It was a three-meter board. Nearly ten feet off the water. To the boy it seemed like a mile.
            “Dare you!” His friends would challenge him.
            “You chicken?” Others would taunt.
           It was a public pool packed with kids all summer long. It was a great place and run around and goof off. And swim of course. They did a lot of swimming.
            During that summer, jumping off the board became a big deal for him and his friends.
            “Come on!” They’d jeer.
            “You a scaredy cat?” They’d tease.
            Geez.
            Toward the end of summer, all of his friends had jumped except for him. He finally built up his courage.
            “Okay,” he told his buddies. “I’ll do it.”
            “Yea!” They yelled and slapped him on his skinny shoulders. “Go for it!”
With trembling legs, he climbed the ladder carefully step by step. At the top, he grabbed the handrails and caught his breath trying not to look at the far horizon where the tall trees seemed like matchsticks.
            “Come on!” His friends yelled.
            They seemed so tiny down below. Not hardly real.
            Okay, he said to himself. You can do this.
            He inched his way along the board, step by step by step, all the way to the end. His heart was pounding as he stood looking over the edge. The water was glistening blue in the sun. He could see black lines painted on the bottom of the pool. His heart beat faster. The crowd below him melted into a blur. For one horrendous moment, he thought he might get sick to his stomach. No! Not in front of everyone! That’s not going to happen!
            He curled his toes over the end of the board and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out. When he opened his eyes, all the noise from down below had suddenly gone silent in his brain. There was no turning back now. Let’s do it!
            He stepped off the board into space. Down, down, down, he plummeted. He hit the water hard. SPLASH! He didn’t remember anything after that. Not until later, anyway, when he found himself sitting on the side of the pool. His friends were slapping him on the back.
            “Way to go!” They congratulated him.
            “You did it!”
            “It was awesome!”
            “You should go again!”
            Accolades galore rang in his still terrified ears as he tried to calm his beating heart. As he tried to ignore his friends and their excitement at what he’d accomplished. As he tried frantically to think up every possible excuse and get up and walk away. To leave the pool and never come back. Never to climb that high dive and, for sure, never to jump again.

Jim Bates lives in a small town in Minnesota. He loves to write! His stories and poems have appeared in nearly 500 online and print publications. He is a frequent contributor to Flora Fiction.