Dude Don't Jump That!

 Dude don’t jump that! By Gabe Nasrallah

“Mike your crazy bro! Don’t jump over the fire dude, there’s no way your gonna make it!” Bret yelled at Mike while laughing.

               “Shut up Bret!” Mike yelled back from the other side of the massive fire, “I can make that jump easy buddy!” Mike, Bret, and Samuel were all on the rocky beach of a Georgia lake, that was far below full. The low waters uncovered several old logs that had been a menace to many an unwatchful boater. The three friends had hoisted a few of them up and brought them to their favorite summer spot on the edge of the water. With Bret’s dad’s lighter fluid and a few matches, they had made the biggest fire any of them had ever seen, with flames almost touching the moon. Not after long however, Mike was at the far end of the fire, sizing it up.

               “He always does this...” Samuel looked at Bret and smiled, “Why does he always do this?” Mike had a reputation for jumping the occasional bonfire. You see back in high school he played track and field for the varsity team and his best event was the long jump. One semester, in 10^th grade, he was challenged by an 8^th grade nobody to a long jump a competition after school. Mike was always cocky about long jump, so he laughed and agreed to the kid’s challenge. The whole varsity track team and 8^th grade class showed up. That day the 8^th grader gained the respect of not only the varsity team, but the whole school. For the rest of the semester, he was known as “the kid who out jumped a guy on the varsity team”. He was a middle school legend. Mike, however, was laughed at by his team and never gained back their respect for his long jump skills. He quit track that year. The next year he transferred schools.  But now, in his freshman year of college, he always looked for an opportunity to prove to himself that he could’ve beat that middle schooler.

“Sam, film this bro.” Mike made a quick run up to get an idea of the size jump he was about to perform. Samuel pulled out his phone and pressed record.

               “If your gonna jump it, just do it already!” Bret exclaimed, annoying with the wait.

               “Okay! I’m going this time, I promise.” Mike yelled back. He started his run towards the fire. Mike was running full speed towards the blazing fire like he’d done towards the sand pit in the long jump. The fire was getting closer and closer, and he was getting ready to leap. Now, the fire was only a few feet ahead of him. This was it. He was at the place in his run where he had to just close his eyes and let his legs carry him over the hot bonfire. He said a quick prayer and committed, only 2 feet away from the flames. Then he made the leap.

               Mike’s knees bent and he put every ounce of strength in his body into pushing them back up, launching him into the air. He could feel the heat of the blaze on his legs. As he got higher over the flames, the heat got more and more intense. As he flew over the center of the fire, time seemed to slow down. His feet, frolicking over the fire, went into slow motion. His mind then took him back to that fateful day in his sophomore year.

               There he was, back on the school track field in his team uniform. The Flaming Tomatoes had won state two times in the past 5 years so there was a lot expected from it’s teammates. A younger, skinnier Mike was standing in the middle of the field next to a short kid with glasses. A crowd swarmed around them as the kid stretched, getting ready to give the long jump his all. Mike, however, with his head high, was acting as cocky as ever. He wasn’t losing to some random middle schooler who didn’t even play track. The kid was a foot shorter than mike and had legs like a chicken. Mike looked at the kid.

               “You’re not gonna win little kid! You probably still have mommy tuck you in bed!” Mike whined in the kids face. The kid only continued his stretches and focused on his task ahead.

               “Guys I don’t think I can do this!” Mike sneered, doing a fake cry. He walked to the starting line and waited for one of his track buddies to say go.

               “Go!” Mike was off, running at full speed towards the sand pit. This was routine, they practiced the long jump almost every day. Mike got to the hash mark, planted his feet, and launched, landing hard into the coarse sand. It was a good jump, and he knew it. Mike got up and looked around at his team. James Dickman, a senior committed to UGA, gave him a look of approval, and clapped his hands. There were murmurs in the 8^th grade crowd. Mike laughed.

               “C’mom, beat that buddy!” he looked at the kid who was lining up at the start line. Mike got back to his group of teammates, and James Dickman yelled go. The 8^th grader was off, sprinting as fast as his legs would take him towards the worn-down hash mark. As he got to it, he planted his feet about a foot before the mark and launched off at an almost unearthly speed. It seemed like he was air born for minutes as he gracefully floated over the mark in the sand where Mike had landed. When the kid finally touched ground, it was almost a foot from Mike’s puny little mark. The whole field was baffled. An applause broke the silence, which led to another, and before Mike knew it, they were all yelling and dancing around the small middle school kid. Mike didn’t say “good job” or “great jump” he just walked away.

               Mikes feet were touching some of the flames now as he continued his flight over the bonfire. The heat was almost unbearable. Suddenly, mid-jump, a detail from the day-he-was-out-jumped, suddenly came back to him. Mike remembered seeing a small slice in the track about a foot before the hash mark. In the moment it meant nothing, but now looking back, it had almost looked like someone had cut the track up. Then he remembered how the kid had jumped a foot early, before the hash mark. The kid had put something under the track, probably springs or something! The kid cheated! Mike was the real winner! A smile grew into the seams of Mike’s mouth as he floated over the blazing fire.

               Mike’s airtime suddenly all went back into real speed. Mike had sent the jump over the fire, but he hadn’t quite gotten as high as he should’ve. So, when he came down from the arc of his leap, he, Samuel, and Bret all knew Mike had jumped too short. He landed butt-first on the red-hot coals that were the edge of the fire. A sharp flair of pain went through his body. Before he knew it, Mike was in the cool lake, drenched from head to toe. His body throbbed with pain from the unfortunate landing, but his mind wasn’t on his burns, it was on the kid who cheated in the long jump.

               “Mike are you good dude?” Samuel asked while holding mikes arm.

               “Talk to us man!” Bret exclaimed, walking out into the lake where Mike was at. Mike looked up. He opened his mouth to tell them about the realization he had had midair. He was going to explain how the 8^th grader had cheated and that he had really won, but no words came out of his mouth. He thought back to that fateful day. Suddenly, it hit him. You see, that’s the thing about maturing, you start to see events that happened in the past from a different perspective. Well, that’s exactly what happened to Mike, right there on that beach, with a burned back and two worried friends. Mike realized what a jerk he’d been to the kid who was years younger than him. Yes, the kid had probably cheated, but did Mike really deserve to win?