I’ve always thought the typical parental peer pressure probe about ‘jumping from bridges if your friends did’ was silly. Of course, I’d jump.

It’s obviously safe enough to do so.

They even tested it out for me first.

I would honestly be honored to even be considered to jump off a bridge.

Might even make a little speech.

I’d thank the academy and also my mother for vacuuming so that I could sneak out the creaky screen door to be here today.

Thanks to my dog, for not barking.

And thank you to –

Alright.

I’m starting to see a little of why I’m not invited places now.

And despite sneaking out to be somewhere I’m not invited, which is everywhere these days, I find myself hovering habitually at the sidelines once again.

The popular kids had crowded around my desk in study hall earlier, eagerly discussing jumping off the Main Street Bridge tonight.

As if I weren’t _right_ there, doodling on my homework amidst the madness.

Not even a single compliment on my overalls, new glasses, or my hyper realistic cat drawings.

Nothing.

It’s like I’m a ghost who never really lived, one with infinite unfinished business.

Sometimes it’s fun to go unnoticed.

I easily obtain most of the coveted gossip, either by overhearing or observing the events myself.

But recently, I’ve found that living vicariously isn’t as satisfying when you’re simply surviving.

I’ve convinced myself for so long that knowing can be equated to experience, but the overwhelming fear of missing out has consumed me to the point that I’m compelled to finally experience something for myself.

So, was their banter an invitation? No.

But it’s as close as I’m going to get to one.

Besides, I’ve _got_ to see how Stacy manages to juggle Ben, Clay, and Samuel when they’re all together without any of them realizing they’re not her only boyfriend.

Girl has got game, I’ll give her that.

From the shadows where the road ends, I watch as someone lifts their hands from a truck bed in the middle of the bridge.

It’s Thad, the quarterback.

He has a red plastic cup in one large palm, and impatiently waits until all eyes are on him, as if they’re ever not.

His move silences the mob, about the size of a classroom of kids, to a dull murmur.

The night bugs become deafening in their songs by my ear.

“Alright,” he calls out, “if you’re jumping, stay in the middle. Don’t die.”

He lowers his arms.

His crowd of admirers cheer.

What a wordsmith.

He’s got a future in politics, I can just tell.

Loud country music blasts from the truck as people line up to have Thad’s lackey pour them beer from a keg they must’ve stolen.

I watch as Stacy saunters to the railing with Clay trailing behind her.

Samuel watches them curiously, not suspicious of her duplicity, but overtly checking out Clay, who is Samuel’s secret boyfriend as well.

Heart pounding, I’m closing the distance to the party before I can think better of it.

I’ve always wanted to be a part of something, anything. I’ll even take their scorn at this point.

I’m just waiting, begging for someone in the increasingly rowdy crowd to point me out and shame me for attending, but no one even bats an eye at my entrance, which almost makes it worse.

I’m here but somehow still missing out.

I almost head to grab a beer, forcing them to acknowledge me and forgo my fear, but then Stacy begins talking animatedly between her two boyfriends and my addiction demands I know why.

Clothes are shed to reveal bikinis on girls who begin dancing to songs with no discernible beat.

Their promiscuity develops in my periphery as I close in on my favorite show.

Stacy actually glances my way as I approach, a furrow in her brow, but then Samuel has his hand on her bicep and Clay is looking down at that point of connection like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve.

“Let’s all jump together,” Samuel suggests.

My heart leaps with hope that he’s including me, but then he grabs Clay and Stacy’s hands and leads them over the railing.

I nod to myself.

Exhale my impatience slowly through my nose.

Hands, that have never touched another’s, clench into fists at my sides.

_Fine_.

I don’t need them.

I can do this all on my own.

I don’t have to miss out because the world is insisting it be that way.

I don’t have to live in the terror of wasting time because it’s spent waiting on others to allow me to enjoy it.

Copying the way they climb over the edge, I pretend Clay is counting down for me as well.

At one, we all leap, then I’m in free fall.

The wind in my face is exhilarating.

I laugh aloud at the feeling of freedom.

Stacy whips her head in my direction midair.

Her face contorts in horror.

We hit the water with a hard splash, the weight of viscous liquid such a jarring sensation in comparison, that I instinctively swim her way in concern.

I vaguely register the men treading water above us, calling her name, as I find her unconscious form floating lifelessly below.

_I have to help her. _

Yes, that’s why I do it.

That’s why I submerge my spectral form within her body and swim us to the surface.

That’s why I accept affection and relief from her boyfriends who are none the wiser, before they carry me back to the party to dote on me.

That’s why I let them take me home and away from the bridge where Thad’s older brother had invited me as a joke years ago, only to idiotically push me off the edge above the rocks, unwittingly killing me.

I’d always been afraid of all that I’d missed out on when I died by his hand.

That’s why, now, I decide to live by mine.