I remember racing to the swings as soon as my feet hit the gray asphalt. Of course all of the “good swings” were taken by the time I reached them, so I had to use the ones that were lower to the ground. I had been sitting by a girl with the name Mikayla. I guess we were kind of friends at the time, but at the same time I always felt in competition with her. That assumption was reached when she challenged me, “I bet I can go higher than you and jump out of the swing.” “Bet not,” I had said. Obviously the little show off had to go before me and she landed her jump. Eventually, It was my turn and I was determined to beat my little friend. My heart was racing and when my swing felt like it was in the middle of the sky I took my leap and started soaring through the air. Until gravity took its toll, of course. My body slapped against the pavement like a fly getting smacked against a window with a fly swatter. Pain shot through my body, but I was definitely not going to make a huge scene on the playground, so I brushed off my elbows and knees and tried to hold in the tears that were already starting to pour out. I was more embarrassed than anything because I knew I had made a very dumb