Bridge

I came home with a blog. And my mom, she said, "What's that?"

And I told her it was a blog.

And she said, "Why do you want to go and have one of those for?"

And I told her it was cool, that all my friends, they had blogs, too. Everyone my age had a blog.

And she said that thing—you know what I mean. She said that thing moms are supposed to say. She said, "Well, if everyone your age jumped off a..."

I don't even know if I can finish it. It's so...you know. It's just so...

Okay, so she said, "Well, if everyone your age jumped off a bridge, would you?"

And I said maybe. Kind of to maybe freak her out.

And she, then, got sort of quiet. She looked at me, and then at my stepdad.

"Really?" she asked.

And I said maybe again.

And she sort of nodded, and said, "Huh," real quiet-like.

Then my stepdad told me to go to my room. I went to my room.

At school the next day, I found a printout in my bookbag. It said teen suicide by bridge jumping was up. On the page, there was a little red "FYI!" in my mom's handwriting. And a smiley face.

And it was true. Next thing you knew, all the kids in my age group were throwing themselves off of bridges, and my mom, she was finding citations, and leaving them taped to my door.

At breakfast should would look at me (all disgusted) and say, "All the other kids are jumping off of bridges. Why the hell won't you?"

But, I wouldn't do it then, and I won't do it now, and I'll never do it. You hear me, Mom? I won't do it! Stop calling me.

I completely forgot about the blog.