“You’re going to regret it”

“Oh God,” I thought to myself. The boat stopped and swayed in the waves produced by the surrounding ships. We came to a shallow part of the Caribbean Sea, where the water was a clear, turquoise blue like stained glass windows alongside benches in an old church. The sun beat down on the boat’s metal railings, which made them hot like pavement on a summer day. The smell of the ocean was palpable as salty air filled my nose. It was a pleasant, calming smell. Then I remembered why we were there; a nervous tingle rang through my stomach.

I noticed that boats were gathered everywhere, all positioned in an immense circle. Our instructor ordered us to jump off the boat, everyone obeyed. I cautiously slid on my worn out pink and black water shoes, still feeling small grains of sand on the soles from our last trip to Maine. Now, on our first adventure in the Cayman Islands, I longed to be back there where I knew I was safe. Instantly, I remembered back when my mother, brother and I were driving back from the luggage store, how she had announced that we must be adventurous on this trip. I hadn’t given her speech much thought until we were there—in the middle of the ocean— vulnerable to danger. The shoes were pinching my feet like a parent squeezes a child's hand in a crowded store, only making me more uncomfortable. My body was limp. I began to shiver, despite the extreme heat. I waited, where are these animals? Thinking it through, I decided it wouldn't be so bad if they didn't show up. On the bright side, I might get to live another day.

I reluctantly followed his directions and hopped off the boat. I stood up in the water unsteadily. The water was soothing and warm, but my knees still quivered from fright. I watched the instructor throw a small item into the water. He was a muscular man, with broad shoulders like the Green Giant. His dark skin was gleaming with sweat from the bright mid-summer sun. I watched; all at once clouds of grey swam after the small item. I stood there in awe while others gaped at the scene. Never had I been more frightened, my eyes shut tight as I tried to block out the sight. I didn’t want to be there to die. Who would want to be there? Enmity toward my mother shot through my bones for signing me up for this. I was going to get stung and die. I didn’t want to be killed, I needed to make it to fourth grade.

My heart beat faster every minute. I jumped up and down, trying to get my feet out of the water before the stingrays would attack their prey: me. Realizing this method wouldn’t work, I desperately searched my head for another way out of my death sentence. I maneuvered on my tippy-toes around their intimidating stingers, and lunged onto my dad’s back for safety. I curled my feet around his hips so they wouldn’t touch the water. How was no one else terrified like I was? People were holding these monsters like they were innocent puppies at a shelter. Even my mother, to my surprise, now let one lay upon her palms. My brother and father bent down simultaneously to pet a giant one, causing me to almost slip off his back. The instructor laughed, mocking my horror. He walked toward me slowly like his ankles were in chains. To my worst nightmare, in his hands he held out a stingray twice the length of my arm. I began to panic all over again.

“Come hold her,” he offered in his thick Jamaican accent. I assumed he was joking. Had he seen me trembling in fear? I shook my head abruptly signalling an affirmative no. “C’mon you're going to regret it if you don't.” His words irked me because I knew he was right. This man was getting on my nerves, I thought to myself. Then, like a pirate being forced off the plank, I slowly climbed down my dad’s back. Careful to avoid other stingrays, I shuffled closer toward the odd man. He extended his arms towards me; my sweaty palms replaced his under the stingray’s stomach. It was smooth and slick, soft and squishy. It felt as if my hands were on a tempurpedic pillow. I examined it, an actual stingray from the ocean was laying on top of my hands. To my surprise, I wasn’t being stung. I was alive! I began to admire the stingray for its uniqueness. It was a magnificent, majestic sea creature. But however beautiful the creature was, I was still petrified of it. My mother told me I looked as if I had tasted something sour. She sprang for her underwater camera to capture the moment. She told me to smile for the picture and for one second, I did. Right after the picture I quickly dropped the stingray, and proudly climbed aboard the boat. I watched the stingray fly away underwater, returning on its journey. It was graceful, the way it operated both of its wings. When it swam, each side rolled like fans in a crowd doing the wave. I’d never seen anything like it in my life.