. Tomorrow marks the first day of a new school, without my close friends beside me. We are all going around in the circle saying how horrible high school will be. My turn comes, and just as I am about to say something, I feel someone jump on my back. It is my best friend’s sister and her friends, who are two years older than us. We tell them about our high school misery circle and they instantly light up. They bring up the idea of going bridge jumping at a nearby park.

“It’s fun and safe. Everybody does it,” they try to persuade us after my friends and I exchange doubtful looks.
Two of my friends stand up and ask us if we want to play tennis instead. Without waiting for our reply, they walk away. I look over at my friend, Sarah. She tells us that she has to leave and walks towards the pool area. I can tell that something about this idea made them nervous. That leaves me and two others. I know jumping off a bridge is probably the worst thing to do at the moment, but I have nothing better to do. Doing anything that could distract me from thinking about school was fine by me. My other two friends agree to go as well.
It is about an eight minute walk, and as soon as we get to the park, I spot a fairly small wooden bridge. I’ve never really done anything crazy like jumping off a bridge and I wonder if I should turn around and head back. But the juniors instantly remove their towels and sprint onto the bridge. Five seconds later, they are in the water. They come back for us, soaking wet, dragging us on to the burning hot wooden bridge. I have been scared of heights for probably my whole life, and as I am looking down at the dark green water, I am trembling. I instantly regret ever agreeing to this idea, and from the looks on my friends’ faces, I can tell they do too. My heart is beating faster than a horse on a racetrack, but next thing I know, I grab my friends by their hands and we soar off the bridge. The world is quiet for a moment. And then I hear the crashing sound of us as we make contact with the water. I come up for air to see my friends laughing. I immediately join in. We jump eight more times.

After our final jump, my friends and I climb out of the water and join the juniors on the bridge. They are drying off with their pink towels. I grab my bright yellow towel and just as we are getting ready to head back, I see a police car. My heart stops. We are all terrified, because we didn’t think we did anything wrong. A young looking police officer hops out of his car. He explains to us that bridge jumping is strictly not allowed. I do not hear the rest of it. I zone out, watching the juniors talking to him, but not hearing a single word. My heart is beating so fast that it feels like it will burst out of my chest. I cover my head with my towel and close my eyes. Just as I open them, the officer gets back into his car and drives away.

“It’s okay,” is all they say when I ask what happened.

We all walk back to the pool in silence. I do not recall what happened next, but soon enough, we are all laughing hysterically.

As bad as what we did was, it distracted me from the dreadful thought of high school, and all in all, it was pretty much the highlight of my summer break. But I did learn something that day: I probably won’t go bridge jumping again any time soon.