Robi stepped onto a
rock and said something to me. I routed him on through gritted
teeth. He smiled at me, faced the water, bent his legs and dove
headfirst into the grey river. I half admired and half resented his
bravery. It meant I would have to do the same or more or else look
like a wimp.
 
He didn’t surface.
I waited, trying to keep cool. He didn’t come up. Fifteen seconds
passed. Nothing. Thirty. I was starting to worry now. I looked up
at Matt. I looked back at the water. No bubbles. Forty five
seconds.
 
Should I jump
in? Should I try to see if he’s okay? No, not ready to get in that
water yet.
I waited.
 
Finally, he came
up, fifteen feet from where he had been.
 
“Come on!” I
imagined he said in Romanian. He waved me. It was my turn. Crap.
 
Behind me, up the
bank, four kids rode up on their bikes. They were dressed like
American kids, albeit poor ones, in dirty baseball caps and
basketball jerseys. They yelled to Robi, who said something back.
 
I hope they’re leaving? No? Great!
Now I have an audience.
 
“I HATE WATER!”
I said to Matt. “I DON’T want to do this!” He just smiled at me
and waited.
 
I looked at the
grey water. I looked at Robi. I had to jump. I wasn’t ready for a
swan dive. I didn’t care if I looked like a wimp. It was going to
be a pencil dive or nothing. I waited.
 
The kids behind me
said something, laughed. I ignored them. I was trying to steel my
nerves. I was nervous. My blood was pumping and my legs were
shaking a little. I squealed and moaned. Robi just watched,
waiting. I couldn’t get my head to slow down.
 
What do I do?!
But there was no turning back.
 
“3…” I
whispered to myself. “2… 1.” I jumped.