Page 8 of Kickoff

“Who’s ready for some cliff jumping?” Sheldon asked as soon as we were all up.

We hadn’t slept for more than just a few hours, too engrossed in the retelling of stories of the previous school year, sipping on beer, and roasting sausages over the bonfire.

“Not me. I can’t swim,” Seth said. “I need my feet to touch the ground at all times.”

“You’re going to play ball in college next year and you can’t swim?” Sheldon asked. “Are you joking?”

“Nah. I’m not a fan of water. I’ll thrive next year. I’m more worried about you guys. How will this team survive if I’m not there to protect you on the field? You’ll see, you’ll miss me.”

“Miss who?” Craig asked, scratching his temple. With his disheveled brown hair—the same shade as mine—and stained T-shirt, he looked nothing like the usually well-put-together guy he was.

“Nothing.” Sheldon stripped off his sweatpants before sliding boardshorts up his legs.

Jackson covered his eyes with a hand. “Jesus, Sheld, hide your junk. It’s too early in the morning to be exposed to your balls.”

“You’re just jealous, Pettyfer. You wish you had balls of steel like me instead of a pussy.”

“Says a man who lacks self-confidence. I’m not gonna respond to this.”

Sheldon tied the drawstrings of his shorts. “Whatever. As I was saying, I’m going cliff jumping. Who’s in?”

“It could be fun,” Craig said. “I need caffeine first, though. I have no clue how to reboot my brain this morning. Mase, that camping mat you brought is the worst. I would have slept better on a bed of nails.

I sighed. “Stop being a brat. Next time, bring your own camping gear if you’re not happy.” I turned to Sheldon. “Count me in. As long as I’m fed first.”

Chase buttered a few slices of bread and placed them on the mesh grate along with last night’s potato leftovers over the dying campfire. “Breakfast will be served in a minute, guys.”

“That’s breakfast?” Rusty asked.

“Yep. Since none of you fuckers moved a finger to do anything, that’s what we’ll have. We’ll keep the eggs and bacon for tomorrow morning. I’m too hungover to prep anything right now. There’s orange juice in the red cooler, and my mom sent a portable coffeemaker that is somewhere in my truck, so help yourselves. If you can figure out how to make it work.”

An hour later, we were all overlooking the lake from the cliff. Half a dozen people were sunbathing on the other shore, girls floating on tubes and guys throwing a ball around. The sun was shining bright, a perfect beginning to our summer vacation. Starting Monday, we would have different schedules, all of us having secured summer jobs, so this weekend was our one chance to hang out together before school and practice resumed.

“You sure it’s safe?” Seth asked. “It’s kind of high.”

Sheldon neared the edge. “I’ve jumped from much higher than this last summer.” He peeled his shirt over his head and kicked off his shoes. “I’m going first. Watch and learn, pussies.”

Before we had time to register his next movement, he walked back to the tree line to gain momentum and ran, screaming “Yahoo” at the top of his lungs when he propelled himself airborne. Seconds later, a loud splash echoed from below, and someone on the opposite shore wolf whistled.

Jackson walked closer to the edge. “He made it.”

Sheldon hollered something, but we couldn’t hear him from up here.

Jackson turned to face us. “You guys all gonna jump?”

“Yep,” I replied at the same time the guys said, “Yes.”

“Are you sure it’s deep enough? There are boulders. I can see them.”

“You gotta jump straight ahead, and you’ll be fine. People have been cliff diving here for decades. My old man used to camp here when he was our age. Don’t ruin the fun, Pettyfer. Anyway, watch me execute a perfect front dive pike.” Rusty extended his arms over his head in some sort of stretching exercise. “I should have been recruited by the Olympics diving team. I’m that good.”

“Only when you’re wasted,” Craig said.

“You wish.” Rusty folded his body in two, his fingers grazing his toes. “The trick is to warm up properly. And also, flexibility. That’s what makes me popular with girls.” He rotated his upper body to the left and then to the right. “See? Flexibility.”

“Like that?” Seth said, imitating him, but also walking on his tiptoes like a ballerina. “Sure, you look gracious enough, Rust. It’s not the Olympics team that will recruit you, but a ballet company.” He continued to do one ballet position after the other.

“Man, are you sure football is your sport?” Craig asked. “You’re too good at this to just be a coincidence.”